Sinners

Set in 1932 in Clarksdale, Mississippi, Sinners takes place throughout one night in the middle of October. Sammie Moore (the feature film debut of Miles Caton) is at a crossroads in his life. He is torn between being the son of a preacher and the blues-driven nightlife where he gets to sing, play guitar, and feel alive. Sammie submerges himself in the blues seemingly having little desire to return to his family’s religious roots. Sammie’s twin cousins Smoke and Stack (both played by Michael B. Jordan) have just returned home after spending seven years in Chicago. With a mobster-like reputation, the twins intend to jumpstart a new jukejoint at an old sawmill previously owned by Klan members. However, they want the grand opening to be that very night, have several arrangements to be made, and have little time to get it all done. As dusk turns to night and the twins’ new club seems to be off to a successful grand opening, an unspeakable evil lurks on their doorstep waiting to be invited in. Writer and director Ryan Coogler (Black Panther, Creed) was highly inspired by the works of Robert Rodriguez, so it’s no surprise that Sinners feels like a blacker and more blues-driven version of From Dusk Til Dawn. Sinners is a supernatural action horror film, but it takes its time getting to the horror. The first half of the film is like a well-written gangster film mostly driven by dialogue while introducing a cast of characters that are mostly all worthwhile and entertaining in their ways. Smoke and Stack have two extremely different personalities with opposing fates in Sinners, which must have been incredible for Michael B. Jordan. Smoke is more serious and lethal like a soldier while Stack is more eccentric and playful in his demeanor. Smoke also wears blue while Stack wears red. The dual performances allow Jordan to dip his toes into being a hero and a villain, two different types of music, and the dark and the light. This is a vampire film, but it’s also a film about music. Music is the most important aspect of Sinners. The film states that the power of music can heal communities and attract evil. The initial battle between those within the club and the outside dwelling vampires starts as a mostly blacks versus whites standoff but evolves into something much more elaborate. Like all Ryan Coogler films, Sinners is extremely black-centric but the film also incorporates several different nationalities in a period when whites thought they were the only decent race. The grocery store owners are Chinese, a biracial girl follows Stack from the north back down to the south, and Remmick (Jack O’Connell), the lead vampire, is introduced being chased by Native Americans. The African aspects allow for a deeper appreciation for the film’s stellar score and put much-needed rejuvenation to the cinematic vampire. Sinners is also a clashing of music genres with the human characters strumming on the blues side of things while the vampires and outsiders lean into Irish folk music and jig dancing. There is this jaw-dropping sequence within the wooden walls of Club Juke when Sammie finally gets to show how talented he is as a musician. It showcases all types of music, classic and contemporary, that have essentially evolved from or been inspired by gutbucket blues (blues or jazz music featuring raw emotions and a gritty, soulful sound). Vampire folklore is toyed with in a way that is incredibly satisfying in Sinners. The concept of being invited in is something the film approaches extremely well. Music is utilized by both sides to either attempt to keep the living together and safe or to lure them outside to become part of a red-eyed, bloodthirsty pack of undead. There’s the typical lore you expect in a vampire film like trying to use garlic to fend them off and making wooden stakes to drive through their hearts. But in other vampire films if you kill the head vampire it can either cure those that have been changed or kill all of them. Sinners takes a different route stating that each vampire has to be killed regardless on if their leader is slain. Hoodoo also plays a major part in the film. Wunmi Mosaku (His House, Deadpool & Wolverine) portrays Annie. Annie has an emotional connection to Smoke, but she also practices hoodoo, which allows her to be the voice of reason when bodies start piling up. Sinners is one of the horniest films to come out of the first part of the year. Films have kind of shied away from showcasing nudity and sex with recent films. Everyone in Sinners is bursting with lust and when they’re not in the middle of copulating or performing cunnilingus or fellatio they’re talking about it in graphic detail. Sinners is a scary, hilarious, and gloriously horny bloodbath with one hell of a bluesy score. An instant, masterful, and exceptional horror classic that deserves to be seen on the biggest screen possible.

FULL SPOILER-FREE REVIEW @ https://www.firstshowing.net/2025/review-sinners-is-one-of-this-years-most-daring-ambitious-films/ "Sinners is living proof that major studios can still produce artistic, provocative, and emotionally resonant movies. With Ryan Coogler's confident and creatively daring direction, an unforgettable, award-worthy score, a strong ensemble cast, and a thematically rich exploration of racial oppression, cultural identity, and spirituality, this is undoubtedly one of the most impactful films of the year so far. An intense, memorable spectacle with a sharp social commentary - and one that demands to be seen on the biggest screen possible." Rating: A-

It’s always gratifying to see a filmmaker take a big step up in his or her career, and that’s precisely what writer-director Ryan Coogler has done in his latest offering, a project that reflects a significant jump in the depth, artistry and sophistication of his creative output. Coming on the heels of his successes in “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” (2022), “Creed” (2015) and “Fruitvale Station” (2013), Coogler has hit a home run with this period piece smart horror story about identical twin brothers (both played by Michael B. Jordan) who return to their Mississippi home in 1932 after years of working for Al Capone in Chicago, where they made huge money that they now plan to use to open their own juke joint in a converted sawmill. It’s an opportunity where they hope to make even bigger bucks while helping to promote their talented cousin, Sammie (Miles Caton), a blues musician who’s a killer guitarist and vocalist. But, as this ambitious trio launches this effort, they’re confronted with a variety of challenges, including ghosts from their past, the perils of deeply ingrained social prejudice, the dual-edged sword posed by creative and financial success, and, most menacingly, mystical forces that may be more than they’re capable of handling. These narrative components combine to tell a captivating tale about a troubled time in the country’s history, one made all the more ominous with the appearance of supernatural powers that simultaneously offer both potential promise and the prospects of tremendous evil taking root. In bringing this picture to life, the filmmaker has served up an entertaining and engaging offering, one replete with fine performances, superb production values, sharp-edged, perfectly timed comic relief, truly inventive, deftly orchestrated cinematography, and suitably restrained (graphic though not gratuitous) imagery. Admittedly, the screenplay could use some work in a few spots (most notably with tighter writing and clearer plot elaboration), but it also manages to successfully fuse the inherent nature of several genres, including drama, dark humor and smart horror, while also presenting a wealth of insights in an array of areas. Through this picture, it’s easy to see how Coogler has appreciably upped his game as a filmmaker, one that bodes well for his future in the field. It indeed represents the revelation of a talent more profound than anyone has previously recognized or properly acknowledged. “Sinners” is a work that deserves to be remembered come awards season later this year. Let’s hope that it is.

<em>'Sinners'</em> is a fair load of fun. It admittedly didn't fully knock my socks off, but there isn't any doubt that it is a very good film. It's stylish with impressive music and visuals, whilst all of the acting talent give good performances. It's paced astutely too. Michael B. Jordan is as entertaining as he usually tends to be, I do like seeing him act. The dual role is done well here, the 'split screen' is solid but my brain sillily - no matter the movie or standard of how they portray the same actor twice - simply cannot interpret the effect as seamless. Jack O'Connell stands out behind Jordan, particularly for the moments of sing. Hailee Steinfeld and Wunmi Mosaku are the others that I took notice of too, same can be said for Delroy Lindo, Li Jun Li and Omar Miller; I oddly always think of <em>'American Pie Presents: Band Camp'</em> with the latter (I'm so sorry, Omar). I must say, the trailers revealed too much. I tend to avoid those so assume I didn't get the full brunt of it anyway, though even so I remember catching a couple of bits that don't occur until the gritty part of the movie. It's no biggie, trailers are designed to get bums on seats after all.

I don't think I liked it as much as most people seem to, and definitely not as much as the critics, but think this movie nailed about 85% of what it tried to. The setting, music, costumes, makeup, gore, and effects were exceedingly well done. The film is well-acted (Delroy Lindo was the standout) and it was definitely worth seeing in the theatre. My only complaints are that the ending felt rushed, there are a couple of oddly out of place surrealist sequences, and the villain was weak. It's a fairly long film already, but I think it would have been better if we'd gotten to see another 10 minutes of the interaction between the villain and his initial pursuers, and a few flashbacks would have been helpful. I also think this story would have worked better as a TV series, but still, a very original and enjoyable film. It reminded me a fair bit of the first season of Interview with a Vampire.

Sinners started off similar to a gritty drama in the Deep South, every character felt so built and I was fully invested. Then the vampire elements started twirling in. That first fade into the moon, the guitar riff, unbelievably hard Mr. Coogler. It gave a feeling I haven’t felt since watching dune 2. Oh and the scene where we go through the history and future of music, best scene of the decade maybe? That juke joint was heaven for clarksville that night, a place where people could finally let loose and forget about all their work to enjoy powerful music, rooted in their ancestry. I ascended to heaven, and I’m not coming back down. Under here is a review I wrote in a discord server you don’t need to read it it’s pretty basic: Sinners is the new film from Ryan Coogler, and his first fully original story. This movie just proves how awesome and competent of a director Ryan Coogler is. This movie expertly genre blends drama with horror, which all encompasses the theme of black ownership, music, and religion. Sinners is one of the best new movies I’ve seen this decade. The cinematography (which I luckily saw in 70mm IMAX) was so beautiful and had chills every time the frame would expand to show off a landscape, and breathtaking sunsets and sunrises. Sometimes the frame would transition from a haunting 🤫 to a beautiful moonlight which was backed by the 10/10 musical score. I will mention more later. BTW this movie has one of the BEST SEQUENCES that will make you ASCEND IN YOUR SEAT. Jaw was dropped. It’s not even a horror sequence. The horror elements are so well used in this movie, it’s like kissing somebody and you get a tingle everywhere when something awesome happens. Everything is so badass and goes hard. The action made me shake for the whole 3rd act, it ruled. The end got very emotional too. So so so freaking perfect. See this in a theater. Oh yeah the score. THE GUITAR SHREDDING AT THE BEST TIMES OHOOHOHOHOOH 10/10

Michael B. Jordan is “Smoke” and twin brother “Stack” in this classy drama of a pair who’ve lived on the wrong side of the tracks for most of their lives, but have determined to go home and try to go straight. To that end, they buy an old barn and hope to set up their own speakeasy - with only a nominal nod to prohibition - pumping to the rafters with dancing and blues music. On the way, they ally with talented musician “Sammie” (Miles Caton) and, of course, there’s a bit of baggage for the siblings as they return to a town that’s not altogether welcoming. Once home, a mixture of confidence, threats and collective charisma succeeds in assembling a crowd for their opening night. Pretty swiftly, though, that grand celebration attracts the attention of some travellers who are keen to join the party, but perhaps in true Charlie Daniels style, they have an altogether more menacing agenda. This is the cinematic equivalent of an LP, this film. It starts with one side gradually introducing us a rich collection of characters all of whom could quite plausibly have lived in Mississippi at a time when segregation was as rife as illicit booze, and the two more recently hailing from Chicago gives things a certain gangster element too. There is also a very subtly powerful effort from Hailee Steinfield as “Mary” too. The flip side of the record proceeds to develop some elements of peril with the story, and that’s where it rather runs out of steam for me. It tries very hard to create a sense of hot, sweaty and frenzied jeopardy, but maybe because it has already taken quite a long time to get to this stage, that all comes across as a bit rushed and lacking in punch. It looks great, the visual effects are convincing enough and the production design smoulders perfectly. In the end, though, whilst it proves that MBJ is comfortably able to hold a story, Ryan Coogler has overly relied on a marvellously toe-tapping musical score that has been left to do much of the heavy lifting. That latter point is made more essential by a mediocre audio mix that can make the dialogue quite difficult to make out more often than I’d have liked. This seems to be an increasing issue as directors become more ambitious with their visual aspirations leaving the one thing that cannot be readily faked/augmented - the sound - left at the altar. It’s a cinema film, and will look distinctly average on a television so big screen and soundtrack audio is essential to get the best from this silky looking story with an interesting twist at the end, and again at the very end.

It's a vampire movie. They really hate White people. Sick of this proud to be racist crap.

Sinners (2025) – A Spiritual, Sonic, Soul-Shaking Masterpiece There are films that claim to echo with heart, with history, with heritage—and then there is "Sinners," Ryan Coogler’s audacious, transcendent blend of Gothic folklore, musical soulcraft, and cultural reclamation. It doesn’t just echo. It sings. It howls. It bleeds. From its first frame to its devastating final image, Sinners is a full-bodied spiritual experience masquerading as horror—a rare, roaring anomaly that doesn’t fit inside a genre but redefines what cinema can be when it chooses truth over trope. At the centre of this cinematic exorcism is music—not as adornment, but as DNA. The film’s heartbeat is the blues. And it is through that heartbeat that Coogler tells a tale steeped in generational trauma, Black identity, post-war brotherhood, the spectral weight of history, and the enduring fight for Black ownership in the face of cultural erasure. But unlike anything we've seen before, Sinners fuses those themes with a chilling yet poetic vampire mythos that feels entirely earned, never performative. It is horror, yes—but elevated horror. Arthouse. Operatic. Biblical. The Blues as Bloodline Set in the Mississippi Delta during the 1930s, Sinners follows twin brothers Smoke and Stack—both played, exquisitely and with startling distinction, by Michael B. Jordan—who return home to open a juke joint. This place, more than a bar, becomes a church of sorts: a sanctuary of soul, a communal hearthstone where Black folk gather to drink, dance, and reclaim their joy. The walls of the juke joint hum with possibility. With danger. With prophecy. Even if only for one night. And then there’s the moment. The moment that marks "Sinners" not just as a great film, but a holy text of black magic. Sammie, the film’s humble preacher-boy turned guitar savant, takes to the stage. He plays the blues—slow, aching, ancestral. As he sings, the camera glides across the dance floor in a long, liquid motion, capturing the swelling ecstasy of Black joy. And then the music begins to evolve. It morphs, imperceptibly at first, weaving through the history of Black music—African tribal chants, gospel, jazz, funk, soul, R&B, hip-hop—all spiralling into the foundation laid by the blues. It's not a medley; it’s a resurrection. An invocation. This is music as invocation. And in that moment, it summons something darker. Outside the joint, stands the vampire Remmick, captivated by the sounds, eyes glowing like embers, face lit with a deranged smile. He listens intently, staring into the soul of their cultural history as the place is set spiritually ablaze. Sammie's music called to something ancient. Something seductive. Something that knows the blues because it was born of the same sorrow. A Clash of Cultures—Scored to Perfection What Coogler and composer Ludwig Göransson achieve with the film’s score is revolutionary. The music is not just thematic; it is political. It is narrative. When the scenes pulse with Black culture, the music leans blues, jazz, rhythm. But when Remmick and his fellowship—white vampires born of pain and craving—invade, the score rips into metal, into noise. The clash is jarring. Purposeful. It feels like an act of war. The blues is not just an aesthetic—it’s a battlefield. And the music becomes the weapon, the shield, and the lament. The result is a full-body experience. As Remmick’s power grows, the music becomes louder, more aggressive, less familiar. It’s a stunning metaphor: Black culture, as it always has, being appropriated, corrupted, and consumed until it’s unrecognisable to those who birthed it. And yet, it fights back. Every scene feels like a spiritual wrestling match, waged through melody and rhythm. Remmick: The Devil At The Door Jack O’Connell gives a performance so disturbingly charismatic you almost want to follow him into the dark and join his fellowship. Remmick isn’t just a villain—he’s a prophet of perversion. A being who believes, earnestly, that he is liberating the people he turns. He doesn’t kill for sport; he offers salvation through eternal night. He doesn’t deny his love for Black culture—he craves it. He worships it. He believes the blues is a divine language, one that called him into existence. His monologues are lyrical and damning, his gaze never cruel, always convincing. You don’t root for him. But you understand why someone would. One scene in particular—outside the joint, where he sings “Picked Poor Robin Clean” in the dark with his newly-turned—should be studied. It is eerily beautiful, the harmony between vampire and victim pitch-perfect, terrifying. When he and his hive recite the Lord’s Prayer in unison with Sammie, the lines between the sacred and the profane dissolve entirely. It’s religious horror at its most potent—unflinching, unforgettable. Brothers in Arms, Brothers in Grief Jordan’s dual performance as Smoke and Stack is nothing short of masterful. Stack is lighter, a dreamer. Smoke is war-weathered, clenched, sceptical. But together, they form a complete man—until tragedy forces one to stand alone. There’s a small scene near the end that shattered me more than any of the horror sequences. Smoke, shaking, tries to roll a cigarette for himself, something Stack always did for him. He fails. His hands tremble. A moment so small, yet so laden with grief, PTSD, and love that it lingers long after the credits roll. Coogler knows the power of silence. Of memory. Of unspoken bonds. And I appreciate the care that went into making sure a detail so seemingly small, was given a fitting final detail, that reassured me of the passion that went into every single god damn scene. The Voice That Summoned the Storm Miles Caton’s debut as Sammie Moore doesn’t just mark the arrival of a new talent—it announces a generational voice. At just 20, Caton steps into the role of the preacher’s son with a presence that feels both timeless and urgent. His musical roots run deep—raised in a gospel-rich family, he’s been singing since the age of three, and his voice carries that lineage with soulful weight. Caton not only sings in Sinners but co-wrote the haunting original track “Last Time (I Seen the Sun)” with Alice Smith and composer Ludwig Göransson. Learning blues guitar in just two months for the role, his performance in the juke joint sequence is a revelation—channeling pain, power, and prophecy in equal measure. It’s no wonder director Ryan Coogler described him as “a once-in-a-lifetime voice.” Caton’s portrayal of Sammie is the film’s heartbeat—a blend of innocence and depth that lingers long after the credits roll. Framing the Fire Autumn Durald Arkapaw’s cinematography in Sinners is nothing short of masterful. Making history as the first female cinematographer to shoot on large-format IMAX film, she crafts a visual narrative that is both expansive and intimate. Utilizing a blend of IMAX and Ultra Panavision 70 formats, the film’s shifting aspect ratios serve the story’s emotional beats—widening to capture the vastness of the Mississippi Delta, then narrowing to draw us into the characters’ inner worlds. Night scenes glow with a haunting luminescence, firelight dances with purpose, and each frame feels meticulously composed yet organically alive. Arkapaw’s lens doesn’t just show us the world of Sinners—it immerses us in its soul, making the supernatural elements feel grounded and the historical context visceral. Her work elevates the film, turning each scene into a painting that breathes. Anchors in the Storm Delroy Lindo's performance is like jazz—unpredictable, soulful, and necessary. He doesn't undercut the film's tension, but rather gives it breath. In a narrative that leans heavy on atmosphere and myth, he injects a kind of familial levity that feels earned and lived-in. His presence is grounding, a reminder of what’s at stake when the horror threatens to strip the story of its humanity. And then there’s Hailee Steinfeld, as Mary, bringing a layered grace to the screen—mischievous, magnetic, and caught between identities. Raised with Smoke and Stack, her loyalty runs deep, but her character exists in a space that blurs lines—between belonging and otherness, tradition and disruption. There's a quiet poetry to how her arc unfolds, and you’re left wondering whether she’s a reflection of what it means to straddle cultures, or a symbol of something even more elusive. Either way, she leaves a mark—fierce and unforgettable. And then there's Wunmi Mosaku’s portrayal of Annie, which anchors the film with a quiet yet potent strength. She is a bridge to ancestral wisdom, embodying the resilience and spiritual power of the Black community. Her presence is not loud, but her influence is undeniable—rooted in healing and protection, offering a steady counterpoint to the chaos around her. Annie doesn’t just fight evil with wisdom—she fights to preserve the very soul of her people. This soul isn't for sale And in a film layered with metaphor and meaning, black ownership doesn’t just echo—it resounds. It's not a theme that visits—it’s the architecture. And Sammie becomes the embodiment of that principle. His music, his soul, his presence—they’re not just narrative devices, they’re battlegrounds. There’s a moment—powerful, worded like an offer but weighted like a threat—where what’s being asked isn’t blood or vengeance, but ownership of that brilliance. Remmick offers everybody else their lives if they let him take Sammie, but Slim responds "he's ours." It’s not a loud moment. But it cuts deep. And it’s in the refusal—in the stillness of collective resistance—that the film finds one of its most potent truths. That cultural power isn’t just about legacy—it’s about protection, unity, and the refusal to be harvested. Beyond the Oscars There are films designed to win Oscars. And then there are films like Sinners—films that make awards feel meaningless. Because what do statues mean when you’ve built a monument? Sinners is that monument. To music. To Blackness. To art. To survival. To Cinema. It doesn’t just earn your praise. It earns your soul. In a world where genre cinema often feels disposable, Sinners is an inheritance. A film made by people who love the culture deeply enough to protect it, critique it, and immortalise it. It is horror not just of the supernatural, but of history, of identity, of being seen and erased all at once. And yet, it is joyous. It is poetic. It is epic. It is... unforgettable.

Full disclosure, I've been to Clarksdale and it is the best. This film is like Morgan Freeman's juke joint. I liked the compact, intimate nature of Red's more. Middle of this is draggy. Parties aren't that fun to watch. There are a lot of quick and intense action bits to wake up for but at the same time...it's long. Why do movies have to be so long? Why does the ending of this have to be even longer? Why did survival have to be so impossible as to remove all stakes? Just a big, bloated juke joint of a film. But still. Killing klan members and vampires is fun. Great action bits. Fun use of traditions. Likeable characters.