The first review I saw for Ryan Coogler’s Sinners said, “The kind of movie that reminds you why you fell in love with movies in the first place.”
And just like that, I knew I had to watch it.
On paper, Sinners isn’t usually the type of movie I would jump to see in theaters (for reference, I usually watch romances and dramas). Described as a vampire thriller, it depicts a day in 1930s Clarksdale, Mississippi, where the town endures a night of gore, devastation, and bloody surprise.
Twin brothers, Smoke and Stack (both played by Michael B. Jordan), return to Clarksdale after seven years away working for Al Capone’s infamous gang in Chicago, now with a new prospect. They have a desire to open their own blues juke joint one day, parading around the city convincing old family, friends, and lovers to help them with the music, food, and supplies required for the night.
Smoke is more calculated and reserved than his twin: he reins in his younger brother’s fiery temper and thinks through his decisions carefully, thus why Coogler introduces him with a blue, British top hat in the opening scene with the twins. Blue represents calmness, stability, and wisdom—all traits that Smoke has. These are also reflected in the wise Annie (Wunmi Mosaku), Smoke’s lover. She’s truly a force of nature. Spiritual and riveting, she steals the screen whenever she appears. On the other hand, Stack is boisterous and rowdy, reflected in his maroon red brimmed hat. Red also represents his deep love for Mary (Hailee Steinfeld), his childhood friend-turned-lover, whose Black ancestry makes her an important part of the community. Like Stack, she isn’t afraid to express her desires and is incredibly jaunty in everything she does.
There’s also Sammie (Miles Caton), the local preacher’s son and cousin of the twins. Although the film sometimes centers around Smoke and Stack, it’s clear that the crux of the film is through Sammie and his talent for blues music. Sinners begins and ends with Sammie—the kid who has the talent to raise spirits with his music. Along with residents Grace Chow (Li Yun Li), Cornbread (Omar Benson Miller), Pearline (Jayme Lawson), and Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo), Clarksdale teams up to create a rip-roaring night of terror and passion.
There is genuinely so much to say about this movie that it’s difficult to compile my thoughts in a way that’s easily understandable, because Sinners as a whole is not easily understandable.
It’s a film that pushes you to think beyond your comfort zone. It makes you uncomfortable and forces you to reconsider your stance on political, social, and religious issues. Ryan Coogler demands the audience’s attention at all times. He made a film that is so personal to him, but also manages to be incredibly universal. Even though this was a film I didn’t expect to get emotional over or relate to, when I walked out of the theater, I felt as though I’d lived a different life for two hours and 17 minutes (in the best way possible).
The Sinners effect was the same for me as Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar—I felt devastated and changed after viewing each film, and I still wanted to keep rewatching each one over and over.
As with any decade-defining film, one of the standout elements of Sinners was the acting. I can’t laud enough praise for this ensemble cast. Everyone delivered, whether they were an extra in the raucous dance sequences or in a lead role. Speaking of lead roles, Michael B. Jordan knocked both of his roles out of the park. Usually, when an actor is cast as twins in a film, I physically cringe. In most cases (specifically excluding Lindsay Lohan as twins Hallie and Annie in the 1998 version of The Parent Trap), the twin ordeal feels like a cheap gimmick to give the audience some unnecessary thrill. However, with Smoke and Stack, Jordan gives both of them a completely different portrayal, making them feel like two entirely contrasting people, despite what your eyes tell you. I was previously aware of his acting range from Black Panther, in which he plays the complex character Killmonger, but he elevated Smoke and Stack to another level.
Matching Jordan in skill were Hailee Steinfeld, Wunmi Mosaku, and Miles Caton. Caton’s performance as Sammie was a revelation, seeing as it was his first acting job. Along with soulfully singing in Sinners, the brotherly feel between him and Jordan was undeniable. As for Steinfeld’s Mary, I think it’s the performance of her career. Although I haven’t seen everything she’s starred in, her sensual and emotionally wounded display as Mary was astounding. Mary’s character arc is one of amplified sorrow and rage, and it’s one that Steinfeld shows excellently.
Even though each performance left me amazed, there’s something about Mosaku’s Annie that scratches my brain just right. It’s clear that Mosaku connects with Annie, as her presentation of her was so purposeful. Annie is driven, even after the grief of losing a child, and her moving spirituality is at the heart of the film. Along with Sammie’s music, Annie’s connection with the world and for those she loves drives the overarching message of Sinners.
The profound acting is magnified by Autumn Durald Arkapaw’s cinematography. With this film, Arkapaw became the first woman cinematographer to shoot on 65mm film for a feature—a monumental accomplishment for one of the greatest working cinematographers today. 65mm is a type of film used for high-aspect resolution as well as a wide-screen format, making it popular among directors looking for visually stunning sequences. The trick that’s difficult with filming 65mm is that it requires a heavier camera and is therefore harder to film, but Arkapaw managed it wonderfully by utilizing cranes and some handheld shots. The result is stunning, especially when viewed in IMAX: the picture is resonant, brooding, and brilliantly lit, perfectly corresponding with the intensity of each scene. In addition, Arkapaw installed two IMAX aspect ratio changes throughout the film at certain emotional points between the 1.43:1 and 2.76:1 ratios (essentially, expanding and minimizing the screen to give the audience the full, immersive experience when it’s needed).
Sinners’s two aspect ratio changes have been heralded by the cinephile community as the best use of the technique since the famed sequence in The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, where Katniss is lifted from watching her stylist’s death (Cinna) to the opening fight of the Games, the aspect ratio expanding as the arena appears. Although I can’t divulge one of the astounding scenes that adds this (Coogler’s magnum opus scene, no doubt), it’s certainly on par with Catching Fire.
Fellow Emmy-nominated creative, Ludwig Göransson, is a longtime collaborator with Coogler and further expanded his plentiful discography with the Sinners’ score. Altogether, the best way I can describe the instrumentals is magnetic. It’s brimming with soul, authenticity, and risk, coupled with Miles Caton’s voice so profoundly. Göransson’s talent is reflected most in the coined “Surreal Montage” of the film, where the music blends seamlessly across generations with the incorporation of rap, classical, blues, reggae, and more. I cannot describe it well enough to bring it to justice—it’s an experience that must be seen on the biggest screen possible.
Looking past the technical elements of Coogler’s masterpiece, it’s clear there are deep symbolism and historical components interwoven that are expected to spark conversations and challenge mindsets. The film discusses the erased origins of Black blues music, the allure and evil of assimilationism, the importance of community, resilience, Black ownership over time, and racism.
The 1930s were, to put it simply, not a good time for the African-American community, especially in the Deep South. Segregation was still enforced with Jim Crow laws, Black communities were severely affected by the Great Depression, and unemployment was at an all-time high. However, one way the African-American community persevered was through their passion for music and dance. Blues music originated in the late 19th century, emerging from hymns sung by enslaved workers on plantations from their homeland. Especially following the abolition of slavery, it evolved into a form of releasing stressors by singing about the hardships and joys of daily life.
Clarkdale, Mississippi, where Sinners is set, is known as the birthplace of blues music. It’s also where blues legend Robert Johnson “sold his soul to the devil” at the Crossroads, in exchange for unfounded musical abilities.
Sammie is primarily based on Robert Johnson, as his musical ability “has the capability to raise the devil itself” because of the blues’s sheer power to uplift spirits of all kinds and invigorate them.
These spirits included vampires, who are played by white Irish immigrants. Vampires represent temptation, and in the film, they aim to seduce the folks at the juke joint to join them and bring them Sammie. In this story, the vampires also represent assimilation and the desire for the African-Americans to accept the offer the monsters pose. The vampires offer a life without worry, free from racial tensions and any other troubles. The main vampire, Remmick (Jack O’Connor), describes it as a path of salvation, but some aren’t so easily fooled.
Assimilation is a disease—in the context of this film, it diminishes the soul and power of the Black American community and makes them slaves once again. Coogler decided to make the vampires Irish due to their own experience with colonialism by Great Britain, and in turn, Remmick wants Smoke, Stack, Mary, and the others to experience it for themselves, displaying how colonialism and the erasure of culture is a cruel cycle.
The music, acting, cinematography, and woven historical context are only a small part of what makes this movie so great. It’s a blend of all genres: sprinkles of a musical, steamy romances, crawling suspense, satisfying action sequences, gory thrill, and a little bit of coming-of-age. It’s risky, but it works. Not only does it work, it excels.
All in all, the word I’d use to summarize Sinners is alive.
The energy practically leaps off the screen and convinces you to join in, inducing the audience into a state of wonder and awe. The power of music is displayed in full-fledged form, showing how music connects people from everywhere and creates a kind of unbridled joy that is impossible to feel in any other setting. It’s a mind-bending, spiritual experience, and I am entirely positive that this is both one of the best films of the decade and the best of 2025.
