Ryan Coogler’s Sinners arrives like a blast of bloody midnight air, marking the moment a filmmaker with undeniable technical and storytelling prowess finally unleashes his most personal vision. After years of franchise work, Coogler has delivered a film that marries horror convention with cultural interrogation in ways that feel both audacious and essential.
Coogler has always been a director of considerable promise, emerging unscathed from the Marvel machine that has flattened so many distinctive voices. Despite crafting films of real merit under franchise banners over the last decade (the terrific Creed, the first Black Panther — still the only Marvel film nominated for Best Picture), I’ve longed to see his unique worldview explored more thoroughly, something largely absent since Fruitvale Station. With Sinners, his personality roars back with undeniable force, drawing from personal roots — his family’s connection to blues music through his Mississippi-born uncle.
The lazy comparison is calling this “Coogler’s From Dusk Till Dawn,” and while apt in its “vampires in a bar” premise, it misses the deeper ambitions at play. The journey of twin brothers Smoke and Stack (both played with remarkable nuance by Michael B. Jordan) to open their “juke joint” is fraught with challenges that extend beyond supernatural threats. Their return to their small hometown necessitates negotiating with the local chapter of the KKK and confronting personal histories — like Stack’s relationship with family friend Mary (Hailee Steinfeld). From the outset, Coogler establishes racial tensions that simmer beneath the surface, a thematic concern consistent with his filmography.
What’s genuinely new here is Coogler’s full-throated embrace of horror. Between the “base under siege” architecture of the film’s latter half and Ludwig Göransson‘s score — simultaneously anachronistic yet perfect in creating a permeance of doom-laden atmosphere reminiscent of Fright Night — Coogler has crafted a more effective tribute to ’80s horror classics than anything since “It Follows.”
The film’s most inspired touch is its unique wrinkle in vampire mythology: musicians who can pierce the veil of time and death through sheer talent. This concept plays with the folkloric tale of Robert Johnson at the crossroads, who allegedly sold his soul to the devil in exchange for musical genius. While this element primarily serves as prelude to the bloodbath, it produces the film’s most bravura sequence — a panoramic shot showcasing Sammie’s (Miles Caton) playing talents at the juke joint. The camera cycles through the establishment, capturing an increasing number of musicians being spirited into the scene from across time and culture — African tribesmen, Chinese opera performers, and an Eddie Hazel type in full Parliament-Funkadelic regalia. This fleeting interlude lingers in memory long after the credits roll.
It’s this very musical talent that attracts the vampires, led by Jack O’Connell‘s deliciously sinister Remmick. These creatures hunger not just for blood but for shared memory and experience — a vampire who becomes an increasingly accomplished musician by feeding off the talents and memories of those he adds to his coven. It’s difficult not to connect this parasitic creative relationship to contemporary concerns about artificial intelligence and its application in art today.
Coogler doesn’t shy away from the sensual aspects of vampire mythology either. In an era where blockbusters treat their characters like anatomically incorrect dolls, Sinners embraces its R-rating with refreshing candor. Jordan and Steinfeld generate palpable chemistry, with sequences that graphically discuss oral pleasures and a particularly memorable “swapping of spit.” The film’s approach to sexuality recalls the raw sensuality of Black Snake Moan — unabashed and integral to character development.
The technical craftsmanship impresses throughout, particularly Coogler’s use of IMAX cameras to heighten dramatic moments. When the final showdown approaches and the screen expands from letterbox to full canvas, the sensation can only be described as “it’s on!” Jordan continues to cement his status as one of our most reliable leading men, displaying subtle differences between the twin brothers that feel lived-in rather than performative. Steinfeld clearly relishes the opportunity to embrace the material’s horror elements with an energetic performance reminiscent of early Sam Raimi. And Delroy Lindo? The consummate character actor provides necessary levity while delivering the film’s most heartbreaking monologue.
The film isn’t without flaws. Some expository dialogue occasionally underestimates audience intelligence, a problem endemic to modern cinema. Certain CGI elements feel distractingly out of place against the film’s otherwise tactile atmosphere. But these are minor complaints against the backdrop of what Sinners accomplishes — a culturally rich, genuinely frightening horror film that prioritizes character and theme without sacrificing genre pleasures.
With Sinners, Coogler has crafted his most personal and ambitious work to date, one that uses vampire mythology to explore cultural appropriation, racial tension, and the transcendent power of music. It’s a blood-soaked love letter to blues tradition that understands the genre’s origins in both celebration and suffering — much like the horror genre itself.