A lot goes into making a hit. There’s of course the intention for production companies and investors to set a film up for success, especially when you have all the pieces in place to make it so: a director with a proven track record for lauded blockbuster films, a lead actor with consistent box office appeal and the acting chops to back it up, and a recent Oscar-winning composer helming a score both integral to and woven into the story.
But Sinners doesn’t rest on its team’s pre-established laurels, and it more than earns its word of mouth spread of popularity, which helped sustain it at the box office well past its fourth weekend, netting nearly $300 million worldwide. A month out in theaters, including additional expansions to more locations and added IMAX screen dates (which still ended up selling out, to the disgruntlement of your writer here who missed out on the viewing format), has kept the period horror film from Ryan Coogler thriving just barely outside the top, as the latest MCU entry Thunderbolts* currently holds the #1 spot, and has also been seeing praise as a return to form for the franchise.
The fervor surrounding the picture is in no small part due to the pieces of this puzzle really knowing each other well, all their curves and corners, so the final piece is something air tight. Or, as much as it needs to be. The backdrop of the Mississippi Delta serves to introduce us to a host of characters, all of who we get a good picture of pretty quickly. Brothers both in blood and business, Smoke and Stack, dually performed by Michael B. Jordan, establish themselves as returning hometown heroes (or scoundrels) from their time in Chicago.
Subtle references make clear their time up north has changed them, as they’ve taken a bit of the Windy City’s influence back with them. Stack, primarily dealing with the Italians, sports more fancier dress wear, with pinstripes adorning his suit, a red tie, and a wide brim fedora adding to the ensemble of the extroverted twin. Smoke, on the other hand, shows his dealings with the Irish mob as his attire is more adjacent to business workwear, with a houndstooth pattern suit and trench watch, and someone who’s more comfortable operating out of the spotlight. Even their names fit the bill, with Stack always rolling the cigarettes for Smoke to puff away at, and the clear struggle Smoke has with doing it himself later on (a possible reference to his time in WWI with Stack, and the often “invisible” injuries sustained in combat).
Then there’s the whole gang who have come together for the brothers to help put on a grand opening for Club Juke. Cousin to the twins “Preacher Boy” Sammie (Miles Caton), who’s quite impressive on the six string, Smoke’s estranged wife Annie (Wunmi Mosaku) who practices hoodoo and is handy behind the bar and kitchen, Cornbread (Omar Miller) who accepts a slick offer from Stack to skip his cotton field quota for being doorman for the night, Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo) to keep the keys going for as much Irish beer as he can drink, and married couple Grace (Li Jun Li) and Bo Chow (Yao) providing the rest of the menu, along with a painted sign in red. Stack’s old flame Mary (Hailee Steinfeld) swings by to stir up trouble, and to at least buy Sammie a drink while catching up.
All these characters have something to lose, and not just in the worst case scenario it ends up being. Sammie’s father, Jedidiah (Saul Williams), a pastor for the local community, cautions him on his admiration with blues music, believing playing the Devil’s music will draw him out and follow him home. Annie and Smoke’s loss of a child has fractured their relationship, as Smoke doesn’t subscribe to Annie’s beliefs in the hoodoo ways; his arrival does not mean they can just pick things right back up so easily. Stack continues to push Mary away because she passes for white, and her being seen with him could be dangerous for the two of them, despite his feelings towards her. Cornbread might end up with a beating or worse for missing his quota, the Chow’s have a daughter to look after and a business to run, and Slim so wisely points out to Stack during his offer that his other music gig has been a consistent hustle for ten years, and there’s no guarantee the twin’s new juke will be around tomorrow. But what is clear is they are all a part of a community, and Smoke and Stack lean on those they can trust to build up something they brought back for the community to have. A place of belonging, a sanctuary, to sweat and swing all night in and, as they put it, to be free in doing so.
It’s clear Ryan Coogler has put a lot of himself out there for this film, both in the picture and with its press run. It’s his first original story (his debut feature Fruitvale Station was an adaptation of the true story of Oscar Grant’s murder), and post-Black Panther and Creed, there may have been some self-imposed pressure on Coogler to show up and prove what he’s capable of outside of a pre-existing story to craft a film around. Coogler partnered with Kodak for a bit of advertisement meets education, taking viewers to film school for a 10 minute spot on all the different formats available to see Sinners, and what makes them different, complete with showing examples of film stock in 35mm, 70mm, and IMAX to give even the most casual movie goer a base understanding of what makes these formats different, and what might be their preferred outing to go to. The IMAX specific poster made up for the film itself is a clear homage to the famous painting “The Sugar Shack” by Ernie Barnes, something which did not go unnoticed by many eagle-eyed sleuths on TikTok.
After the widespread success of Sinners, Coogler would pen a letter posted online thanking audiences for their support of the film. ““Eternal gratitude. My heart is bursting with it. I want to thank each and every one of you who bought a ticket to see Sinners,” it reads. “Who decided to drive to see the film in different formats. Who bought popcorn and a drink, booked a sitter and carpooled, and stood in the lobby afterward and talked and made a friend. Who changed their work schedules. Who saw the film in groups.”
Coogler continued, “I believe in cinema. I believe in the theatrical experience. I believe it is a necessary pillar of society. It’s why me and so many of my colleagues have dedicated our lives to the craft. We don’t get to do what we do if you don’t show up. The global theatrical audience has allowed me to dream, find a career, and build a more sustainable life for me and my family. And the only way that I know how to thank you for that, is by continuing to mine my personal human experience and my relationships for more stories to bring to you in cinematic language. To see your response to the film has invigorated me and many others who believe in this art form.”
If the heart of the film is Ryan Coogler’s filmmaking prowess and admiration for the films and their directors he drew on for inspiration (everything from horror legends like John Carpenter and Wes Craven to modern contemporaries like Jordan Peele and the Safdie brothers), then the spirit is the music of the picture. One could say a film’s spirit is almost always found in its music. An eclectic score from Ludwig Göransson crafts careful precision on the blues sound, while weaving it into Coogler’s script to become almost its own character, as many of the cast handle the task of their own playing and singing for various arrangements with impressive, foot tapping results.
Music is shown throughout the film to bring people together, in all manners and sorts. There’s the obvious music at the juke club, but there’s also church attendees singing gospel music with a choir during Sammie’s father’s mass, or a chain gang on the fields singing a tune in rhythm to their work (to which Delta Slim cheers them on in an attempt to keep their spirits up, before a gunfire warning shot quiets everyone up). Then there’s the tunes of Remmick (Jack O’Connell) and the vampires, and how each of their songs vary in intention and approach. “Picked Poor Robin Clean” seems vanilla in comparison to what’s on Club Juke’s setlist, a seemingly safe offer from the trio to show they’re no threat. It is in fact a blues song, now being sanitized here, washed away of the culture and context inherent to it. Its vocal refrain being echoed later on as the vampire crowd surround the club is much more sinister, taunting them from inside.
It isn’t until they switch gears with actual Irish folk songs that something genuine seems to come through. Their quiet lament to Mary with “Will Ye Go, Lassie Go?” almost makes you forget the evil behind the glowing eyes, vampire fangs, and drool on the chin, like a siren’s call to passing sailors. And the show stopping “Rocky Road to Dublin” scene serves doubly here. Or triply, if you also just want to include it’s badass. The soundtrack version makes clearer use of it combining 808’s and soul refrains, blending hip hop and blues together in similar fashion to the excellent & wild musical sequence in the club of Sammie reaching out to genres of the past and future with his playing of “I Lied to You”.
As a sympathetic villain, Remmick genuinely wants to build a community of his own. Being he is a much older vampire, he is very out of place in the 1930’s Delta, but can understand the hardship they’ve endured. His musical efforts when not feigned for invitation inside are clear, tender, and invigorating, and the large party outside during this sequence puts on display almost his own version of a Club Juke without the walls. Together, through him, they could all outlive the racism in America which divides them, rather than endure it for a lifetime. Indeed, Remmick’s desire for “Fellowship and Love” is enticing, were it not coming from a twisted place; a misuse of good faith, as his own monstrous desires betray what humanity he may still convey.
I would be remiss if I didn’t note, as we jump forward in time to the 90’s, there is no explicit mention from our surviving characters if things have gotten better or worse for them as Black Americans. But, maybe it can be inferred. Stack and Sammie would have both lived through Jim Crow, a second World War, McCarthyism, the Civil Rights Movement, the height of the Black Panther Party, the crack epidemic of the 80’s, and the MOVE bombing of 1985. While it is unclear what month in 1992 we jump to at the end, it happens to be the same year the Los Angeles riots took place, after four LAPD officers were acquitted for the arrest and severe & excessive beating of Rodney King. Notably, Sammie rejects Stack’s offer to be turned, despite him being able to tell he’s nearing the end of his life, saying “I think I’ve seen enough of this place”.
The hopes and dreams he had as a youth, even when hearing about the twins being in Chicago where there’s supposedly “no Jim Crow up there”, have long been dashed by time and the slow grind of justice that even now still seems almost standstill. Perhaps him choosing the music over his faith is what sustained him towards the turn of the century, in spite of the hardship seen across his lifetime. Indeed, the music is what he put his faith in, the way the blues spoke to him, to others, across generations. Stack, despite going the way of eternal life and looking very much of the times, blinged out with a Jesus piece and Coogi sweater, seems to yearn for the old days, the old ways, and the old music. He recalls the day alongside Sammie, the last time he saw his brother Smoke, the last time he saw the sun, and the feeling of unabashed, blissful freedom shared amongst one another. Sammie as well regards it as the “best day of his life” before things went south. Interesting, how trauma can still be outrun and outlived by joy, the untapped potential of what the day can bring, and the sanctuary of community and expression.
Coogler closes out his letter saying, “Every time you show up to the theaters you allow us to come back and do it again. And together maybe we can expand the definition of what a blockbuster is, what a horror movie is, and of what an IMAX audience looks like.”, along with signing off with the vampires “Fellowship and Love” mantra.
If we can take the teachings from a film like Sinners to heart, the requirement to ask permission to enter into worlds of cinema & culture which rhyme and resonate with ones own may no longer be needed, so long as we fix our hearts first (Thank you, Mr. David Lynch). Keep them intact, guarded, but ultimately open to the breadth of experience we can provide one another. There is pleasant company among all of us born into sin, not lost in the cold of the night to see the warmth of a new day’s sunrise. Play on, play on, Sammie.
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