By Hank Byrd
Film has a unique power as a medium. It can galvanize us to witness together, inspire our inner activist, or sow division with intention. Rare is the film that does all three. The last time I saw that kind of impact was Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing. Now, Ryan Coogler, ever in tune with the pulse of Black culture, delivers his boldest work yet in Sinners: a film that is sexy, spiritual, scary as hell, and unapologetically Black.
Teaming once again with his brother-in-arms Michael B. Jordan, Coogler sets his story in 1932 Mississippi, where twins Smoke and Stack (Jordan, in a dual role) return home to Clarksdale after years working for Al Capone in Chicago. With stolen Irish liquor and dreams of opening a juke joint, the two enlist their musically gifted cousin Sammy (a breakout performance by Miles Caton) and the legendary, liquor-soaked bluesman Delta Slim (played with scene-stealing gusto by Delroy Lindo).
This isn’t just a homecoming, it’s a reckoning. Smoke and Stack must face not just the ghosts of the past, but the very real spirits they’ve stirred. Smoke reconnects with Annie (Wunmi Mosaku), a healer, lover, and guide steeped in African spirituality and the occult. She’s the film’s heart, and its oracle. Through her, Coogler brings African holistic medicine, ancestral knowledge, and the spiritual cost of cultural erasure front and center.
But Sinners isn’t content with telling a personal story, it’s a parable with fangs. Literally. The entire film takes place over one night; from dusk till dawn, in a nod to Rodriguez and Tarantino. But here, the violence is less spectacle and more sermon. As night falls, so too does the veil between worlds. We meet Remmick (Jack O’Connell), an ancient Irish vampire drawn to the juke by the spiritual force of Black music: music so powerful it can tear through time, space, and even death itself.
Film review: Sinners is a masterpiece
Let’s talk symbolism. The juke sits adjacent to the cotton field: a haunting reminder of America’s economic slavery, where Black labor was paid in tokens, not dollars. This historical truth bleeds into the narrative with subtle precision. As Sammy plays a transformative set that defies even his preacher father’s scorn, the film erupts into a visual and sonic spectacle. It is one of the most powerfully shot musical sequences I’ve seen on film. It’s not just performance, it’s invocation.
And that’s when the predators come.
Remmick: white, ancient, and seductive, wants to “share” music and culture. But Coogler’s not here for kumbaya. He’s showing us a well-worn strategy of white liberalism: assimilation disguised as unity. Remmick doesn’t ask to be a guest; he demands to be invited in. A vampire’s request. A colonizer’s plea. His path in? Mary (Hailee Steinfeld), Stack’s white-passing ex-lover, conflicted and vulnerable. She is the conduit, intentional or not, for infiltration. This is not just horror. This is history.
And here’s the bite: Vampirism isn’t just a genre trope. In the Sinners film, it’s a metaphor for white liberalism turned monstrous. The promise of shared culture becomes a death sentence. Because to become immortal, you must die first. You lose your soul. You lose the sun. And Black people, we are people of the sun. What nourishes us becomes our loss. Vampirism is not just physical, it is cultural consumption without contribution. It is gentrification with fangs.
Some viewers will miss this. And that’s okay. Coogler encoded this film. He made it for us, not for everyone. That juke joint was FUBU: For Us, By Us. And when you let outsiders in, especially those who presumably “mean well”, the results can be dangerous.
Film takes viewers on wild ride
Let’s be real: Black music birthed every major American genre: country, bluegrass, rock, hiphop. And just as those genres were co-opted and commodified, so too is Black culture constantly under threat of exploitation or erasure. Look no further than Cowboy Carter, Beyoncé’s genredefying love letter to country that faced resistance from the very industry her people helped create. Remmick isn’t just a vampire, he’s the entire country music establishment in fangs and redneck clothes.
Naturally, the Sinners film has stirred division. Some Black audiences, tethered to the religious doctrine handed down by enslavers, have dismissed Sinners as demonic or sacrilegious. But if they watched closer, they’d see that Sammy, torn between the church and the blues, is the embodiment of that very spiritual conflict. Blues music was born from the Black church. That tension is our history.
Meanwhile, conservatives cried “woke propaganda.” So let’s pause and unpack that, because clearly folks need a reminder: Woke is not yours to weaponize. It originated in African-American Vernacular English, meaning “alert to racial prejudice and discrimination.” It was never about canceling culture, it was about surviving with it intact.
What Coogler does with Sinners is not just tell a story, he tells our story. He shows the danger of inviting the uninitiated and compromised into sacred spaces. He dares to place African spirituality and Black identity front and center in a genre that rarely honors either. He drops encoded messages for those with ears to hear.
And for those who don’t? This film wasn’t for you.
Stay woke.
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