‘Sinners’ REVIEW: A genre-bending Southern Gothic musical epic that just falls short of greatness
‘Sinners’ REVIEW: A genre-bending Southern Gothic musical epic that just falls short of greatness
Smoke and Stack (both played by Michael B. Jordan) in Sinners || Still courtesy of Warner Bros. Discovery
After spending nine years making big-budget studio features of popular movie franchises, Ryan Coogler has decided that it's time to do his own thing with Sinners — a genre-bending Southern Gothic epic that people will eventually see as a modern classic in the making despite its shortcomings.
Sinners is not only his first foray into the horror genre, but also his first project that is not part of a pre-existing IP since his debut feature, Fruitvale Station. It's hard not to mention this fact, because the entire film screams like a declaration that he's not just some director-for-hire who's only in it for the Marvel money. There seems to be an aching desire in him; hidden and darker parts of his artistry that he hasn't directly unleashed in his previous committee-driven projects. And he's been itching for the ultimate opportunity to show this side of his as a moment of self-actualization.
And damn does it show in his latest film. Shot in 65mm film on IMAX and Ultra Panavision cameras alternately, Sinners lives and breathes once the first frame of the film's 1930s Mississippi plays out. The film follows gangster twins Smoke and Slack (both played with brooding charisma by Michael B. Jordan) as they, along with an assortment of colorful characters, are confronted with dark forces during the opening night of their juke joint.
Pearline (Jayme Lawson), Annie (Wunmi Mosaku), Smoke (Michael B. Jordan), Sammie (Miles Caton) and Grace (Li Jun Li) preparing to fight in Sinners || Still courtesy of Warner Bros. Discovery
For the first hour or so, Coogler establishes each of its ensemble and sets up many dominoes for the film to topple over in the climax. Here, audiences will experience the film’s grand scale. There is a particular tracking shot where the film introduces supporting characters, Bo and Grace, and slowly puts into perspective the close-knit community of this town, while making viewers feel like they're walking through the same space and breathing the same air. A lot of the characterization and world-building are nicely done and necessary to make people care about these folks long before first blood gets spilt, although it can be overcrowded and heavy at times that it feels like Coogler is checking boxes of what things to do before all hell breaks loose.
If there's anything this movie is at fault with, it's that Coogler does a little too much to tell its story and emphasize its thesis when keeping it simple would have done just fine. And it's crucial for a film with these many characters and ideas to be structured and paced simply, so that audiences can soak in it rather than be force-fed by it.
Take, for this instance, how Coogler decides to open the movie with an animated prologue explaining the movie's central themes through narration. It's neat, for sure, but when the same points are communicated more strikingly later on through sound and visuals, it begs to question whether or not the film needs its core themes to be declared in the first place.
Smoke (Michael B. Jordan) and Sammie (Miles Caton) in Sinners || Still courtesy of Warner Bros. Discovery
Another baffling thing is how Coogler decides to structure the film in both its opening and endings. After the animated prelude, the film opens with a flash forward showing the morning after the bulk of the main story takes place. The cold open serves as a tease for the carnage to come, but by revealing the fate of a certain important character and showing blink-and-you'll-miss-it flashes of the climax, it deflates the tension instead, and comes across as trying a bit too hard to build suspense and anticipation when the film could've just let the story unfold naturally.
The amount of teases and nods at how the climax will unfold — along with the amount of time spent on building its close-knit character dynamic — builds up plenty of hefty promise to the film's crescendo, but when it arrives, it doesn't quite live up to its potential. The climactic showdown offers a lot of excitement and dark gooey blood splatters, but it feels like it's over quickly compared to the long build-up to get there. The action, while motivated, lacks the certain viscera it needs to make every torn artery pop beyond the screen. And again, all the crucial story beats and the bodies being piled up — it all feels a bit too telegraphed like Coogler is checking boxes rather than making you feel like you're in the moment.
The same can be said with the film’s multiple endings. Without spoiling anything (but it's one that needs to be mentioned), there are post-credits scenes in this movie that are essential parts to the narrative's resolution. The scenes, by themselves, are excellent, offering quieter and intimate moments that beautifully cap off a certain character's arc. And yet something about them being post-credits scenes just reek of the standard Marvel-isms that Coogler has unwittingly carried over, and gives off the feeling that the movie doesn't know which satisfying note to end.
The standout “I Lied to You” sequence in Sinners || Still courtesy of Warner Bros. Discovery
Sinners isn't deprived of incredible moments though. There is one sequence in the middle where everyone will collectively agree it's the film's emotional highpoint, and I may argue that it's one that history will remember fondly over. Presented as if it’s all in one take, this said moment is a breathtaking spectacle of ecstatic bodies moving to the symphony of pulse-pounding blues, deftly fused with folk, jazz, soul and hip-hop that span across different generations. The deafening soundscape exquisitely teeters the line between cacophony and harmony, producing earth-shaking percussions that rock the entire theater. The mingling of music, blaring vocals and elaborately choreographed imagery transports the viewer to a place that's not of common rationality, but an ethereal space driven by primal instincts, free of burdens and strife.
If the opening narration says upfront the film’s most potent idea — that music can pierce the veil between life and death, transcend space and time, while also attracting forces who wish to exploit or quash it — then this faux-oner shows it with such joyous splendor and creeping trepidation.
It goes to say that music is the lifeblood of Sinners, and whenever there's music being performed onscreen, it grabs hold of your attention and knocks every fiber of the senses. Ludwig Göransson’s score and soundtrack for the movie is truly one for the books. Göransson has produced incredible soundtracks over the past decade, but his collective work with Black blues musicians for Sinners may have been his most textured and ambitious one in his oeuvre, and is a stunning testament to the art of collaboration bringing in the best of everyone.
Anyway, it may seem like I'm fairly mixed about this movie, but I still think Sinners is a very good film, and I'm glad Coogler finally gets to create something gorgeously cinematic that is morbid yet humorous, sensual and soulful, especially in an age when sequels and remakes are being funded in millions and regurgitated for profits and original movies don't seem to get a lot of love. There's an apparent love and passion in the cinematic arts here that a part of me wants to forgive any aspect that it falls short of. Because at the end of the day, pure artistic visions — no matter how untidy they are — do stand the test of time and are worth more than soulless slops that have no ambition.
