Trying to leave their troubled lives behind, twin brothers return to their hometown to start again, only to discover that an even greater evil is waiting to welcome them back.
One famous quote about sin and fallibility that will stick with me ‘till the end of my days is from Bible verse 1 John 1:8: “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us”, emphasizing the reality that we all sin and that claiming otherwise is a form of self-deceptive denial. “Sinners” is more than the living embodiment of that verse or just a simply complex blend of operatic legend and heightened genre.
It’s an allegory for the darker sinful natures within crossing color lines, waiting to be awakened by the right trigger.
Under Ryan Cooler's serene demeanor is a constantly active mind, analyzing every scene with a critical eye; directing-wise, he possesses a fervent intensity that drives every robust, fluid motion in the way he firmly holds to his creative intent. Ensuring that each shot captures the exact mood and message he envisions with unwavering swagger and grooviness, like a poet, he balances leaving both ample space and none at all for interpretation.
Now this is a presentation worthy of what it boasts and leaves no stone unturned: it’s one thing to position and set this in 1930’s Mississippi but this truly carry the full weight of both the segregated South and the Great Depression through the broadest of scopes and an expansive scale with amazing attention to detail. For such a semi-limited set of locations, equipping the production design with an overwhelming sense of authenticity and purpose, you really do feel like they have unconsciously transported you right into the very heart of a past world ravaged by tragedy, mystery and a special kind of resilience, expertly crafted and textured by deft hands. Such commitment to place and time pervades every scene and every narrative beat and for a $90 million budget, you actually do get the sense it lives up to and respects that budget.
It packs such a perilously dense atmosphere too, a messy but effusive byproduct of the architectural framework for this film's emotional landscape.
Such brilliant crowd control is done with the pacing, fine-tuned the way a maestro conducts a classical music piece: slow and steady to catch you bearings before escalating in intensity and then exploding towards a hearty crescendo that pays off the fantasia. Ruth E. Carter’s costume design fuses every stitch of cultural history and period accuracy to highlight a spiritually pure transformation, the tone tows the line between jangling your nerves and surprising you often and the entire visual aesthetic and unconventional shift in style doesn’t deprive its audience of the vibrant cacophony that dilates the rapturous boundaries he created for this world and what a visual delight it turns out to be. Proudly shot on 65mm with IMAX cameras, the shallow focus and that pores out from the cinematography, backed up by some rather overzealous editing, unravel before your eyes, creating a tapestry of colors and imagery so alluring that it almost begs to be felt on a larger-than-life scale, where each minuscule detail contributes to an ever-expanding panorama.
The high contrast and deep shadow-play that come with it can be distracting and I unfortunately didn’t see the movie in the aspect ratio it was meant to be experienced in but hot damn, so many sweat-drenched frames and all of them are magnificent.
And the music, oh lord almighty, the music! Both the soundtrack and earthy score take full advantage of music's universal power to connect the present with both the past and the future; bluesy, moody, full of soul, and twangy in equal measure, Ludwig Göransson’s score weaves seamlessly in and out of the narrative fabric, stitching together the weight of history with the urgency of the present.
No question Michael B Jordan and company all bring 110 percent to the proceedings regarding their performances - all multilayered tour-de-forces resonating through vibrant energy or subtle intensity. However, the real star is Miles Caton; a phenomenal singer, a poised performer AND it’s his first acting role too? Strap the rocket to this kid, and he’s gonna go far. It helps too that almost every character here has a purpose that extends beyond being just a colorful caricature, each one an intricate cog in the grand machine of this unforgiving and endlessly rewarding odyssey.
In what’s essentially a justifiably aggressive method of genre-clothing to sell an intellectually cerebral mirror, this is basically Queen of the Damned meets From Dusk Till Dawn, where the film shifts gears midway through and the horror both overwhelms and enhances the experience. Here though, they weaves in layers of emotional complexity and rich narrative depth to where even when Coogler does have to conform to certain genre conventions, this holistic seductive allure of familiar terrifically brooding territory is coked up on so much energy and momentum to drip feed into the mother of exultations, that it still manages to feel fresh and vital, owing in no small part to the quality of its excess.
A full-throated celebration of Afro-American culture vividly emphasizing the critical importance of preserving one's roots and cultural heritage, it draws a clear distinction between authentic cultural expressions that belong inherently to a community, and the external beliefs imposed upon them through history. There’s only so many times you can mourn broken Black lineages and make bare the stains of American racism through this medium but Coogler masters the 3 layers of literal text, subtext of gentrification and pure artistic integrity to lean into the legend of blues musician Robert Johnson to weave a thematic structure every bit as mythic and grounded as it is emotionally authentic. Full advantage is taken of this premise with nary a single scene wasted and the very execution of this story’s blend of the art and supernatural makes this a mature, thoughtful and unequivocal triumph that transcends barriers and labels doled out by studios in the name of an easy sell.
And the hits kept on coming with its themes: the vampire clan work as an obvious metaphor for the invasion of the South, their parasitic nature portraying how white people bled black communities dry by forcing them into slavery or them still preying on and sucking us dry of brilliance, bravery and magic to this very day, thus mining vampirism’s symbolic potential to tell the familiar yet solid tale of exploitation. There’s also embracing of criminality as a way to transcend oppression, handling of legacy, pride, even the very stigma of Christianity is rendered impotent in this film (seeing as the religion was also forced upon black people as a means of control) while voodoo’s spiritual uncolonized power is more potent in comparison. Rich, gory, juicy material with actual bite to satiate and chew on.
Maybe this is just me being a stick in the mud, trying to find things to nitpick again but the ending of this movie threw me through a bit of a loop…..mostly because I don’t think it knew where or how it wanted to end. None of those areas made for a bad stopping point but the uncertainty of where to end things was the first time I got anxious out of sheer confusion.
An unreservedly entertaining film that effectively blends all its genre, historical, mythical and tonal components together into a delicious gumbo pot of extravagant fun, poignant commentary and exuberant fierceness, this is the type of cinematic experience packed with a zest that thrills, sucks you right in and leaves you dancing and strumming for more.
