‘SINNERS’ Review: Ryan Coogler’s Bloody South Fantasia with Rebellious Style
Sin or to not sin. Michael B Jordan plays twin 1930s American mobsters in the blues-infused supernatural phenomenon and an ode to Black Dandies.
Ryan Coogler directed Black Panther (2018) and the sequel Wakanda Forever (2022), two of Marvel’s rich and textured most recent studio productions. The Rocky spin-off Creed (2015) represents the premium standard when directors continue a franchise, honouring its timeless themes. But who knew that something thrilling and untamed as Sinners? Then also, to hand pick Michael B Jordan in the duo role of 1930s gangster twins Stack and Smoke, its steamy, sexy southern horror, infused with blues which flows as free as the blood.
We are introduced to the brothers, leaving Chicago with cash earned through blood, sweat, and craftsmanship. Back in their home state of Mississippi, they team up with their young cousin Sammie (Miles Catona, R&B singer and songwriter), an aspiring bluesman, to perform at their up-and-coming black-owned bar. However, within the walls of the Ku Klux Klan under Jim Crow laws, the evil that awaits them creeps closer.
If you observe closely, Sinners displays the significance of the costume design chosen for the Black leads in the film. The Black dandy identity from the early 18th century trickled down into 1930s America, but Coogler’s vision presents the importance of black history. Stack and Smoke illustrate a transformation from being enslaved and stylised as luxury products, after acquiring wealth and status. A Black man’s style reinforces harmful stereotypes, traditionally designed to embody “maleness,” and often mocked. Sinners embark on suppressed liberation, when a Klan member selling the disabused sawmill, addresses one brother as “boy.”
Deep reverences for the Black South, scenes of beautiful imagery of the cotton fields along endless dusty roads, lands that have witnessed much sorrow. “We came back home to deal with the devil we know.” Smoke and Stack responded to young Sammie while riding among the enslaved black people. The way the film bounces between contradictions and cultural references to the rural South is generally refreshing. Coogler marinates two characters and the world around them after the brothers buy a derelict sawmill to refurbish from a man who later proves to be a crucial member of the KKK. Sinners fester with intriguing ideas and even more in-depth characters, as the desire to hold more knowledge than just over a two-hour run time, feels impossible.
Coogler does not cut corners, instead, he marinates the series of events and trusts his audience to unfurl the emotional sequence of his movie slowly. The opening of the jukejoint winds up telling the story of Black people’s knack for carving happiness out of tragic circumstances. As I watched, it was challenging to not help think about how Black Americans have wallowed in joy amid today’s political climate. While white Americans angrily take to the streets and attend Trump rallies, Black Americans gather at cookouts, parties and baby showers. Sinners create a space for necessary questions we hold within ourselves and make racial conflict clear to non-Black audiences.
The cinematic greatness of Black Southern delights through darkness. As Delta Slim tells Sammie, “Blues wasn’t forced on us like that religion.”