‘Sinners’ Is A Horror Flick With A Lot On Its Mind

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There’s a scattered sequence midway through Ryan Coogler’s “Sinners” where the Jim Crow-era horror flick completely abandons expectations of twin Michael B. Jordans fighting off bloodthirsty vampires to transport viewers to a time-warped fever dream in the centralized juke joint.

Sammie, aka Preacher Boy (played finely by newcomer Miles Caton, who toured with H.E.R.), is singing and playing a rousing blues number on his guitar when you notice a breakdancer in the crowd getting down in the middle of the floor. Next, a hip-hop DJ spins on turntables with a group of gang-bangers off in the next room, then a girl straight out of the ’90s twerks without a care while the camera later pans to a band of Chinese dancers and an African drummer onstage — the dizzying list of misplaced characters goes on. All these cultural elements, a kaleidoscope of the past, present and future, fuse on the dance floor while the fiery walls of the building burn down around them.

If it sounds like there’s a lot going on, that’s because there is. But this is essentially what the entire viewing experience of “Sinners” is like — chaotic, electric, stirring, engrossing and, at times, confusing.

That’s not to say “Sinners” isn’t a bold piece of cinema putting Black horror back in the spotlight, because, for the most part, it is. It’s the biggest swing Coogler has ever taken in a silver screen spectacle and also his first completely original — and most personal — film as both writer and director. After only ever helming franchise IP (“Creed” and “Black Panther”) and a biographical debut (“Fruitvale Station”), perhaps that’s why “Sinners” feels like sensory overload, for better and worse.

What’s unmistakable is how much of the supernatural period piece has Coogler’s name written all over it, especially in the scene above. In interviews leading up to the film’s April 18 release, Coogler mentioned that it serves as a love letter to his roots, both Oakland and Black America, but specifically his late Uncle James, a Mississippi man who loved the blues.

That framing became the basis for “Sinners,” a haunting, blues-laden, genre-bending vampire flick starring Coogler’s longtime collaborator Jordan as twin gangsters who return to the Delta hoping for a fresh start. But the sinister pair soon learn all homecomings aren’t welcome, and digging into a sinner’s past comes with a hefty price, especially when the devil himself shows up.

In many ways, “Sinners” represents a part of Coogler that we haven’t yet been exposed to. Outside of a few tiny West Coast references from the proud Oakland native, the director’s latest work pulls artistic inspiration from many a place you’d probably never expect, from “Puss in Boots: The Last Wish” (which influenced Jack O’Connell’s red-eyed vampire villain, Remmick) to Metallica’s 1988 anti-war song “One” (“I wanted the movie to feel like a song,” Coogler told the San Francisco Chronicle) to Rod Serling’s “The Twilight Zone” and Stephen King’s horror novel “Salem’s Lot” (this reference is actually spot-on with the plot of “Sinners”).

All these far-out tidbits in “Sinners,” as unrelated as some may seem, help reveal what was on Coogler’s mind when he molded this pulsing tale. Evidently, it was a lot.

That’s what makes “Sinners” such a mesmerizing watch and, also, a bit of a whirlwind to follow.

The IMAX-shot movie starts where it ends, with Sammie bursting into his father’s church a bloodied, scratched-up mess, still clutching the broken neck of his guitar after a long night of tangling with the devil (aka Remmick). From there, the story takes us back to one day earlier in 1932, in Clarksdale, Mississippi, to piece together what now has him seeking salvation.

Enter Jordan’s criminal duo, the infamous Smoke and Stack twins.

The Windy City has just blown them back into town to open their blues club, bought from a racist white man, after surviving World War I combat and Chicago gangland. But the new hustle is a tough sell for the reluctant old friends the twins recruit for opening night. There’s local grocery owners Grace (Li Jun Li) and Bo Chow (Yao) serving drinks, hoodoo conjurer and healer Annie (Wunmi Mosaku, in a powerful performance) frying up fish, sharecropper Cornbread (Omar Miller) on door duty, and drunken bluesman Delta Slim (played by the remarkable Delroy Lindo) and cousin Sammie providing the tunes.

Elsewhere, there’s Pearline (Jayme Lawson), the married, blues-singing temptress who finds her escape in Sammie and the club, and Mary (Hailee Steinfeld), Stack’s bitter blast-from-the-past who resurfaces to pick up where they left off years ago.

Coogler devotes a great deal of time to this immersive world-building before “Sinners” even hints at the action it so carefully concealed when the genre film was first announced. We learn about the disparate personalities of Smoke and Stack, thanks to Jordan’s dual performance, as well as the history between their past loves. While Stack and Mary have a more contentious reunion at the train station, Smoke and Annie, after brushing off some tension, fall into each other just like old times — this being one of a few horny encounters that spice up Coogler’s steamy movie.

Even Delta Slim has chilling stories that remind you of the oppressive racism that looms over the town, which Coogler depicts only through sound to spare us another visual of racial violence. Those undertones later summon the great evil that wreaks havoc on the townsfolk. That’s where the club comes back into play: It’s a safe haven for the Black folks of Clarksdale to commune, unwind and leave their troubles at the door. Little do they know that’s where trouble will come knocking.

The first half of “Sinners” is rich with these weighted references to kinship, the power of music, America’s racist history, and the need to carve out spaces for Black pride and freedom, although some are more fleshed out than others. Still, these parts I appreciated most, as this intimate, character-driven storytelling is where Coogler excels.

That said, when it was revealed that his latest project would be a Southern vampire thriller, I was curious to see whether the visionary behind the vibrant “Black Panther” pictures would approach this mythology with the same ingenuity he’s brought to previous works. He doesn’t reinvent the wheel here.

In “Sinners,” Coogler generally sticks to the fundamental tropes of vampire lore: wooden stakes through the heart, garlic cloves as repellent, the sun’s burning power and holy water. These elements don’t come into play until after Smoke, Stack and the others realize something strange is lurking beyond the shadows of the club. And when a violent attack hits some of their own, they arm themselves for the fight of their lives.

It’s about an hour into the film when O’Connell’s Remmick finally makes his entrance, kicking off his reign of terror at the club — but not before claiming his first victims, a white farm couple down the road. His syrupy Southern charm rattles the group when he and his followers arrive asking for an invitation inside, drawn there by Sammie’s sweet singing. I assume their insistence on sharing fellowship is meant to be a pointed visualization of whiteness crassly invading spaces reserved for people of color.

“Sinners” works when it connects these subtle dots that don’t detract from the on-screen action, but it makes for clunky storytelling the rest of the way when it leaves specific plot points unanswered.

That brings me to the film’s final moments, which I won’t spoil entirely, although I’m not sure they’d make sense if I did. The bloody showdown on the club grounds doesn’t have a triumphant ending where the group drives all the vampires away. Quite the opposite, actually, although what happens to the white man who sold the twins their club is a rather satisfying outcome — cue Jordan’s hero moment. There’s also a cliffhanger surrounding the fate of the twins that a mid-credits scene later brings full circle. Same with Sammie after he rides off into the sun, not willing to abandon the musician dreams his father warned him about.

It’s hard to feel fully satisfied with the film’s neat conclusions after the second half spins so wildly out of control. It’s like being on a roller coaster that suddenly slams to a halt — and you’re left dazed, unsure of what just happened. I’m not even sure “Sinners” was aiming for a clear, grounded ending. Maybe that was too big an ask from a film this sprawling. It’s juggling so many big themes — racism, myths, liberation, history — that don’t always land as powerfully as they’re meant to.

What is clear is that Coogler wanted to make a landmark horror movie that would leave an indelible mark on viewers’ minds, like those of Jordan Peele and of Stanley Kubrick’s “The Shining.” “Sinners” is his attempt to create his own socially charged marvel that unpacks the terrors of real American history against a gory vampire backdrop.

But the problem is the film says so much — and often too much — at once, it’s nearly impossible for the complex, excess narratives to land the way they’re intended to.

I’m reluctant to call “Sinners” a Coogler masterpiece, as some early reviews have. The film is a solid effort in moviemaking, and even better when it delves deep into its 20th-century Southern scene-setting — it didn’t necessarily need vampires to crowd the mix. But the visual experience alone is still something to behold.

Now that Coogler has gotten quite a few things off his chest, maybe he’ll return with a punchier film that doesn’t bite off more than it can chew.

“Sinners” is now playing in theaters.

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