The devil went down to … Mississippi and did a—jig?
That’s right—and it was awesome.
“Sinners” reminds me of 1996’s “From Dusk till Dawn,” where George Clooney and Quentin Tarantino play brothers stuck in a Mexican saloon with deadly vampires—except this battle takes place in a 1930s juke joint in the American South, and both brothers are played by Michael B. Jordan.
It seems “Sinners” director Ryan Coogler can’t get enough of Jordan. Each of the five films he’s directed since 2013 star Jordan, including “Creed” and “Black Panther.” With “Sinners,” Coogler gets a double dose of his muse, casting Jordan as twin brothers Smoke and Stack, who move back home to the Mississippi Delta with a surprising amount of cash and a plan to immediately open an establishment for good music, food and drink in the Black community.
The story starts slow, with the brothers gradually tracking down the rest of the talented cast to assemble on the stage and dance floor. Jordan gives his usual steady performance as the identical siblings. Hailee Steinfeld plays a former love interest named Mary, though I wish there was more of her in the story, especially when things get scary. Wunmi Mosaku is terrific as the other brother’s love interest, portraying the strong, voodoo-loving Annie, who provides the necessary explanations about the evil that shows up.
But it’s the music performed on the joint’s stage that sets the tone for this unique addition to the genre. The opening of the film lays out the folklore around the rare musician whose talent has the power to connect the world of the living with that of the dead and worlds yet to be.
That’s the case for the twins’ mystical musician cousin Sammie (Miles Caton). When Sammie finally steps on the stage with his guitar and raises his voice to the heavens, Hell spits out its demons.
The bloodsucking Remmick (Jack O’Connell) shows up looking for Sammie, and the film’s pace doesn’t let up from there. O’Connell is amazing as a monster among men, able to lull the unsuspecting with simulated humanity and music, despite something not feeling right about him.
Remmick gives the terrified patrons an interesting pitch—suggesting that giving in to the immortality of becoming a vampire is the only way to exist freely in a racist world that doesn’t want them.
He arrives with some recent undead converts and performs some pretty amazing Irish tunes along the way, so he’s not your typical supernatural assassin. Sound silly? Maybe, but their fanged trio can really jam.
And it’s the music that fuels the movie to be something different than your typical vampire action flick. When Sammie sings the song he wrote for his preacher dad—his magic bridging past, present and future—those few minutes are as epic and memorable as any scene I’ve watched this year.
Turns out the blues can do more than get your foot tapping. “Sinners” sings straight from the heart—then drives a stake through it.
