Sinners

REVIEW:

It feels like Sinners is the movie that everyone is talking about right now—and for good reason. Ryan Coogler’s latest directorial outing is an ambitious blend of Southern Gothic horror, blues-infused mythology, and a period character drama that thrives on atmosphere and tension. This is a film that demands your full attention and absolutely rewards it. I highly recommend you watch this movie on the biggest screen possible—every detail, every sound, every shiver is meant to be experienced on a scale that does justice to its immense craft.

The first thing to mention is that music plays an integral part in the DNA of this movie. Ludwig Göransson, Coogler’s long-time collaborator, composes a hauntingly beautiful soundtrack that merges blues with traditional Irish folk music, grounding the film in the era while simultaneously imbuing it with otherworldly energy. The movie opens with a voiceover explaining how, historically, certain musicians—from West African griots to American bluesmen—have been viewed as spiritual conduits between this world and the next. It’s a bold and poetic way to usher in the supernatural themes, and it works brilliantly. The film isn’t just about music—it is music, layered, emotional, and steeped in history.

One of the more ambitious scenes in the film involves Sammie (Miles Caton), a young guitarist playing in a smoky 1930s Mississippi juke joint. As he plays a melancholic blues tune, the world around him begins to morph—people from different time periods start appearing, dancing and vibing to the music. Geishas, DJs, tribal drummers, breakdancers—it’s a stunning and surreal sequence. Now, here’s where I might differ from some viewers: while the idea was clever, the inclusion of modern elements (trainers, headphones, smartphones) amid such a lovingly crafted period setting felt a bit jarring to me. It momentarily broke the immersion. That said, I understand the thematic intention, and this minor issue didn’t derail my overall experience.

The production design deserves a shout-out on its own. The film paints a vivid picture of 1930s Mississippi, with mud-caked roads, rustic shacks, jazz-soaked bars, and era-authentic vehicles and props. You can tell there was a genuine respect for historical accuracy, and it helps anchor the film’s more fantastical elements in something tangible and lived-in. Costume designer Ruth E. Carter also does phenomenal work—each character feels pulled from a faded photograph, yet alive with personality and intent.

Performance-wise, this film knocks it out of the park. Miles Caton, in his very first acting role, is magnetic. There’s something incredibly raw and authentic about his portrayal of Sammie—wide-eyed, soulful, and tragic. I’d be shocked if this isn’t the start of a long and varied career for him. Michael B. Jordan, playing the twin brothers Stack and Smoke, is a powerhouse. He gives two very different performances here — the contrast he brings to these roles is proof of just how much range he actually has.

One important thing to note: if you’re going into Sinners expecting a fast-paced horror flick, adjust your expectations. Coogler has openly mentioned From Dusk Till Dawn as a major influence, and that DNA is all over this. The first hour and change plays out as a slow-burn character study, weaving backstories and motivations into a rich, textured narrative. It’s not until about the 80-minute mark that the horror fully kicks in—but when it does, it’s worth the wait. The shift is dramatic, intense, and executed with ferocity. Vampires descend, blood spills, and the film transforms into a blood-soaked fever dream.

Jack O’Connell’s turn as Remmick, the lead vampire, is the kind of performance that sticks with you. He doesn’t rely on prosthetics or over-the-top effects—instead, it’s the cold menace in his eyes, the way he moves, the sense of ancient hunger behind every word. He plays it with a quiet, seething intensity that makes him genuinely terrifying. The horror sequences are visceral and brutal, but never gratuitous—they serve the story and the characters, and that’s what makes them hit harder.

And one last thing: do not leave your seat when the credits roll. There’s a mid-credit scene that’s absolutely incredible—it delivers a crucial answer to a burning question that had been simmering when the movie ends. Honestly, if it had gone unanswered, I would’ve left the cinema frustrated, but thankfully, Coogler doesn’t leave us hanging. It’s a satisfying payoff that ties up a loose end in a really clever way. Sinners feels like the kind of film that could become a cult classic within a year—layered, bold, and unafraid to take creative risks. It won’t be for everyone, but for those who get on its wavelength, it’s an unforgettable ride.