"Sinners" - Cultural Assimilation and the Fight For Individuality

[very minor spoilers ahead]

This week, Ryan Coogler of Black Panther fame made waves with his new movie, Sinners, starring frequent collaborator Michael B. Jordan. Not only has the movie been met with rapturous acclaim in the brief time since its release, but it recently earned the title of the highest grossing original picture of the decade so far. Being a deep-south depression era film about...vampires, Sinners is a success story that nobody saw coming despite its budget and star-power. So what it is exactly that makes Sinners such a triumph? Let me tell you, as someone who's already seen it three separate times.

From the moment that the very first display of vultures appears above Clarkson, Mississippi skyline, it is abundantly clear where Ryan Coogler stands in regards to the seizing and erasure of countless cultures - not just his own; in the name of the collective. Vultures are a key visual centerpoint to Sinners, but they are far from the most prominent. It is astoundingly difficult to try and write about a film like this succinctly because the sheer level of thematic, genre-bending maximalism that Sinners operates on is beyond anything we’ve experienced since Jordan Peele’s Nope in 2022. 

No matter what way you slice it, vampires themselves are an entity that we’ve seemingly exhausted every new way to portray. The seduction, temptation, and taboo sexuality surrounding their allure is an unavoidable talking point. But as Ryan Coogler masterfully reminds us, it’s not the genre or the gimmick of a film that matters; it’s the voices behind it. 

If you’re ever looking for any evidence as to whether film is superior to digital, look no further than Sinners. To say that you’re doing yourself a disservice seeing this film on a non-IMAX screen would be an understatement. The level of depth in every image of the film feels almost otherworldly. Beyond thematic reasons, the emphasis DP, Autumn Durald Arkapaw gives to physical light even in the most dimly lit of moments is an exceptional achievement. Paired with some of the most innovative editing and pacing of the modern era, the film functions as a feast for the eyes that gives even the most titanically lit films of the Technicolor era a run for their money. 

Composer Ludwig Göransson outdoes himself with a score that resurrects the past, respects the present, and gleefully welcomes the future of every conceivable era and genre of music. The fusion of folk, soul, blues, hip-hop, classical, funk, pop, rock, synthetic, R&B, and nearly every other subgenre you can imagine is truly unlike anything these ears have heard. There is no logical reason as to why it works as well as it does, but thankfully logic is one of many direct antitheses to artistic expression, so you needn’t worry. 

Each central performance injects a level of soul, pain, culture, and personality unheard of in a modern blockbuster. The genre aspect which is one of the key marketing draws here, does not even get introduced until near the one-hour mark simply because everything before it functions so seamlessly as a deep-rooted haunting character drama. Michael B. Jordan brings such beautiful visual distinguishers to both of his characters, and beside him, Hailee Steinfeld, Delroy Lindo, Wunmi Mosaku, Jayme Lawson, Jack O’Connell, and Li Jun Li are equal forces of nature. An ending cameo made by Chicago Blues legend Buddy Guy functions as the ultimate cherry on top of the most decadent cake; but at the center of all of the mechanics of this film is future all-time star Miles Caton. His character, Preacher Boy functions as the catalyst for every single one of the central statements surrounding Sinners, of which there are many. 

It’s easy to forget how barbaric of a species we can be. In our endless, incessant need for glory, we trample over anyone in our way. Whether through nationalism, genuine hatred, dangerous narcissism, or blind ignorance, we force all others to either assimilate or be erased. Of course, Black culture in the Deep South Jim Crow era is the center point of Sinners, but on the outskirts, we see brief glimpses into the experiences of many other marginalized groups and cultures of the era. It’s no small detail that Jack O’Connell’s lead vampire character, Remmick, has Irish roots. Whether at the time your culture was Black, Irish, Polish, Italian, Chinese or nearly any other, the time always came for yours to be the one at the very bottom of the segregation chain. However, once worked past, and the next culture followed behind, the temptation to simply fall back into the cycle of hatred and discrimination often proved too strong. After all, you were forced to give up your culture. Why shouldn’t everyone else? We’ve been repeating this horrific, self-sabotaging cycle for centuries, to the point now where staunch protectors of sacred cultures are continuously bulldozed, resulting in the hope of a future genuine melting pot utopia, slipping away by the day. If we can’t own, or claim something as ours, it has to die.

Even still, by the time we recognize our own role in the victim-to-aggressor pipeline, we hardly ever allow ourselves to journey down a redemptive path. The less grace we give ourselves, the more we doom others who come after us into falling into the same cycle. Whether through a misinterpretation or poor implementation of faith, artistic expression, or simple blind jealousy we inadvertently weaponize our lived experience to tarnish another.

What moved me the most about Sinners beyond all of these things, was its exploration of the true power of individuality, and how it can impact all aspects in which we live, and especially, the way we grieve. Ryan Coogler has been very vocal about how the death of Chadwick Boseman impacted him, and those in his circle. His exploration of this grief through the lens of Black Panther: Wakanda Forever felt so fresh and gave that film one of the most impactful conclusions in the entire MCU, and here, he explores a completely different side to these feelings; a side I have rarely, if ever seen a film explore before. 

The prologue of the film talks of people that are so gifted at the arts, that they can transcend the soul plane, and connect those around them with loved ones of the past and future. Every culture throughout time has had different names to describe these people, but the definition has always been the same. All too often, these people leave us well before they should be called to. It is for these people we carry on. We continue to create, love, and live in the ways they did in an effort to keep them with us and inspire those around us in the way we know they would have continued to. But it’s in these moments we’re tested the most. From forces both internal and external, the ever-creeping feeling that we’ll never make those that have left us proud, or live up to whatever false expectations we’ve set for ourselves is ever-present. The temptation to give in to those voices, and assimilate to mundane collectivism for the sake of a false sense of peace or security is never louder than in these moments. But it’s our continuous, conscious decision to refuse these temptations that keep hope, culture, and creativity alive in our world. 

Everyone is rightfully discussing the dance scene that occurs in the barn around the halfway mark of the film because it is one of the most ethereal images to ever grace the silver screen. But the musical, and visual motif that has stuck with me the most, is the continued re-incorporation of the traditional bible lullaby, “This Little Light of Mine.” After hearing it several times in the film, the final image of the post-credits scene is a flashback to before any of the major events of the film occurred and depicts Caton’s Preacher Boy singing his own rendition of the song on his guitar. I can’t think of a more defining moment. If nothing else, as every man, woman, and (hopefully older) child experiences Sinners for themselves, I pray it reminds them of the little lights they all carry and the power they all have in letting them shine.