Blues, Blood, and Bondage

Ryan Coogler’s ambitious new film, “Sinners”, plunges into the heart of the sweltering Mississippi Delta during the Jim Crow era, weaving a visceral tapestry of historical trauma, the soul-stirring power of the Blues, and a supernatural horror that feeds on more than just blood. Released (or slated for release in 2025), the film, starring Michael B. Jordan in a compelling dual role, is a genre-bending exploration of Black struggle and resilience, where the vampiric threat becomes a potent metaphor for the insidious nature of racism and exploitation.

Set primarily over a tense 24-hour period in 1932 in Clarksdale, Mississippi, a town steeped in the mythology of the Blues, most notably the legend of Robert Johnson selling his soul at the crossroads, “Sinners” doesn’t feature Johnson as a character. However, his spectral presence and the Faustian bargains associated with the “devil’s music” hang heavy in the humid Mississippi air. The narrative focuses on twin brothers Smoke and Stack Moore (both portrayed by Jordan), who return from Chicago to their hometown. With money of questionable origin, they aim to establish a juke joint, a sanctuary of Black joy and cultural expression in a landscape defined by brutal segregation and the looming terror of the Ku Klux Klan.

Their musically gifted young cousin, Sammie “Preacher Boy” Moore (Miles Caton), a guitarist and singer, becomes a focal point, his powerful performances seemingly a beacon for forces both celebratory and sinister. As if the ever-present threat of the KKK isn’t enough, Sammie’s music appears to summon a coven of white vampires, led by the menacing Irish immigrant vampire, Remmick (Jack O’Connell).

 

The Blues as a Wellspring of Power and Peril

“Sinners” excels in its portrayal of Blues music not merely as a soundtrack but as a vital lifeblood of the oppressed community and a conduit for both profound spiritual expression and a dangerous, otherworldly power. The film taps into the deep historical and cultural roots of the Blues, born from the crucible of Black suffering and creativity in the American South. Coogler, working with composer Ludwig Göransson (composer of the famed soundtrack of Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer, who reportedly delved into the works of Robert and Tommy Johnson), attempts to capture the raw, soul-baring essence of the music. The juke joint itself is envisioned as a rare space of freedom and escape, where the music offers solace and a vibrant assertion of identity.

However, the film also leans into the age-old suspicion that surrounded the Blues—the notion of it being the “devil’s music.” This theme is inextricably linked to the legend of Robert Johnson, whose preternatural talent was mythically attributed to a pact with dark forces. In “Sinners”, this idea is lateralised through the arrival of the vampires, drawn by the potency of the music. The film suggests that the same creative energy that empowers and unites can also pierce the veil between worlds, inviting unforeseen dangers.

 

 

Racism: The Unseen and Fanged Monster

Coogler uses the vampire genre, much in the vein of Jordan Peele’s socially conscious horror, to dissect the multifaceted nature of racism. The vampires in “Sinners” are not just a physical threat; they embody a parasitic force that mirrors the historical exploitation of Black people. The film draws a chilling parallel between the blood-sucking fiends and the systemic oppression of the Jim Crow South. Intriguingly, the lead vampire, Remmick, is an Irishman, a character who was once oppressed and now, as an immortal, becomes an oppressor himself. This adds a layer of complexity to the vampire-as-racist-metaphor, suggesting a cycle of power and subjugation. The vampires even offer a twisted “salvation”—an escape from poverty and racism in exchange for eternal servitude, a demonic perversion of the promises of equality and freedom.

The film provocatively posits that the overt, hooded racism of the KKK might be rivalled, or even surpassed in its insidious evil, by the seductive yet damning offer of the vampires. Lines like the twins describing Chicago as “a plantation, just taller buildings” underscore the pervasive and adaptable nature of racial prejudice.

 

Robert Johnson’s Mythic Shadow

While Robert Johnson remains an off-screen legend, his mythos is the bedrock upon which “Sinners” builds much of its thematic weight. The idea of a musician attaining extraordinary talent through a supernatural pact resonates throughout Sammie’s storyline and the film’s exploration of the “gift” of music that can “conjure spirits from the past and future.” The film doesn’t shy away from the allure and danger inherent in such legends, using it to explore themes of sacrifice, exploitation, and the price of artistic genius in a world designed to crush Black aspiration.

 

 

A “Genre-Fluid” Feast with Potential Pitfalls

“Sinners” is described by Coogler as “genre-fluid”, blending historical drama, supernatural horror, musical, and cultural epic. This ambition is both its strength and, according to some early reactions, a potential weakness. The film reportedly attempts to weave in elements of Hoodoo (with consultants involved to ensure a respectful portrayal) and the broader spiritual practices of enslaved African Americans, adding further layers to its supernatural framework.
Visually, with cinematography by Autumn Durald Arkapaw and production design by Hannah Beachler (both “Black Panther” collaborators), “Sinners” aims for an immersive and authentic depiction of 1930s Mississippi, juxtaposed with visceral horror elements. Michael B. Jordan’s dual performance has been highlighted, tasked with embodying two distinct individuals at the heart of the turmoil.

Early critical reception has been polarised. Some hail “Sinners” as a “cultural phenomenon” and a “masterpiece”, praising its ambition, thematic depth, and powerful performances. Others have been more critical, with reviewers like Armond White (National Review, Out) decrying it as “horror-movie trash” that trivialises complex historical and cultural themes through “mildly obscene fake-lore”. Concerns have been raised about whether the blending of so many elements ultimately serves or muddles its potent central ideas. The fact that it adds these aspects to the narrative in such a sleek, entertaining fashion invariably pushes audiences to dig into the dark core of American history.

 

To wrap it all up

“Sinners” appears to be a daring and provocative film that leverages the primal power of Blues music and the chilling allure of vampire folklore to confront the enduring horrors of systemic racism in America. Its connection to the legacy of Robert Johnson, though indirect, provides a rich thematic undercurrent, exploring the sacrifices, myths, and dangers tied to Black artistic expression in an oppressive society. Whether the film fully succeeds in its ambitious genre-bending and thematic explorations will likely be a subject of ongoing debate. However, its willingness to bite into the arteries of such weighty topics through a unique and unsettling lens makes it a significant cinematic event. “Sinners” promises a viewing experience that is at once a historical reckoning, a fierce supernatural thriller, and a complicated love letter to the Blues, forcing audiences to consider the monstrous forms that exploitation and prejudice can take, both human or otherwise.