Sinners: A Radical Melting Pot of Genres

Preacher Boy's father gave him a warning before he stepped out into the hot Mississippi sun to ride along to a party with his older cousins, a pair of twin Chicago gangsters ever-so-subtly named Smoke and Stack: If you keep dancing with the devil, one day he's going to follow you home. As a lifelong Christian who's struggled heavily with his flesh in the past, dancing with the devil is one dangerous thing to do. How much more so when vampires are involved? I've been told I've seen more than most my age, but I can't say I've ever borne witness to someone sucking the blood of a fellow human being, something that Smoke, Stack, and Preacher Boy are going to see plenty of before the night is through. Sinners is an inspired period piece unlike any other I've seen before, an unusually complete blend of the arts that I would go so far as to call a celebration of culture. It's both a smartly startling horror movie that made me jump more than once and a satisfying gangster film, an exploitation of the Great Depression reminiscent of the neo-western handiwork of the Coen Brothers. And while its inspirations will be apparently traceable to some with a higher-than-average knowledge of cinematic history, it blends all of these familiar ingredients to create something that feels genuinely visionary. For Sinners, mere horror isn't enough. But centuries-old Irish vampires accosting a Juke Joint of the local black population to the tune of machine guns, fire tornadoes, and groovy Irish folk music? That's more like it.

Sinners identifies a grungy and classical tone in both how it looks and sounds, recklessly committing to it in every conceivable way. It's an unusually respectful and endlessly groovy blend of both black and white cultures, and it works because it treats everything it deems to throw on the screen with heartfelt love. When it sets its sights on the backwater scenery of the Deep South in the 1930s, Sinners isn't looking down, and when it makes music, you can almost sense the editors and technical leads bobbing their heads along to it with you. As for the Smokestack Brothers, seeing Michael B. Jordan play two characters at once is a fun and engaging gimmick. His (their?) swagger is undeniable, and to put it in simple terms, the twins are cool, even if Sinners casts no shadow of doubt on the fact that they're terrible people. They're a bright pinpoint of confidence in a culture where people like them have been taught to be subservient their whole lives, ever-cocky and endlessly self-assured to a magnetic fault.

Anyone familiar with the promotional material for Sinners knows that it shifts gears from cool to creepy, but mark my words: that won't make the actual tonal shift any less insane upon arrival. The showmanship of this movie is impressive to the point where it sometimes feels as if it's showing off, and its style remains intoxicating throughout a story that is familiar on its own merits. Speaking of merits, Sinners can be pretty frightening when it wants to be. I jumped more than once while watching it, and you will too. If Nosferatu casts vampires as a threat more sensed than seen, Sinners excels at creating doubt instead. The vampires in this movie aren't obvious until they want to be; by then, it's usually too late. And when they desire to be seen, chances are they're dancing and singing; you see, the music of Sinners is in a league of its own. It's a head-bobbing, toe-tapping good time, not unlike a Southern Mississippi church gone sour on Sunday morning.

Despite all of these strengths, my favorite thing about Sinners has to be its thoughtfulness. It's far more measured than I expected, distancing itself from the one-dimensional white bad statements that a lot of modern movies touching on race relations make. I'd go so far as to call it a celebration of culture, and when I say that, I mean a celebration of both black and white cultures, too. In fact, one of the most show-stopping moments in the entire film features a group of vampires dancing an Irish jig out in the dark, and whatever some might say about a vampire hive mind, I plead the artistic intent of the filmmakers. Sinners is never culturally warmongering, perfectly content to be something else entirely: sincerely and refreshingly groovy. It's almost as if it's saying why argue when you can dance instead? Before dragging another poor soul into the dark to be feasted upon by vampires, that is.

While I wasn't able to catch Sinners in theaters, late is better than never - emphasis on the better. Sinners is pureblood cinema, yet somehow also pays endless homage to the history of art, whether that art be film or music. It's a soulful, startling, even heartfelt horror film unlike any other I've ever seen, a mostly single-location but completely blood-soaked extravaganza of blues and danger. Rarely have I seen a blockbuster so inspired and visionary as this one, and it makes me hopeful that original movies can succeed at the box office, especially when they're as good as Sinners turned out to be. This movie excited me. It made me want to sing. It made me want to dance. And last of all, it commits very few cinematic sins, not that I wouldn't have forgiven a movie this visionary for a few more.

Sinners - 9/10

1 Timothy 4:1-4