Sinners takes vampirism to the Deep South

Zombie films seem to have been all the rage the last decade or so. The popularity of The Walking Dead has led us to embrace the post-apocalyptic universe in the entertainment world and question our own survival skills. As I discovered on a trip to the bookstore during Covid, much in the world of fiction, whether in novel or screenplay form, imagines a dystopia as opposed to the contemporary, somewhat functional society. Even stories such as The Handmaid’s Tale, the Hunger Games trilogy, or the Mad Max franchise exist as zombie movie fill-ins, with people acting as blood-thirsty monsters without a conscience just the same. These stories can be thrilling and reveal the character of its survivors amidst their difficult decision-making, but as far as monster movies go, they represent a bleaker reality than, say, vampire movies.

Over the holiday season, I went to see Robert Eggers’s rendition of Nosferatu with my father. As we left the theater, he mentioned that though he enjoyed it, he was expecting it to deviate from the original a little more than it did. Having not seen the original, I went into it with very little expectation but enjoyed the traditionalist feel that it presented. My association with vampire movies leaned more in the modern, fast-paced action category, which is to say, Buffy, Blade, and Underworld. The great thing about a fantastical sub-genre like vampire movies is the ability to place it in both real and surreal universes, as most of us are familiar enough with the concept of vampires to buy into them. Ryan Coogler’s new hit, Sinners, takes vampirism to a world we all know but have not seen vampires represented in: Jim Crow in the Deep South.

Set in the 1930’s, Sinners kicks off with twin brothers Smoke and Stack (Michael B. Jordan) returning to their home state of Mississippi after spending a few years in Chicago. Happy to be home, they buy an abandoned farmhouse with the plan to run a juke joint and host a grand opening. After closing the deal, they head into town to reunite with their cousin Sammie, a talented musician, and spread the word about their opening. Once the evening falls and everyone shows up for a good time, three strangers arrive with their instruments and Irish folk tunes in hopes of joining the festivities, but something seems off about them. After Smoke and Stack turn them away, Stack’s old flame Mary (Hailee Steinfeld), starts after them to play peacemaker. This gesture proves to be a mistake and sets off a chain of violent supernatural events no one saw coming at the beginning of the night.

The brilliance of Sinners is its multi-faceted nature. Rather than immediately jump into vampirism, it sets up a compelling story that can exist independent of its supernatural elements. The first half of the film delves into the pasts and desires of its main characters in relation to music and business. Smoke and Stack have had their fill of the North and have returned to their roots to run a successful establishment. Although they do not necessarily want to revisit their young and immature ways, they need the support of their chums from the past. Sammie has a deep passion for blues guitar and a captivating singing voice, but his father Jedidiah believes his musical exploits to be the work of the devil. Delroy Lindo plays Delta Slim, an alcoholic musician who jumps at the opportunity to participate in Smoke and Stack’s grand opening. He fears that he doesn’t have very many of such experiences left in his future. These various storylines and motivations combine for an enjoyable party scene before the crap hits the fan. In a way, the gathering is reminiscent of teen party comedies such as House Party, Animal House and Project X, but with a more earnest and soulful intention behind it. The characters escape from the pressures of life expectations and the dangers of being Black in the Jim Crow South, even if just for a few hours.

While Sinners deviates from other vampire movies in certain respects, it maintains plenty of vampire folklore. For instance, there are a couple of intense standoffs at the entrance to the farmhouse when those who have been infected ask to come in, a request vampires must make before entering. Just the same, the vampires have superhuman strength, become excited by the sight of blood, and perish in the daylight. Maybe most significant to the atmosphere of the movie is their abilities of hypnotism and seduction. The film has its fair share of promiscuity before vampires ever enter the equation, as Smoke, Stack, and Jedidiah all engage in sexual acts in the first half of the movie. But the addition of vampirism to the story only heightens the sexual tension between the characters, many of whom are engaging in either infidelity or miscegenation, an unlawful act during the Jim Crow era.

Most impressive about Sinners is its ability to weave in elements of history amidst the fiction and supernaturalism. Frequently throughout U.S. history, prosperous Black communities were viewed as a threat and were ravaged by White out-of-towners, burned down to smoldering remains. Neighborhoods in Rosewood, Tulsa, Harlem and many others suffered this fate. The film hints at these massacres with its imagery in the third act. Additionally, blues music has been subject to cultural appropriation, often being stolen from its founders or repurposed with no attribution. The antagonists in Sinners make the same effort, which Ryan Coogler captures in an opening scene filled with symbolism as Sammie limps back into town with mere shards of his guitar. Moreover, the film alludes to racism that Black people faced when they sought to travel north. Smoke comments early in the film, “Chicago ain’t nothin’ but Mississippi with tall buildings instead of plantations.” This statement alludes to the fact that while the economy in northern cities was more industrial than agrarian, the bigoted mindset and discrimination remained intact. Finally, two of Smoke and Stack’s friends include a Chinese-American couple with their own store in town who join the party. The vampires threaten to raid the store and harm their children, alluding to the threats that many Asian-American immigrants also suffered at the time.

All in all, Sinners stays true to much of the folklore surrounding vampires, appealing to fans of the sub-genre itself. However, it strategically places new elements around the vampirism: a predominantly Black cast, the backdrop of 1930s Mississippi, and the infusion of blues music. It blends genres like comedy, action, historical fiction, and even the “teen partying” into the story. The film’s multifaceted nature allows viewers to catch something different when watching a second or third time, while not being too preachy or on-the-nose with the social issues it broaches. The genre blend makes it difficult to provide a comparable film, so I will instead say Sinners is True Blood meets Mississippi Burning with just the right amount of Mo’ Betta Blues. Hopefully, when you check it out, it makes more sense than whatever I just said.