A ‘summer blockbuster’, ‘pulpily’ enjoyable

Sinners. It's a shame if that disconnect holds true, because the Oscar-bait-heavy storytelling of African-American stories cannot be the only avenue of stories. It has the space and potential to be political, to be historically accurate, and, yet, loose in its fictionalization that vampires can exist simultaneously with the Ku Klux Klan.

By Amartya Acharya

I do think it is interesting how much the film's marketing focused on the vampire aspect, the visceral violence, the shootouts, the twins, and the music, but most importantly, the vampires. Because that is the North Star in terms of how pulp could be marketed.

Sinners' refusal to fit neatly into a single genre is less a critique and more a heartfelt acclaim. It is supernatural horror by way of vampires, but it is more importantly mythologizing of Black history, a detailed and sensual outlook via historical fiction. Most importantly, it is an ode to the blues and the myths stemming from that music genre.

Similar to how ‘blues’ cannot be boxed into a genre but can be identified based on singular elements—call and response, twelve-bar blues, the groove—so is this film. However, it's also essential to note how blues becomes ubiquitous within other umbrella genres like jazz, rock and roll, and reggae. It is fascinating how much the cultural assimilation of blues is as much a representation of music history, as it is anthropological, cultural history.

This cultural assimilation of blues is the bedrock of this film, the artistic expression of the African-American culture represented via the creation of the Juke Club, formed by Smoke and Stack (both played by Michael B. Jordan). But, of course, their trump card is Sammy, their cousin and the preacher boy, a prodigious talent on the guitar that causes his conservative preacher father to warn him about the devil's music. 

The salient feature of this film is how much it represents the communal aspect of African-American culture; the detailing of the 1930s deep south nestled within the rhythm of the Clarksdale Blues. This is where African Americans and Asian Americans shared space and bonded, where the stories of the spirituals, the plantation workers, the gangsters escaping from their urban yoke and returning to their hometown, the religious intonations, and the romantic aspect resulting from confluence, create a form of harmoniousness. 

It's ironic because to reach harmoniousness, the film becomes intentionally messy. The presence of the vampires becomes less ubiquitous, more conflated within its metaphorical and mythological conception—they are bloodsuckers simply after prey, but they are also after the music and Sammy's talent, his power to connect and pierce the veils between past and present.

It is extraordinary because it feels like the hand of an auteur telling a personal work; but it is also novelistic enough that it risks disconnecting an audience purely after the pulp, and not interested in the cultural representation explored here.

It's a shame if that disconnect holds true, because the Oscar-bait-heavy storytelling of African-American stories cannot be the only avenue of stories. It has the space and potential to be political, to be historically accurate, and, yet, loose in its fictionalization that vampires can exist simultaneously with the Ku Klux Klan. It does mean that the horror or action-heavy visceral bloodletting part of Sinners occurs post the first act, but taking that as the central criticism takes away from the sheer ballsy ambition of the storytelling.

Coogler's encapsulation of his ambition is best represented by that singular sequence at the midpoint of the film, where Sammy's dulcet tones pierce the veils, connecting musical acts from the past, present, and future to exist in a singular time and space. It is perhaps no wonder that the power of music to break through space and time is one that is best felt, rather than given words and voiced out, because that reveals the underlying silliness of the entire endeavour.

Coogler does the latter in the second act far more than the former, which is perhaps why, as focus on the ‘plot’ becomes paramount, the movie threatens to lose its way.

However, it is held together by Coogler's maverick direction, the sheer muscular score of Ludwig Gorranson, the performances of Jordan, Steinfeld, Catton, Lindo, and a gifted cast. More importantly, by an auteurist conviction of Coogler in his own blockbuster filmmaking prowess -- and the belief of a ‘summer blockbuster’ to be about something culturally profound, while also being ‘pulpily’ enjoyable.

Sinners is messy and flawed, but it is also one of the more enjoyable films I have seen this year. If you are a music fan, you must definitely see this.

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Amartya Acharya is a film critic and film scholar based in Alipurdwar, West Bengal.

A reluctant Engineer from the town of Jalpaiguri, nestled in North Bengal, he became a scientist. Inwardly a cinephile, an armour of film critic hiding the romantic expectations of good stories in every form of media consumption.