Boardroom’s Michelai Graham examines key themes in Ryan Coogler’s SINNERS, a supernatural Southern tale that follows two brothers as they confront their past — and something far more sinister.
Ryan Coogler‘s period supernatural thriller SINNERS is a Southern gothic knockout with soul, sin, horror, and a haunting sense of history that lingers long after the screen fades to black.
I attended an advanced screening of the new film in NYC at a packed AMC Kips Bay theater. Saying Coogler delivered is an understatement.
He more than excelled. This is his first original film since stepping into the mainstream spotlight, and he returned to the writer-director’s chair with the type of intentionality and edge we’ve come to expect from him. SINNERS is deeply soulful, hauntingly poetic, and cinematically rich. I left the theater with as many — maybe even more — anxious feelings as I did in 2017 after seeing Jordan Peele’s GET OUT film.
Back to the Delta
Set in the early 1930s, SINNERS takes us deep into Mississippi, where the wages of sin weigh heavily on a Black community already burdened by history, circumstance, and silence. The story follows twin brothers, Smoke and Stack — both played masterfully by Michael B. Jordan in his first-ever dual role. Smoke is the grimmer, more serious counterpart, while Stack is the charismatic charmer of the pair. Costume designer Ruth E. Carter distinguishes the two by often draping Smoke in hues of blue and Stack in bold reds.

Aside from their wardrobes, one of the clearest differences between them is how they carry their pain, but even that line blurs in the best brotherly way. I might even argue that the brothers both fall on the bad boy spectrum, but I’ll leave that debate for another day.
The plot unfolds after the brothers return to their hometown in the Jim Crow-era South to open up a new business. After a string of events while they worked for Al Capone in Chicago — a city they hoped would be an escape — the brothers find themselves back in Mississippi, facing what they left behind and the darkness ahead. “Chicago ain’t nothing but Mississippi with tall buildings,” one brother said. The film is lush with symbolism, anchored by the spiritual and cultural weight of the blues. Coogler doesn’t just use blues music as background — it’s the heartbeat of the entire film and a spiritual thread that ties characters and generations together. Every scene feels like a verse in a song about pain, redemption, and the grit it takes to survive.
What struck me most was how well-written and visually layered SINNERS is. It’s Black Southern storytelling at its finest — gritty, graceful, and unafraid of complexity. It doesn’t spell everything out for you, but it leaves just enough to sit with. And in a time where spectacle often outweighs substance, SINNERS manages to be both.
I enjoyed that Coogler didn’t rush the horror, especially since we all know it’s coming. He lets the story simmer. We spend real time getting to know these characters, sitting in their world, feeling the tension in their relationships and the weight of their decisions. So, when the vampire element finally shows its teeth (literally), it doesn’t feel like a gimmick; it feels earned.
By that point, we care. We’re invested. The horror doesn’t just shock — it devastates because now the stakes feel personal.

Coogler’s continued collaboration with cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw (Black Panther: Wakanda Forever) shines once again in SINNERS. From the dusty blues of Mississippi mornings to the deep reds of vampire lore, Arkapaw’s lens captures the story’s soul with texture, tension, chilling slow motion, and wide tracking shots that often made me more nervous for the build-up.
And as expected, the juke joint moment is pure cinema. That extended tracking shot through the crowd, the way the camera moves like it’s dancing with the music; it’s a masterclass in visual storytelling. You can feel the heat, the sweat, the soul of the space. It’s electric just as much as it is eerie. Coogler turns a joyful Black space into a horrific turning point without losing any of its magic.
There’s something poetic about how the vampires in SINNERS operate — how they move, how they connect, how they choose each other. It gave me echoes of the Interview with the Vampire series, where vampirism is more about belonging and eternal companionship. It’s not just about bloodlust. It’s about identity and the power of being seen and accepted, even if it means losing your soul in the process.
Performance Check
Jordan shined in his roles, but strong performances also came from Hailee Steinfeld as Mary (True Grit, Dickinson), Li Jun Li as Grace (Wu Assassins, Babvlon, Quantico), Wunmi Mosaku as Annie (Lovecraft Country, Passenger), and Miles Caton, who is making his acting debut in the film as Sammie Moore aka Preacher Boy.
Sammie’s internal conflict was another layer that struck a chord with me. His journey — caught between obligation, ambition, and identity — is one so many Black people can relate to, even today. That feeling of wanting to rise, but being tethered to where you come from. That weight of family, legacy, and survival. Sammie wasn’t just a supporting character; he was the soul of the story. And Caton brought that internal battle to life with so much empathy, authenticity, and one hell of a singing voice.
Steinfeld did exactly what needed to be done in her role as Mary. She was lusty and unapologetically bold, embodying her character’s wild heart and wounded soul. Her chemistry with one of the brothers added a whole other level of tension to the film.
The moment I saw Mosaku cast as Annie, I knew we were in for a treat. Her performance immediately took me back to her powerful role in Lovecraft Country; that same presence, intensity, and nurturing nature was fine-tuned for her role as Annie. Unlike her character in Lovecraft Country, Mosaku’s Annie exudes so much inner strength that she ultimately channels it during some big scenes. You could feel her heartbreak and hunger for something more, all without her having to say much. She’s the kind of actor who doesn’t need many words to move a scene.
A Bold New Chapter
Now, let me just say: My view of vampire cinema is forever changed — tainted in the best way — by Coogler’s rendition of this genre. He doesn’t go for cheap thrills or over-the-top gore. Instead, he weaves horror into history, into race, and into longing. The vampires in SINNERS are seductive, yes, but also symbolic. They offer an eerie kind of freedom—a world without racism, classism, or judgment. And that idea hits different when you’re watching it through the lens of Black Southern pain and resilience. Coogler made vampires feel relevant, like a mirror to our darkest urges and unmet desires.
If SINNERS is any indication, Coogler is entering a bold new chapter in his filmmaking journey.
SINNERS hits theaters everywhere on Friday, April 18.
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