Hell Is Empty and Demons Are Here: Let's Talk about Sinners

The creatures of the most-renowned myths, folklores and legends have always served more as an excuse to expose certain social, political and even economic topics than to glorify their anthropomorphically distorted figures. Just to mention some modern examples, it's fantastic how, on the one hand, Robert Eggers presented an overwhelming, nightmarish portrait of masculine violence with its hypnotic Nosferatu or how, on the other hand, Leigh Whannell remastered such a poorly wasted classic for decades—the werewolf one—with the premiere of his fantastic, underestimated Wolf Man early this year. One would think that the focus should be to give certain spectacularity to the undeniable presence of these beings, a product of the imagination, or delusion… or however you want to call it. But the main reason for the existence of these beings in cinema is actually related to other matters.

While watching Benicio Del Toro run across the Victorian London roofs in The Wolfman, you may have gotten a sparkle in your eyes due to what you were witnessing. And it's totally understandable, it happened to me too. But the heart of good cinema is simply and ironically reduced to telling a good story. In this ongoing effort to present something new and innovative in this cinematic landscape full of recycled products, the—consecrated?—American director Ryan Coogler found inspiration in his deceased grandfather and his passion for blues, in some titles from the unconventional but amazing Robert Rodríguez… and also in an urge to present a different look of the horror genre.

Sinners, Coogler's last attempt at giving the relationship between vampirism and cinema a twist, unfortunately ends up having little of the horror advertised. This is a capriciously confusing story… but all the edges of its beautiful frames do radiate a lot of substance and style. Shot with 15/70 IMAX format and Ultra Panavision 70—the two biggest formats currently available in the seventh art—the director's fifth film fails by exaggerating variants of all kinds to build a story that feels superficially solid, but that underneath doesn't have any shining aspect except for delivering a visual spectacle with some poorly executed plot twists.

WELL, BUT WHAT'S THE STORY?

Mississippi, October 16, 1932. Michael B. Jordan, who works with the director frequently, plays two infamous twins called Smoke and Stack. They are two gangsters who, after acquiring a suspicious amount of money thanks to their criminal life in Chicago, return to their homeland to open an exclusive juke joint for African Americans, established solely as an excuse to escape whatever they did in the North. For this, they recruit acquaintances and different talents of this swampy area with the help of the gift of the gab and money. And where do vampires fit in all this? That's another story we will eventually get to.

The movie's first half can be interpreted as a slowly developed family/social drama that only serves to meet the characters. I would say it takes too much time to do this, and it isn't even worth it since we can't connect with them. I couldn't empathize with the development of these identities, surely due to one factor: there are too many grey areas in a story that undoubtedly seems to require black and white. We are talking about a battle between good and bad. The main interpretative problem lies in the inexistent leading duo played by Jordan. Smoke and Stack may not be two completely different people, after all, it's said that twins are connected by a bond in which any decision or act of one affects the other, but I couldn't tell who was Smoke and who was Stack. Whether due to ignorance or boredom, I never understood the real reason for presenting twins. Coogler's whim?

And here's where vampires come in. With a kind of tribute to the crazy From Dusk Till Dawn (1996), Coogler introduces the Ku Klux Klan in an allegory of the apparent white supremacy over the African-American one. Even though the beginning is interpreted likewise, it turns out it isn't completely like this. And here's where the story loses strength. Why vampires, then? What are you trying to say, Ryan? My theory is that the director, infatuated after—partly—leaving behind the Marvel Universe and all that sudden fame, used his position to convince Warner that yes, he can do whatever he pleases. As the audience, we are implying that our desperation for something innovative blinds us before any attempt at an "original idea." On the one hand, I applaud Coogler but, on the other, his project doesn't convince me completely.

Luckily for me, the surprise came from three amazing performances: Firstly, we have Delroy Lindo in a "I don't care I'm 72 years old, I'm going to give my everything on screen like I was 25" mood. Secondly, oddly on the other side of the experience, the rookie Miles Caton plays Sammie Moore, the twins' cousin. Thanks to not only his musical talent but also his gestural and physical ones, he sets Michael B. Jordan's exaggerated intensity aside as if he was telling him "calm down friend, this isn't Creed nor Black Panther, we are in 1932." Lastly, in the middle of both, like Coogler's whim, Jack O'Connell plays the vampire Remmick, a guy who comes out of the blue to disrupt the atmosphere, pass along his thirst for blood… and not much more than that. Surely, we can say his characterization as this so-called villain adds the touch of mystery the film needs. The thing is, I wasn't expecting much depth, but if the director had only respected the symbolism HE initially proposed, I think his whole story would have been much simpler to absorb and digest. Unfortunately, everything is left there. Much blues ado nothing.

Published on ABRIL 26, 2025, 22:55 PM | UTC-GMT -3

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