[***spoiler-free***]
We went to see the movie Sinners in theaters. Twice. We’ll watch it again. We’ve also been listening to the Ryan Coogler and Ludwig Göransson-supervised Original Motion Picture Soundtrack, acting as the commercial companion to the incidental Original Motion Picture Score (fully written and arranged by the award-winning Swedish composer—it has gotten a fair amount of spins itself). For the uninitiated, the blockbuster opened in theaters on 18th April, and is a US Southern gothic supernatural horror joint by 39-year old Californian film director, producer, and screenwriter Ryan Coogler—of Black Panther and Creed fame. Starring Michael B. Jordan, Hailee Steinfeld, Miles Caton, and Jack O’Connell, the movie is distributed by Warner Bros Pictures and at the time of this writing fares as the seventh highest-grossing film of 2025, having received widespread acclaim from audiences and critics alike.
The motion pictures narrates of identical twins Smoke and Stack Moore returning to Clarksdale, Mississippi, in 1932, after a multi-year stint working for Al Capone in Chicago. Leveraging illegitimate funds stolen from outlaws up in Illinois, they acquire a decaying sawmill from local racist landowner Hogwood, with the intention of converting it into a blues-infused juke joint for the local black community overnight. Their cousin, ‘preacherboy’ Sammie, a gifted and aspiring guitarist, joins them despite his pastor father Jedidiah’s warnings that messing with blues music means invoking the supernatural. The twins also go on to recruit blues pianist Delta Slim and singer Pearline to boost their line up—as well as Smoke’s estranged wife Annie as cook, local Chinese shopkeepers Grace and Bo Chow as suppliers, and longtime field worker Cornbread as door bouncer.
On account of this premise, the full movie takes place over a narrative arc of 24 hours, from dawn to sunrise, as it were. True to its loaded title, it leaves no character able to cast the proverbial first stone. Above all though, it recounts of the power of soulful, dangerous music, summoning ancient tales of Faustian bargains involving legendary bluesman Robert Johnson, as well as of grit, persistence, and defiance. In it, belief and damnation aren’t presented as a discrete dichotomy, but rather as a continuum into which different people can strive to insert themselves. Some of them will stick their landing more toward the hell-bent end of the spectrum, whereas others will manage to redeem themselves by doing good. Or at least, better. The film displays remarkable performance by a slew of extremely well cast actors, but its main protagonist is undoubtedly blues music.
Music not only low-key furnishes utilitarian plot elements that weave together a robust, catchy, and well-rounded narrative, but acts as a fourth-wall of sorts, upon which rests a whole Stranger Things-esque premise of good vs evil. Unlike the Netflix teen-horror sensation, in Sinners the upside down is journeyed through the conjuring of otherworldly blues music. Music with a message, with a heart, and with a purpose. Music that served as triage for a peoples faced with all systemic injustices and structural exploitations of this world. Thing is: when played by the right person, blues riffs and licks crack open the Venn diagram separating heaven from the abyss. More often than not, with unintended consequences that tally up in communal baggages carried on by generations.
That’s what so relatable about the screenplay and its execution. Absent the cinematic bells and whistles tied to folkloric allegories that envelop the aptly unraveled story, the movie tells of a time and a place that occurred not even a century ago. Memories of societal textures, political orders, and civic mechanisms are still vivid in a lot of people’s minds, especially those of African American descent. Sinners presents us with a window into a slice of society whose perspective was completely negated at the time, and in doing so offers us a restaurant menu from which we can cherrypick who and what we want to see ourselves in. This thing has black people, Asians, native Americans, and of course the white. In many ways, the juke joint launched by the Moore bros can act as a Petri dish for the many communities we live in. The storytelling device of setting it during the segregative Jim Crow-era US South renders it poignant and important, but the greed, selfishness, and self-righteousness of most characters is timeless.
The feeling of belonging and the fight for self-preservation run deep in the thick plot—yet incidentally, those are two of the main motors that power the engines of blues rock. Most music stemming from heart-on-sleeve honesty, truly. Case in point: when local pastor Jedidiah bestows the cautionary tale upon his preacherboy son about the dangers of ‘bringing evil home’ by playing blues on the cursed guitar, he appears to be doing so while well aware of the artistic might of the music style in question. Unwavering, Sammie politely listens to his father’s dire warning, but still proceeds to join Smoke and Stack in their entertainment venture. In Sinners, much like real life, everyone has their own self-centered agenda, and is ready to go quite at length to impose its devils unto others. Whether in a dignified way or not, that’s for Belzebuth to determine.
The movie is far from a survival of the fittest, winner-takes-it-all parable though. Compassion and humanity surface to the top for a sizable chunk of the characters, good or bad may they be. This dynamic renders them well aware of the misdeeds they are committing, albeit not quite while they are committing them. L’esprit d’escalier. Without giving anything away, after repeated screenings of this flick, the sensation is that the sincere power of community—brought together inside the juke joint by the Moore twins—enacts a vessel that helps demystifying the cynicism of everyday life, bringing patrons and owners alike to the realization that their lives are more than the sum of their daily decisions. Uncompromising and unapologetic with respect to staying true to their innate identities, various protagonists in the feature film do seem to want to do the right thing. When amongst peers, they become selfless and free; all of a sudden their thirst for petty revenge fades into the background.
In typical Göransson fashion, the commercial-leaning soundtrack LP he curated features as a diverse an array of acts as trap singer Don Toliver, blues mainstay RL Burnside’s grandson Cedric Burnside, English alt-pop giant James Blake, Alice in Chains-founder Jerry Cantrell, Chicago Blues godfather Buddy Guy, as well as disgraced R&B singer/songwriter Rod Wave—who penned the official lead single for the Various Artists compilation. Blues is by definition anti-snob music. Blues is lunch pail and shovel music. Reflectively, Sinners is for everyone. The incidental original score by the 40-year-old Swedish musician, composer, and record producer is gripping and asphyxiating, whether synched to the moving images or listened to in audio-only isolation. Yet it is none the less an evocative recall of the range and dexterity of the underlying blues music.
“All money come with blood, baby“, says Smoke to Annie at one point in the movie, as she questions him about the dubious provenance of the cash stash he brought back from Chicago. Seas of blood and violent deaths are certainly not in short supply in here—yet the most lethal weapon of them all might just turn out to be a six-string with the right chord progression.
We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time.
AV
Everything Must Swing 