Sinners: my latest obsession

"There are legends of people with the gift of making music so true it can conjure spirits from the past and the future."

I finally got around to watching "Sinners".  Thrice.  This post will be spoiler heavy. I don't recommend reading if you're planning on watching it.  It's best to go into this film as blind as possible. 

This will be written with the assumption the reader has watched the film.  I thought about writing a movie review but there are enough of those.  I'd rather take a trip through it and highlight the components I enjoyed the most. 

"Listen boy, you can't be believin' everything that you hear. Town'll fill your head with this make believe, but me and your cousin, we gon' give it to you straight. Chicago ain't nuthin' but Mississippi with tall buildings instead of plantations."

It feels improper to not begin with a nod to Michael B. Jordan's performance as two distinct characters, twins Elijah "Smoke" and Elias "Stack".  What I found mesmerizing was how quickly my brain switched from "I'm seeing Michael B. Jordan on screen twice" to "those are obviously two different people".  I even watch interviews with the cast and feel like someone is missing. 

It feels like watching a master at work.  While the costume differences help, the way Jordan keeps the physical differences between the two characters consistent - from his posture, his walk, even hiding his dimples for Smoke but using them for Stack - cements them in the viewer's mind as two separate people.  By the time the first scene with the twins is over, you've forgotten it's one actor. 

 One of the subtle character traits I appreciate is how Smoke can't roll his own cigarettes due to what we can assume is shell shock from their history in combat, demonstrated by Smoke's hand tremors.  So, Stack rolls them and offers them to his twin.  The first scene where we're introduced to them includes one of the film's most complex and challenging shots, despite appearing simple.  Leaning up against their car, Stack lights and hands a cigarette to Smoke, who takes it, smokes it, and passes it back.  Given we're seeing two of one person onscreen, the cigarette pass required a surprising amount of planning, technology, and editing.  The result is flawless. 

At the very end of the film, Smoke is alone and he's struggling to roll his own cigarette.  He eventually gives up, and after single-handedly mowing down the Klan group who come to slaughter the owners and attendees of Club Juke, Smoke persuades Mr Hogwood - their leader - to hand him a cigarette. 

Speaking of this scene, I love the double entendre in Annie's line, "I don't want any of that smoke to get on her".  As Smoke is crossing to the other side he sees Annie cradling their baby, both on the other side waiting for him.  She tells him he can hold their baby but not before he puts out his cigarette.  While on the surface one can understand not wanting cigarette smoke to get on a baby, the deeper implication is an ask of Smoke to set himself aside - specifically the "Smoke" identity made up of pain and violence.  He doesn't hesitate to throw his cig away so he can hold his baby girl.  It's a beautiful visual symbolizing not only the letting go of an identity that no longer serves you, but of leaving this life to join your loved ones. 

"You fool. All that war. Or whatever the hell else you been doin' in Chicago. And you back here in front of me. Two arms, two legs, two eyes, and a brain that work. How you know I ain't pray … and work every root my grandmama taught me to keep you and that crazy brother of yours safe every day since you been gone?"

The women in this story mean a lot to me as someone who is keenly aware when female characters fall into well-worn tropes and stereotypes.  I was worried that Annie, Mary, and Pearline would fall into the usual attractive love interest roles that only serve to further the stories of the male characters.  But I was quickly reassured that these characters were written by people who respect and value women, who had thought through each of their stories and didn't view them as only extensions of male counterparts. 

Grace has a lovely partnership with her husband, Bo.  She has clearly worked hard to build a life running a grocery that can cater to the black population of the Delta, who weren't permitted to shop in the same places as whites at that time.  Adding the Chinese immigrant component to the story is a wonderful choice.  Interestingly, it seems Grace's choices and actions during the climax of the film weren't well-received by some viewers, who interpreted them as a betrayal of racial solidarity between black and East Asian communities.  My interpretation was closer to how the director, Ryan Coogler, explained her actions.  To me, I was seeing a fierce, protective mother unwilling to be passive.  Despite not being a mother myself, I understood why she did what she did.  I appreciated how strong and fierce she was, one of the only voices to say "let's go get those mother effers".  Then she directly targets her husband-turned-vampire, no hesitation in taking him out and taking herself out in the process, on her terms.  Badass.

Annie in particular is refreshing as a female character to me - a woman who has kept ancient practices and traditions alive, passed down through her ancestors, specifically Hoodoo.  Not once is her knowledge and practice disbelieved or undermined or treated as silly or ridiculous.  Smoke takes her commitment to it seriously despite questioning why it couldn't save their baby daughter.   When Annie speaks, he is listening.  When she shares her wisdom or caution, instead of the usual dismissal we're used to seeing female characters receive, everybody heeds her.  It's made clear very quickly that this woman is respected in her community.  She is the soul, she is the protector, she is the guide - she advises, she feeds, she nurtures, she heals, she leads.  No one bats an eye when she mentions haints and vampires.  No one scoffs at the use of roots and mojo bags.  

At every turn I found myself tensing up, waiting for the usual scorn these types of female characters receive.  I expected the usual questioning, belittling, ignoring.  Over and over again I was surprised and relieved by the opposite.  Particularly when Remmick, Bert, and Joan approach the Juke with their charm, and later when vampire-ized Cornbread tries to convince everyone that they can let him back inside.  Annie calls them out on their behavior and just by voicing her suspicion, everyone else takes her lead.  If Annie is saying somebody is a haint, there's a good chance she's correct.  Better to trust Annie's wisdom than do something impulsive. 

Mary is a fascinating addition to the character dynamics at play.  She's not just a love interest that Stack has complicated feelings for.  She's someone both the twins grew up with (her mother even raised them), and despite passing as white she's grown up black, accepted as black by the community.   Because of her appearance, she has an innate privilege that she can't fully understand.  She expresses how she never wanted to be white; she wanted to stay with Stack as part of the community.  But in an attempt to protect her, Stack found her a white husband so she could move away and have a life outside of the plantation.   She could live a life as a white woman.  It's clear she never stopped loving Stack, and he never stopped loving her, and her heart wants to give up everything whiteness affords her in order to be with him.  She underestimates exactly what that life could be like.  Stack knows far too well how risky it would be.  

Pearline catches Sammie's eye, and why not?  She's stunning and she's a singer.  Despite being married, she clearly longs for a different life.  Like many women throughout time, Pearline may have had to give up the passion that gave her life meaning in order to attach herself to security and safety.  No doubt her marriage is purely practical.  She seems like someone with more privilege than the people in Sammie's vicinity.   But status isn't enough; perhaps it's simply a gilded cage.  Pearline is immediately ready to risk everything by attending the Juke by herself, performing for an audience, and following her desire of Sammie.  

"I want you to swear to me, and before this congregation, to leave those sinnin' ways where they lie. I want you to promise, right now. Drop the guitar, Samuel. In the name of God. Let it go, Samuel. Put it down."

One of the themes we see woven throughout the story is the choice between what is expected of us, or wanted for us, or wanted from us, and what our hearts truly desire.   Sammie is expected to follow in his pastor father's footsteps but the blues is where his heart belongs.  Stack wants Mary to stay safely at a distance from the black community of her childhood, but Mary wants to be a part of that community.   Pearline is expected to be the obedient wife of an older man, but she longs for her freedom.   Smoke and Stack seem to have regularly chosen the opposite of what their parents or their community might have chosen for them.  The film seems to ask, are the paths our hearts long for choosing sin?  Can being true to ourselves really be sinful?  Don't play blues music, don't perform on a stage, don't love who you love, don't drink that alcohol or attend that party or have that sex or play that instrument.  Using Sammie's father as an example, his commitment to the Christian religion symbolizes conforming.  Sammie's desire to play the blues symbolizes temptation to "sin".  

The vampires portray those desires in the flesh, standing at the door asking to be invited in.  Their offer is everything these characters want:  community, safety, freedom, culture.  Freely love, freely sing, freely live.  Give in to your heart's desires.  Conveniently we won't mention the violence, the bloodshed, the end of sunlight, the loss of everyone and everything you love as you live on without them.  Accepting the vampire's tempting offer is only trading one prison for another. 

In the end credits scene where we meet an elderly Sammie who has become a successful blues player with a club named "Pearline's", he admits that in spite of the trauma of the night the vampires came, that day was the best day of his life.  When everyone came together and allowed themselves to be true to their hearts' desires, they created their own freedom.  Sammie chooses the only path one can if they wish to be free.  Not conforming to the expectations of his father, not trading one prison for another by accepting Remmick's offer, but by choosing himself; forging his own freedom. 

At the start of the film, Sammie - upon returning from his traumatic night - seems to compare his own father to Remmick the vampire, which I found poignant.  While Remmick originally experienced oppression as an Irish man hundreds of years earlier and had Christianity forced upon him, he has ultimately become the same evil he once reproached.  He believes he has the Truth, the answer, and at the same time he sees something in Sammie that he wants to use for his own benefit.  Upon converting to the immortal life of a vampire, he has become obsessed with converting others.  He is now no better than the Christians who forced their ideologies on him and his people.   In parallel, both he and Sammie's father attempt to convert the young blues player.  They want to own him, control him, and use him.  It's seeing that comparison that convinces Sammie to choose his own future instead.  

Ironically, Sammie's father has him read a Bible verse about temptation, and how God will not make us endure temptation beyond what we can bear, and He will provide a way out.  From his father's perspective, the way out would be turning away from performing the blues for "sinners" and working within the church instead.  But at the end, Sammie not only is able to endure the temptation of both Remmick and his father, he finds his own way out.  He resists the pull of two different futures and follows his own.  To his father, Sammie gave into temptation.  But from Sammie's perspective, he's resisted it by staying true to himself.

"Long ago ... the men who stole my father's land forced these words upon us. I hated those men, but the words still bring me comfort. Those men lied to themselves and lied to us. They told stories of a God above and a Devil below. And lies of a dominion of man over beast and Earth. We are earth and beast, and god. We are woman and man. We are connected, you and I - to everything."

What I love about the vampires in this movie is how convincing they are.  Take the quote above from Remmick - I agree with every word.  He's right.  Religion has lied to us and twisted the truth which is that we are connected, to each other and to every other living thing.  We are god, and god is the energy that connects all living things.  Remmick is sincere and he doesn't have an evil motivation.  He wants what most people want - a family; to belong, to have a community, to connect with his people, to be safe and free from oppression and hatred.  His motivation is selfish but it's relatable and understandable.  He desires people like Sammie who have the ability to pierce the veil between life and death, so that he can commune with his ancestors and his kin whom he deeply misses.  How tragic, to wander the earth for hundreds of years alone, with only memories of the people you loved.  To have your home and identity stripped from you.  To have no way out except death. 

Remmick only uses racist language upon realizing that Bert and Joan are part of the Klan, and hearing the way they refer to both black people and the Choctaw. He changes his natural language to conform to theirs, in order to gain their trust so that they will let him in. Since vampires have the disadvantage of only crossing a threshold if invited, they are good at manipulation and charm. It's in their best interest to be charismatic and sympathetic.  

While the story obviously centers around the experience of the black community of that time period, the inclusion of other suppressed minorities with a rich history is beautiful and important.  We meet the Choctaw pursuing the vampire, we meet the Chinese family running the grocery, and we meet Remmick the Irishman.  The shared history of oppression and suppression is the point.  Remmick's plea hits different, because he understands the pain of losing his people, his home, his freedom, and his identity.  His desire for belonging comes from the same deep place as theirs.  He gets the reality that regardless of where and how the twins try to create their own safe space, the oppressors will always come for them and take it all away.  He offers a tempting alternative. 

Hell, the ritualistic and entrancing "Rocky Road to Dublin" sequence (for which I'll say, the only complaint I have for this film is that this scene wasn't twice as long) would've convinced me to join him and his vampire community.  It's a gorgeous way of communicating Remmick's Irish ancestry to us - watching him finally,  after maybe hundreds of years, share his roots with a community who understands his pain.  It also gives us a visual of how the vampires are all connected, as they all know the song because Remmick knows it, and they all experience his euphoria and nostalgia.  Who doesn't want to join in and dance with them? 

For Coogler's vampires, their connection to each other is integral to the story.  Once turned, the vampire inherits all of Remmick's memories and thoughts, and he receives theirs.  They operate both as individuals but also with a kind of hive mind, even feeling Remmick's physical pain as their own.  But, his death doesn't mean their death, the way it might in other vampire lore. 

This connection they have provides a sense of euphoria, because they are tapping into what is already inherently true about us all - that we are all connected.  They're just getting the most intense, tangible version.  Not unlike religious fervor, once turned they want to share the euphoria with everyone they love.  They realize it's the only way they can stay connected with their loved ones forever.  Imagine never needing to fear the death of your family and never having to say goodbye.  Imagine being so in sync that every moment is perfect harmony.   Who wouldn't want that? 

It's the draw of religion, too.  Certainly for Christianity, the biggest draw is community and belonging.  It promises security and fellowship and love.  Even after death, you won't have to say goodbye to your loved ones if they've been saved, too.  Unfortunately, like the vampires, the promises are often too good to be true, and the drawbacks are hidden until it's too late. 

While much of the traditional vampire lore is included, such as using garlic and wooden stakes as protection, the trope of Christian imagery warding them off is not used.  In fact, Remmick himself speaks the words of the Lord's Prayer - a chilling turn of events from most vampire depictions.  No doubt this is intentional, not only because vampire mythology is older than Christianity, but because Christianity is a colonist tool.  Many who experienced oppression and violence at the hands of white men with Bibles choose to reject Christianity on the whole.  Only Sammie's family is depicted as religious in the story, and it's hard not to view their little church as an assimilation to the rules of the oppressors.  How ironic to practice a religion with a history of destroying your people. 

Using methods that may be labeled as pagan to protect themselves against the monsters, and never once using a crucifix or holy water, is a way of reclaiming something that has been co-opted.  It is the mojo bag and not a cross that saves Smoke's life.  It is a stake to the heart and not Bible verses that kill Remmick.  It is garlic water and not holy water that burns their skin. 

Between Remmick's disdain for the men who forced Christianity on his people, to the lack of Christian imagery to fight against vampires, to Sammie's resistance of following in his pastor father's footsteps, I can't help but notice a theme of rejecting the narratives forced upon you and your people, and instead choosing to reconnect with the traditions of your own ancestry.  Reconnecting with the ancient parts of your history and reclaiming your power.  The ancient practice of Hoodoo.  The deeply personal and sacred music of the blues.  The traditional dance of your kin.  The songs of your people's history. 

To wrap this post up, I have to get sappy for a second and talk about how this movie helped me remember why I love movies.  It reminded me why movies stand alone as an art form; why they're so important and how powerful they can be.  It's been many years since I've had that feeling from a film.  I'm not exactly sure where or why the magic was lost, but it feels like movies have gotten stagnant.  I turn to shows more often than not, because they can satisfy my craving for art more than most movies these days.  But "Sinners" feels like returning to the movies from years ago that captured the magic only a movie can.  I'm not sure how else to explain it other than I didn't expect a current movie to make its way so effortlessly into my Top 10.  Our world needs art now more than ever, and I hope cinema like this inspires more and more to be made.  

"Blues wasn't forced on us like that religion. Nah, son, we brought that with us from home. It's magic what we do. It's sacred ... and big. With this here ritual we heal our people.  And we be free."