Sinners: There are 50 different kinds of horror in this movie before vampires make the list.

Sinners, writer-director Ryan Coogler’s first original blockbuster, is stunning in every way: visually, aurally, emotionally, and even (dare I say? Yes, yes I do) spiritually.

My opinion (that you didn’t ask for): Screen it. Now.(Note: This movie is rated R, and definitely earns its rating through violence, acts of racism, language, and sex.)

Why are you still here? GO.

Fine. Since there may be one or two of you interested in reading more before heading out, I’ll continue.

But before I go any further...

Spoiler warning: This review contains spoilers. If you’re spoiler-averse, check out the two-minute spoiler-free version on my TikTok (@uninvited.reviewer) or Instagram (@uninvited_reviewer). You've been warned.

It’s taken me several days to collect my thoughts enough to put something down on paper because, truthfully, I haven’t seen a movie this good in a long time. And I really want to do it justice.

Starring newcomer Miles Caton, Michael B. Jordan (as twins — though very different from Parent Trap, just to clarify), Hailee Steinfeld, Omar Miller, Li Jun Li, Bo Chow, Wunmi Mosaku, and Jack O’Connell (just to name a few of the incredibly talented cast), Sinners was marketed as a Michael B. Jordan action film. So, when Ryan Coogler hinted that there was more to the story than advertised, I was skeptical. After all, how many times can someone make a vampire movie and claim it’s original? (Side-eyeing you, Nosferatu.)

That being said, I was happily proven wrong. Because this isn’t a "Michael B. Jordan vampire action movie." This is an unflinching, culturally and reality-driven story that demands we sit down, shut up, and listen. Will it make you uncomfortable at times? I hope so—because there are important lessons here we should all be learning.

And once Coogler blindsides you with that reality... the vampires show up.

Coogler’s screenplay is a testament to how important good world-building is to a film. Even when the pacing feels slow in places, it’s lifted by a soulful musical narrative handled deftly by Ludwig Göransson.

One of the best things about this movie is that every character feels solid and three-dimensional. Their lives—and deaths—leave lasting marks. It's clear that the actors weren’t working individually but rather seamlessly as an ensemble.That’s rare these days, when too often secondary characters pull attention in a bid to get noticed (sometimes successfully, most times not).

Among this outstanding cast, it's important to note: Michael B. Jordan is not the star of this film.That’s not a knock—there are no bad performances here—but Miles Caton, as Sammie Moore, deserves the top spot.Yes, I get it: Caton is an unknown, while Jordan (star of Creed and Black Panther) is a name that draws people to theaters. But now that the people are there, let's give Caton the recognition he deserves.

Caught between his father (Saul Williams), a preacher who wants him to follow in his footsteps, and a deep, inexplicable pull toward something more, Caton’s performance—depicting a young Black man searching for freedom to express himself in 1932—doesn’t just shine; it explodes. Especially poignant given the era’s brutal suppression of any expression from people of color.

Coogler masterfully weaves multiple storylines together to create what is ultimately a horror film—but one that leaves you questioning whether the true horror comes from the vampires or from the brutal realities of racism and oppression.

Hailee Steinfeld’s Mary storyline is a perfect example: As a quarter-Black woman who can pass for white, she benefits from both her skin tone and heritage, while those around her constantly remind her that if her “real” background is discovered, her life (married to a rich white man) could crumble. Though she insists she doesn't care, it’s clear she doesn’t truly understand what’s at stake.

The bulk of the racially charged narrative, however, is carried by Jordan’s dual roles as Smoke and Stack—twins who return home from working for mobsters in Chicago, hoping to open a "juke joint" and carve out some freedom. Ultimately, both learn that no amount of money, influence, or violence will buy them what they seek.

In one of the film’s most beautiful, heartbreaking moments, Smoke realizes that true freedom for him may only be found in death.

Meanwhile, another major thread explores ancient evil: African, Native American, and Asian folklore come together in the form of the vampire Remmick (Jack O’Connell), who is drawn to Sammie’s musical gift—an ability that connects past, present, and future. It’s no accident that the main antagonists in this film are white, while African culture and memory provide the tools for survival.

The supporting characters also shine:

Annie (Wunmi Mosaku), who practices hoodoo to protect those around her;

Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo), a drunk haunted by horrors he can’t drink away;

Cornbread (Omar Miller), a gentle sharecropper;

Pearline (Jayme Lawson), Sammie’s short-lived love interest;

Bo Chow (Yao), an Asain shopkeeper;

Grace Show (Li jun Li), Bo's wife and friend of Smoke.

Coogler leaves us at the end of the film with an important question: What is the true horror in this film?Is it the vampires who maim and kill nearly every character we meet?

Is it the casual, pervasive racism shown on screen?

Is it the desperate search for freedom, which should be a given?

Or is it the knowledge that, almost 100 years later, the world is still grappling with many of these same issues?

I’ve made my decision.

Go see the movie—and make yours.

"Sammie: You know something? Maybe once a week, I wake up paralyzed reliving that night. But before the sun went down, I think that was the best day of my life. Was it like that for you?"

"Stack: No doubt about it. Last time I seen my brother. Last time I seen the sun. And just for a few hours, we was free."

(If you've made it to the end of this review you deserve to know that there are two mid and after credits scenes that you'll want to stick around for.)