Sinners Movie Review: Ryan Coogler’s Spiritual Horror Masterpiece Is Changing Cinema (Warning: Spoilers)
Written by Jhaynane Bastien
A Cultural Reset in Real Time
I know Sinners just hit theaters… —we’re witnessing a historic moment in cinema.
This isn’t just a horror movie—it’s a cultural reset. A film that dares to imagine freedom through death, love through defiance, and horror as healing. Even before the story unfolds, history is made behind the camera: Autumn Durald Arkapaw became the first woman ever to shoot a film in 70mm IMAX (IndieWire, 2025). That’s not just a milestone—it’s legacy in motion.
So here’s why Sinners isn’t just a great horror film—it’s a story that is changing cinema in real time.
A Box Office Hit Rooted in Originality
Directed by Ryan Coogler, Sinners premiered on Good Friday and pulled in $48 million domestically during its opening weekend—making it the biggest original horror debut since COVID.
In an industry dominated by reboots and familiar IP, Sinners stood out—no franchise, no shortcuts, just soul. It also earned an A CinemaScore, becoming the first horror film to receive such a high rating (Deadline, 2025)—surpassing even Get Out and A Quiet Place Part II.
The message is clear: audiences are ready for original stories—especially when they’re told with truth, depth, and vision.
Horror as Reclamation: Spirit, Land, and Ancestry
Sinners is more than a box office success—it’s a spiritual and cultural reclamation. Rooted in Black Southern culture, Hoodoo traditions, and ancestral memory, the film positions horror not as a spectacle, but as ceremony.
The Choctaw Nation is portrayed with dignity and power. These aren’t side characters—they’re spiritual gatekeepers who recognize evil and refuse to enable it. In a genre that often erases Indigenous voices, Sinners allows them to choose themselves, not sacrifice for whiteness.
And then there’s the Asian American representation—a rarity in horror, especially at this depth. The film doesn’t tokenize. It restores memory, acknowledging the long history of Black and Asian solidarity during times of labor, oppression, and protest. This isn’t invented—it’s remembered.
Remmick: The Vampire as Colonizer
The film’s antagonist, Remmick, isn’t just a vampire—he’s a metaphor for colonization disguised as salvation. An Irishman who once knew oppression, now offering false freedom to others, Remmick’s character is a powerful critique of how empire seduces even the once-marginalized.
The vampires in Sinners don’t just feed—they convert, erase, and rename. They offer belonging and power, but the cost is your soul. Sinners confronts this directly, refusing to let whiteness dominate the narrative, while still holding it accountable.
Sammy: Breaking the Curse with Music
At the heart of Sinners is Sammy, played brilliantly by newcomer Miles Canton. This is his story—and it’s unforgettable.
Told to stay inside the church, to silence his voice, and play it safe, Sammy chooses something radical: himself. He chooses his music, his magic, his legacy.
That “no” to conformity? That’s his liberation. He doesn’t fight evil with violence—he fights it by becoming. His journey breaks generational patterns of survival at all costs. It’s not just character development—it’s a spiritual resurrection.
Canton’s performance is vulnerable, electric, and soulful. For a breakout role, it’s a revelation—and he’s already hinted at his dream of playing Miles Morales in the live-action Spider-Man. After this? He’s more than ready.
Love in the Shadows, Death in the Light
Freedom in Sinners isn’t one-size-fits-all.
Stack and Mary didn’t ask to become vampires—but once turned, they made the most of it. In their new form, they finally found a space to love one another freely—something the world never gave them in life. But even that freedom is limited. They can’t outrun the sun. They’re alive, but in hiding. Together, but still bound.
Annie, on the other hand, makes a different choice. She knows that if she’s turned, her soul will be trapped—cut off from the afterlife, from her ancestors, from everything she believes in. So she makes a plan: if it happens, Smoke must kill her. It’s not fear—it’s faith. A soul choosing release over erasure. Her death isn’t tragic—it’s sacred. A final act of defiance. Her freedom isn’t survival. It’s transcendence.
These characters force us to ask: What does it really mean to be free?
Wunmi Mosaku and the Power of Representation
Another performance that deserves spotlight: Wunmi Mosaku, who plays Michael B. Jordan’s love interest. She’s radiant. Strong. Soft. And yes—curvy, dark-skinned, and desirable.
It’s tragic that this still feels rare on the big screen—but it is. And Sinners treats her with love, dignity, and emotional intimacy. Her presence challenges the Hollywood norm that romantic leads must fit narrow beauty standards. And her performance makes us ask why it’s taken this long.
Representation matters—but representation with depth changes everything.
Coogler’s Vision: Original, Black, and Bankable
With Sinners, Ryan Coogler proves yet again that:
A majority-Black cast can carry a blockbuster
Black stories don’t have to center trauma to be powerful
Original movies still have a place in theaters—and in culture
Hollywood constantly claims original ideas are too risky. Sinners is the proof they’re wrong.
Final Thoughts:
Sinners teaches us that freedom doesn’t always come in life. Sometimes, it comes through death—whether that’s the death of the body, the ego, or the life you once knew. And in this world, death isn’t the end—it’s a portal. A return. A rebirth.
Every frame of Sinners is intentional. Every beat, a ritual. This is horror as healing, cinema as ceremony, and storytelling as resistance.
⭐️ My Rating: 5/5 Stars
Sinners didn’t just entertain—it transformed.
It reminded us of the power of story, spirit, and choosing ourselves. It broke cinematic rules and rewrote cultural ones. And for that, I give it:
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ — 5 out of 5 stars.
This isn’t just a film.
It’s a resurrection.
