Sinners (2025)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Ryan Coogler's auteurist streak shows no signs of slowing with Sinners, his much-publicized and wildly popular feature film released this past spring. His behind-the-scenes producing and generative brilliance is fascinating, but the specifics are beyond my interest here, so please do yourself a favor and read elsewhere how Coogler has worked to secure the rights to his own creativity, his money, and his integrity. The film itself is more my concern, and as such, I'll not be commenting excessively on its cultural impact, especially in the weeks and months following its release; that said, this is a prime example of how much I'm growing to detest online chatter about art. Yes, Sinners is a singular and masterful work of cinema, and it will prove to be important for both students (of genre, horror, film production and business, American culture, music, etc.) and fans. But the overblown, hyperbolic headlines and "reviews" from average moviegoers has simply got to stop (they're takes, not reviews). Sinners is by no means original in its conceit or storytelling, and I find it laughably disappointing that so many people seem determined to label it with exaggerated and objectively inaccurate laurels. And anyone who tries to introduce or suggest a film to you with anything sounding like "it's the best" or "it's the most" should be immediately questioned about how much they actually know about cinematic history.

And I get it: vampire movies are as old as cinema itself. How original can anything involving vampires really be these days? Lore and rules about the bloodsucking monsters of the night has become so extensive over the past century and a half that new stories concerning them must cherry-pick their own guidelines and boundaries to create a thematically and logically coherent narrative. As such, Sinners mostly fails to make significant impact on the mythic structure it utilizes. The screenplay forces its characters to constantly (in the second half, that is) reify what threats are actively preying upon them and how they might go about vanquishing them. Or at least surviving their onslaught. The sheer number of times freshly-vamped monsters saunter up to doorways and ask to be invited inside is enough to make me roll my eyes, even in repeat viewings. The extraordinary speed with which bitten/mauled characters turn into vampires is bizarrely more akin to action films, and even the film's internal logic about if and how long vampires can endure sunlight falls apart under any scrutiny. And then there's the hive mind exhibited by those who have turned, which demands its own complicated conversation.

Sinners, as a vampire film, owes much to what has come before, and its messy attempts at worldbuilding ring hollow. Conceptually, it seems a mixture of The Color Purple and From Dusk Till Dawn, with strong doses of Night of the Living Dead, Fright Night, and Midnight Mass added. Its plot, designed as a vehicle for horror, is one of the oldest scary stories in the Western world: while celebrating, a group of friends and family are targeted and tormented by monsters without, seeking entry by any means and resorting to existential violence. Setting the story in Jim Crow-era Mississippi allows lots of thematic material, though even this is hardly novel, considering the likes of Lovecraft Country and Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, among many literary works by Tananarive Due and others.

But anyone interested in how Sinners operates beyond the realm of the vampire subgenre of horror will find plenty of boons in this fabulous film. Art doesn't need to be wholly original or inventive to be exceptional, and so despite Coogler's mind-boggling choice to so constrain his artistic output with the shackles of vampire lore, this movie is an astonishing piece of filmmaking. Indeed, I'd have much preferred if his story of bootlegging brothers returning to the Delta from success in Chicago, buying a racist's abandoned sawmill, and fixing it up as both a juke joint (for joy) and sanctuary (from Jim Crow) stuck to those elements. Interludes that demonstrate the cultural, historical, and healing powers of music provide tons of potential to this film, notably in a much-discussed single long-take that has me gasping for air each time I witness it. It'll leave you gobsmacked, too, don't fret. And, even in the moments that vampires first start attacking people, one character calls them haints multiple times. My only question, really, after repeat viewings, is why -- oh, why -- didn't Coogler simply stick with that? Eliding the word "vampire" entirely from his screenplay would have freed the film from so much unnecessary baggage and associations and plot holes and generic limitations.

Aside from all that, which is really the only frustration I have with the film (and the way it's been absorbed into social blather), Sinners is pretty amazing, so I won't waste our time with echoing the consensus that its cast is uniformly brilliant -- though I want to say Wunmi Mosaku is perfect and beautiful and highly skilled and needs to be in my eyeballs more often -- and that Michael B. Jordan is a force of nature onscreen. As an introduction to Miles Caton, Sammie is the kind of character every actor wants but only powerhouse performers can embody; Caton deserves accolades for what he gives to this picture. 

Coogler's direction, Autumn Durald Arkapaw's cinematography, Ludwig Goransson's score (and the soundtrack), the editing, the costumes, the effects: it's all detailed and carefully constructed, meaning that great care was clearly applied to its production. If only every film was crafted with a fraction of this level of thoughtfulness and specificity. Questions can be raised, for sure -- I wondered aloud, in my most recent viewing, why it's shot on spectacular 65mm with IMAX cameras when so many shots have only shallow focus and severe close-ups, to which my viewing friend shushed me -- and I rather wish more consideration had been granted in the screenplay to the unbounded potential of Sammie's musicianship that transcends time and place. While it can be a hard film to describe without its obvious referents, and even as a narrative (after all, is it Sammie's story, or Smoke and Stack's?), its first hour, its turning point, and its denouement together make Sinners one of the richest, bravest, and most compelling films of the year so far. If only Coogler had avoided naming his antagonists as vampires.

Just Mercy (2019)

Score: 4 / 5

The latest Black movie that caters (mostly) to a white audience, Just Mercy nonetheless manages to get several things very, very right. Dramatizing the true story of a wrongfully convicted black man, the film follows a young defense attorney and civil rights activist in his efforts to see justice carried out. While the film nominally fights police corruption, institutionalized racism in the criminal justice system, and the death penalty, it reigns in its righteous anger to keep the whole affair consistently and specifically about this case. The result, for better or worse, is a relatively straightforward courtroom drama with a lot on its mind and even more on its heart, though it leaves those matters largely implicit.

We begin with Walter "Johnny D" McMillian (Jamie Foxx), a black man in Alabama making his way home from work when he is suddenly stopped by an entire squad of police officers who arrest him on the spot. Then we're introduced to a parallel story of the man soon to partner with him: Bryan Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan), a recent Harvard law graduate with pep still in his step as he travels to Alabama to change the world. Bryan treats his own culture shock from landing, suddenly, in Alabama and with inmates on death row by diving headfirst into his job at the Equal Justice Initiative. Having recently founded this organization with Eva Ansley (Brie Larson), he meets the inmates he will be defending from the death penalty: those poor souls, he repeats, who are most in need of quality help.

One of these men is indeed Johnny D and we learn his story along with Bryan, from court documents to eyewitness accounts. Johnny D, it is immediately apparent, is totally innocent of the murder he was convicted of perpetrating. He was framed by desperation -- corrupt police and ravenous media -- and coerced into delivering false testimony in exchange for a lighter sentence in his own pending trial, namely getting off death row. But, absurd as the whole ordeal may be, Johnny D's life hangs in the balance, and Bryan's work is more than cut out for him. People are too afraid to help him or too indifferent to care. And while indifference is a difficult villain to film, it nevertheless makes for a fascinating example here.

Director and co-writer Destin Daniel Cretton (Short Term 12, The Glass Castle, and the upcoming MCU feature Shang-Chi) is very careful here -- again, for better or worse -- at keeping the film very civil. Some will see this as watered-down and immaterial, if not downright insulting, much like the Green Book that won Best Picture at the Oscars last year. This movie staunchly refuses to allow its Black rage to boil, as it righteously should, instead apparently hoping to make it all accessible to moderate whites and even shallow racists. But there's nothing worthy or worthwhile in seeing cartoonish racist villains (specifically the sheriff and prosecuting attorney) only out to save their own hides. The film would have been better served to show these individuals as the agents of corrupt and violent institutions that are still entrenched today.

I wanted more dynamism from the plot, but the characters here are also woefully flat. The only interesting characters come from a PTSD-afflicted inmate (a tragic Rob Morgan) who is executed halfway through the movie, and the convict who lied under pressure to save his own skin (the always reliable Tim Blake Nelson). These characters demonstrate that even poor or sick people are victimized by law enforcement; injustice is, it could be argued, rather colorblind. Brie Larson and Jamie Foxx milk their slim and shallow roles for every second of screen time, along with Michael B. Jordan who only succeeds slightly more due to his physicality and burning intensity. If there is Black rage in this movie, it's in his eyes and gritted teeth in horrific if understated moments of unabashed racism.

Black Panther (2018)

Score: 5 / 5

Here it is. My favorite Marvel movie yet, and easily the most important one in the franchise. Black Panther is everything we dreamed it might be and then some. Suave and sophisticated, action-packed and thrilling, dazzling and gorgeous, it also doesn't skimp on relevance, timeliness, originality, and fun. It features some of the most rounded, dynamic characters I've ever seen in a superhero movie -- especially its antagonist -- and pairs them nicely with rich, thoughtful production design.

The basic story is simple: T'Challa returns home to Wakanda after the events of Civil War to find his throne challenged. His struggle to reclaim and reunite his homeland leads him to the contested decision of whether or not to open Wakanda to the world. Its "Afrofuturist" (as I read some calling it, magnificently) grandeur, scientific wonders, rich tastes and fashion, and technology could help liberate oppressed peoples around the world at the cost of breaking tradition and revealing their secrets. Their vulnerability, however, is no match for their warriors, led by a cadre of badass women, or their weapons.

There are so many fabulous things about this movie it would take a book to list them all. To start, Black Panther is a fresh take on the superhero story because it's about people rather than aliens or monsters or robots. The tense drama comes because we see real people arguing about real issues, albeit with laser guns and vibranium armor. Similarly, while to some extent the "hero" trope continues, this film is less concerned with Black Panther's individualism and single-handed macho victories than it is with his (and others') efforts to unite groups of people. It's a film about community first and foremost. The characters all seem radically interested in liberating their people, as well as people of color around the world. They listen to each other, support each other; there is no hierarchy of age or gender, and so we have elite women and elders who defer to youth.

Along these lines, we also see some great redemption and reconciliation between people sharply at odds. An early challenger to T'Challa, though not initially welcome, is saved from death and allowed to rejoin Wakanda society. Later, the antagonist Killmonger is similarly invited to rejoin the community. Perhaps this stems from his views on liberation; he doesn't attack or kill or terrorize for pleasure or chaos but for wanting to empower the oppressed. This is framed effectively by the flashbacks to his youth in 1992 California. Though he seeks violence as the answer, it's hard to shake his empathy and desire for justice.

And, actually, we don't have to shake it. A final scene features T'Challa addressing the United Nations, opening Wakanda to share its resources and advancements with the world. He declares that looking after each other "as if we are one tribe" must be the effort to avoid global catastrophe -- a unique perspective in a franchise about intergalactic alien conquest. While it's not the same solution as Killmonger's vision of a Wakandan global empire, it shares its beating heart: remaining isolated and secret in fact endangers the world and helps no one. Radical, violent empathy inspires and affects democratic change in policy and advances social justice. That's a lesson I can get behind every damn day.

There's more to say, but I don't want to go on forever. The acting is, across the board, stellar, though Michael B. Jordan, Danai Gurira, and Angela Bassett stood out to me. Letitia Wright plays Shuri, T'Challa's younger sister and scientific genius, in a fabulously funny role, and Andy Serkis reprises his role as a totally bat-shit-crazy Ulysses Klaue for a final time. I was really interested in Martin Freeman's role as the former CIA agent, as he goes through what, I think, white audiences go through in the film. His is a minor story arc of enlightenment as he journeys into the world of Wakanda and learns through experience not to be just an ally to the black nation, but rather to get in the thick of it and actively help them. He listens rather than talks, takes orders compliantly, and finally risks his life to save Wakanda. That's another lesson we would all do well to learn.

As a final note before I (hopefully) go see the movie again, just know: Black Panther is awesome. Go watch it, and then go watch again. Buy it later. Buy two. Give one as a gift. It's important, beautiful, fun, and brilliant.

IMDb: Black Panther

Fantastic Four (2015)

Score: 2 / 5

Everybody's hating on this movie. I think I understand why, sort of, but I don't really want to bash it here. Because, if nothing else, it's not as dismal as people seem determined to shout. I think the biggest problem people have with this movie is that it's rehashed material done in a not-so-blockbustery way. So it doesn't really fit into a genre. Which a lot of people tend to lose their minds over.

Is it a superhero movie? In name only. Sorry, fans of the team, but this film has very little in the way of your typical Marvel fare. In fact, this film feels more like it took inspiration from last year's Interstellar (not really a great model, guys) than from X-Men or even last decade's attempt at Fantastic Four franchise. In fact, this movie tonally feels like it belonged to the last decade, but it visually looks like one we'd see today. It has a distinctly apocalyptic message, and its treatment of authority, purpose, and catastrophic horror comes straight out of the 2000s. But it features long, art-house dialogue sequences and expository whispering that feel more like a weird coming-of-age/political thriller of the 2010s. And its special effects are a hybrid of practical, Interstellar hardware and dust-storm explosions and neon cosmic liquid from Thor. It's just a strange mix.

Besides the whiplash between these elements, though, I don't think there's been a more compelling cast for a superhero movie in a few years. Miles Teller (Whiplash, Rabbit Hole) leads with Kate Mara (American Horror Story, House of Cards), Michael B. Jordan (The Wire, Fruitvale Station), and Jamie Bell (Billy Elliot, Snowpiercer), and all are wonderfully realized, though the script and camera don't spend quite enough time with them as intelligent, autonomous characters. We also enjoy the company of Toby Kebbell (Control, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes), Tim Blake Nelson (O Brother, Where Art Thou?, Child of God), and the wonderful Reg E. Cathey (The Wire, House of Cards), but again these players have limited time on screen.

I really don't think it's a bad film, and frankly I wish more superhero films would allow for lengthy dialogue and greater character development like this one. Unfortunately, we have this notion that superhero movies need to have loads of action in them, and hence the last hour or so of this film disintegrates into mindless (and, truly, poorly devised and executed) fantasy action sequences. But the beginning of the film is really very intriguing, if not quite original. We have our heroes -- established as such from the first scene, as children -- as young people engaged in the sciences and full of hope that they are acting upon. Frankly, I think we as a culture would do well to admire this kind of hero over people who punch each other and then spit out sarcastic witticisms.

But that's also not particularly engaging or entertaining for mainstream audiences. And after the kinetic joy of the more recent Guardians of the Galaxy and Ant-Man, it's hard to reframe our perspective on superheroes. And so the film goes from coming-of-age to sci-fi adventure as our heroes travel to another dimension and unleash radiation that turns them into David Cronenberg-esque bodies with superpowers. Then the Authorities That Be inter our heroes, and the film becomes more like a war/political thriller as our heroes attempt to escape or succumb to demands placed upon them. And, finally, and less successfully, our heroes determine to embrace their new abilities and each other as a team.

It's a bit heavy-handed. It's a bit messy. And it's a bit fun. It has wit but few laughs, it has danger but little action, and it has vision but little skill. I felt rather melancholy in leaving, and more than rather confused. In short, it's a summer blockbuster, all in all. We shall look upon its like again.

IMDb: Fantastic Four