Sinners: Mark Kermode’s horror film review (video).

Mark Kermode drops by to review horror film Sinners. Just when you thought you’d seen every kind of vampire on film—sparkly, sexy, Scandinavian—along comes Sinners, Ryan Coogler’s gorgeously grimy, musically possessed supernatural thriller set in the steamy, blood-soaked heart of 1932 Mississippi. It’s From Dusk Till Dawn meets O Brother, Where Art Thou?, but with better lighting, fewer mullets, and a score that might actually summon ghosts.

Michael B. Jordan pulls double duty as twin brothers Smoke and Stack, WWI veterans turned ex-Chicago gangsters, who return to Clarksdale with stolen mob cash and big dreams. Their plan? Open a juke joint, pour whiskey, play the blues, and keep the past where it belongs. Unfortunately, this is a horror movie, so the past bursts out of the ground wearing a seersucker suit and fangs.

Lurking in the moonlight is Remmick, an Irish vampire played by Jack O’Connell with the charming menace of a Celtic Nosferatu on tour. He’s assembling a blues-fuelled undead uprising with the help of Klan converts, Choctaw hunters, and one thoroughly traumatised guitar prodigy named Sammie—played by newcomer Miles Caton, who somehow manages to look both terrified and spiritually ancient at the same time. His music doesn’t just bring people to tears—it literally raises the dead. It’s that kind of film.

Hailee Steinfeld simmers as Mary, Stack’s ex and possibly the South’s most seductive revenant since True Blood stopped airing. Delroy Lindo plays the juke joint pianist like he’s been around since Robert Johnson made his little Faustian detour, and Wunmi Mosaku brings grit and gravitas as Annie, Smoke’s estranged wife, voodoo survivor, and garlic-pickle enthusiast.

There are moments of genuine beauty here, like when smoke rises over cotton fields at dawn, or when blues notes drift through the air thick with danger and dust. Shot on actual 65mm film, the visuals are so lush they could give Terrence Malick a migraine. And Ludwig Göransson’s score? A blistering, bone-deep howl of slide guitar, sorrow, and swamp magic that feels stitched into the earth. It’s a film where music isn’t just soundtrack—it’s scripture.

But don’t let the artistic flourishes fool you—Sinners doesn’t skimp on the horror. There are shadow-born vampires, frenzied midnight brawls, and an unholy amount of jugular-related activity. And yet it’s also about trauma, redemption, and the way music can both curse and save you. A film where a battered man can slay a vampire, bury his past, and still refuse to give up his guitar, even if God Himself asks nicely.

Here at SFcrowsnest, we love our horror dripping with both blood and ideas, and Sinners delivers in spades. It’s messy, majestic, and mournful in the best possible way—The Color Purple if it had more crucifixes and fewer survivors. And yes, there’s a mid-credits scene, because of course there is. It’s 2025. Even the vampires get franchise potential.

So pour yourself a bourbon, tune your soul to open D, and prepare for the Mississippi Delta’s most melodic bloodbath. This one’s got bite.