Sinners: Horror, History, and the Devil in the Details

It’s hard to talk about 2025 without talking about Sinners. No matter how stacked the year has been for horror, this film has emerged as one of the most talked-about, most debated, and most admired releases not just of the year, but of the entire 2020s so far. For many viewers (myself included), Sinners isn’t just a standout horror film; it’s a defining one.

When director Ryan Coogler, coming off a massive mainstream success, turns his attention toward something darker, stranger, and more ambitious, the result is a film that refuses to play it safe. Sinners is a genre-bending Southern Gothic horror epic, part period drama, part supernatural vampire tale, part musical-infused fever dream, and it demands your full attention from the moment it begins.

A Return Home and to Something Worse

Set in 1932 Mississippi, Sinners follows twin brothers Elijah “Smoke” Moore and Elias “Stack” Moore, both portrayed by Michael B. Jordan in a dual performance that anchors the entire film. The brothers return to their hometown in the Mississippi Delta with dreams of starting fresh. Their goal is simple but loaded with meaning: to open a juke joint, create a space of music, joy, and community, and carve out a future on their own terms.

But the land they return to is haunted by history, by exploitation, and by something far more literal. Lurking beneath the surface is a malevolent supernatural force, one tied deeply to injustice and the long scars left by the American South. As the brothers try to build something rooted in culture and celebration, they realize they are stepping into a battle that was already underway long before they arrived.

The film’s horror doesn’t rush in. Instead, it seeps into every corner of the story, like humidity in the Delta air. The devil isn’t summoned; it’s already present.

Michael B. Jordan’s Defining Performance

Michael B. Jordan’s dual role is the heartbeat of Sinners. While Smoke and Stack share a face, Jordan ensures they never feel interchangeable. One brother is more cautious, more aware of the weight of the past; the other burns with ambition and belief that something better can be built, no matter the cost. Jordan’s performance is layered, charismatic, and quietly devastating, and it’s easy to see why early accolades have gravitated toward him.

The challenge of playing twins isn’t just technical; it’s emotional, and Jordan sells the idea that these men are bound together by blood while pulling in subtly different directions. Their relationship becomes a metaphor for the film itself: hope versus survival, creation versus corruption.

Coogler’s Southern Gothic Nightmare

Ryan Coogler’s direction is bold and confident. He doesn’t treat the Mississippi Delta as a mere backdrop; it becomes a living, breathing character. Cotton fields stretch endlessly, juke joints pulse with life, and shadows seem to hold memories of violence and exploitation. The cinematography is lush and atmospheric, bathing the film in rich textures that blur the line between beauty and dread.

One of the film’s most striking elements is its use of music. Blues isn’t just a soundtrack here, it’s narrative fuel. Songs, dancing, and celebration gradually twist into something ominous, turning joy into vulnerability. The musical elements don’t soften the horror; they sharpen it, making the eventual descent into darkness feel tragic rather than abrupt.

This is not a traditional studio horror film, and Coogler never pretends it is. Sinners is ambitious to the point of discomfort, and that’s part of its power.

Where the Film Divides Audiences

That ambition, however, comes with friction. Sinners is a slow burn, and its heavy mood demands patience. There are long stretches where the supernatural elements remain abstract, leaning hard into metaphor rather than overt scares. Viewers expecting constant jump scares or straightforward vampire horror may find themselves more impressed than terrified.

The film’s hybrid nature, period drama, musical, and vampire myth means it never fully settles into one genre lane. For some, that’s frustrating. For others, it’s exactly what makes Sinners unforgettable.

Horror as History

What ultimately elevates Sinners is its use of horror to confront history. The vampire myth here isn’t just about blood; it’s about exploitation, cultural theft, and survival. The supernatural threat becomes a stand-in for systems that drain communities dry while feeding on their creativity, music, and labor.

At its core, Sinners asks a haunting question: When you try to escape your past, what part of it follows you anyway? The brothers’ dream of building something pure collides with forces that are both supernatural and painfully real, blurring the line between myth and history.

My Personal Take

For me, Sinners is one of those rare horror films that sticks with you long after the credits roll. It isn’t casual viewing, and it isn’t comfort horror, but it rewards you for leaning into it. I admire its willingness to challenge the audience, to blend genres fearlessly, and to use horror as a lens for legacy, culture, and identity.

This is horror with heart, with history, and with teeth. Whether you’re watching it for the first time or revisiting it again (like I already have), Sinners feels essential. It’s not just one of the best horror films of 2025, it’s a landmark of the decade.

And honestly? If you haven’t seen it yet, fix that. If you have, go watch it again.