Sinners Explained | Preacher Boy Plays The Blues

The Main Theme Of Sinners

Ryan Coogler uses the opening shot of Sinners to establish the film’s primary theme: freedom. 

Modern cinema has defaulted to using the very beginning of the movie as a thesis for the story’s main intention. This is often done through the opening visual. This works for two primary reasons. First, because it’s an image, we don’t necessarily have the context to understand why the visual is meaningful. That knowledge is earned over the course of the movie. Second, because the story is told in such a way that the opening image often serves as a bookend to a complimentary final image. And, in the words of Seth Rogen in The Studio, “Everybody loves a bookend.” 

What’s the opening shot of Sinners? 

That’s right. The sky. Obviously the sky on its own isn’t meaningful. You’re not supposed to see it and immediately go, “Ah ha, I understand the entire movie.” Rather, you make a mental note to keep your eyes and ears open for a visual or dialogue that resonates with the sky. Sure enough, Coogler includes multiple moments where that happens. 

About 10 minutes into Sinners, Smoke and Stack have this conversation:

• Smoke: Cracker showing up late already got us behind schedule. I’m thinking we just set up tonight, open up next weekend. 
• Stack: Nah, fuck that. It’s gotta be tonight. Grand opening and start this shit with a bang. 
• Smoke: Or we start with a misfire. 
• Stack: Look at that sky. That’s a mighty fine day to be free, ain’t it? Our own juke joint. For us and by us, just like we always wanted. 

Stack saying “look at the sky” followed by “a mighty fine day to be free” is how filmmakers establish a metaphor. They use dialogue to imbue a visual with meaning specific to the story being told. 

Citizen Kane is one of the most important examples of this. The movie starts with Charles Foster Kane on his deathbed. His last words? “Rosebud.” On first watch, it’s literally impossible to know what Kane means by the word.. That mystery persists until the very end of the movie, when we see the sled from his childhood. Written on the wood is the word: Rosebud. If those were the only two moments, the point would be made but also vague. So there’s another scene, early in the film, where Kane, as a child, is outside, sledding. Inside, his parents give him up for adoption. The sled becomes a visual metaphor for Kane’s early boyhood and the life he never got to live. With that context, Foster’s last utterance becomes incredibly poignant. Decades later, having accumulated massive wealth and fame, Kane yearns for childhood, for the innocence and joy he lost that day in the snow.

Establishing, so early in the story, the sky as a metaphor for freedom, Coogler tells the viewer to pay attention to the sky throughout the film, as it now has subtext. During that first day, everyone is hopeful. At night, the vampires come and threaten the Smoke’s and Stack’s dream of freedom. They threaten Preacher Boy’s future. The night of the attack is a microcosm of events in America—past, present, future—which is why Coogler includes the musical sequence that transcends time. 

Earlier, when Stack talks about the sky and being free, the conversation that preceded it was Preacher Boy asking the twins about Chicago. “So tell me about Chicago. I heard they ain’t got Jim Crow up there, [that a] Black man can go where he wants.” The Jim Crow laws were what established racial segregation. The question is a reminder that the film takes place at a time when Black people in America still weren’t equal and thus weren’t entirely free. The twins respond that Chicago and Mississippi are the same, one just has tall buildings. They say, “ We figured we might as well deal with the devil that we know.” 

Through that bit of dialogue, Coogler frames the realities of racism in America through the lens of religious metaphor: the racists are the devil. It’s not a coincidence that Remmick isn’t just your regular vampire but described as the actual devil. The extended metaphor, then, is that Remmick represents the racism of the times.

Think about all the Black leaders and difference makers who didn’t survive the legalized racism of the 30s, 40s, 50s, and 60s. It was a bleak time where Black culture was doing everything it could to exist despite those who would destroy it.  

Jump ahead to the aftermath of the vampire attack, after Remmick’s defeat. In the dawn of the new day, Smoke has the final showdown with Hogwood and the KKK. And he slaughters them all. If it seems like a recap of the fight with Remmick, that’s because it is. The fight with Hogwood and the Klan is a purposeful parallel to the fight with Remmick. One’s the metaphor, the other’s the literal version of events for anyone who didn’t get the metaphor. 

I’d argue that Coogler uses Smoke’s victory of Hogwood as an encapsulation of the Civil Rights Movement, a movement that enshrined freedom for Black Americans. The same way that Martin Luther and Malcolm X and so many others paved the way for the next generation to have new opportunities, Smoke clears a path for Sammie. With the devil defeated, Sammie ends up in Chicago, able to go where he wants and live how he wants, a famous blues musician. 

I think people might overlook the meaning of Sammie’s father and the idea of being a “sinner” in the context of everything we discussed. 

We know Coogler connected the devil with racism. That context and subtext means Sammie’s preacher father asking Sammie to give up music and be part of the church isn’t so simple or literal. His father’s really asking him to stop pursuing freedom and accept the established dynamic within America. Don’t fight. Don’t dream. Don’t look to the sky. Stay safe and distracted in the confines of that rickety building where he’s allowed to be. 

Which I think adds context to why the movie is called Sinners. It’s not about literal sin but about the “sinners” who fought for Black equality in a time when trying to be equal was not just illegal but a sin.

So re-watch Sinners and keep the sky motif in mind and you’ll see all the ways it crops up and how the context is always in that sense of freedom. Look at one of the final shots of Sammie, before the credits roll. He drives toward the sky, towards freedom. We see him clutch his guitar to his chest, then the movie jumps ahead 60 years to show an older Sammie playing blues on stage with a band, his dream come true. 

The Vampires in Sinners Are Culture Vultures

Black culture has been exploited by America for centuries. Elvis was the “King” of rock n’ roll. But his songs and performances were based on the Black artists of Beale Street he grew up listening to in Memphis. Hip-hop started as something deeply cultural but quickly became commercialized. 

This is from a 2018 article in Paper, called “Have White People Stolen Rap Concerts, Too?”

As my friends and I pulled into the venue for Top Dawg Entertainment’s Championship Tour, the record label’s first co-headlining concert featuring artists such as Kendrick lamar, SZA, and Schoolboy Q, I thought to myself, “I ain’t never seen so many white people in my whole entire life, and I’m from Texas.” The masses of young white attendees (and for those underage, their accompanying parents), all in designer gear, illustrated the overall mood and climate for the TDE tour stop. 

Although the show was located in Washington D.C.; also known as “Chocolate City” given that 47 percent of its residents are black, the composition of attendees reflected exactly which communities have access to attend a concert outside of the Metro limits on a weeknight. I was reminded of Beyoncé’s headlining performance at this year’s Coachella where she invoked the imagery of Southern Blackness in front of an overwhelming white crowd, and my place in this predominantly white space, although I was there to witness Kendrick Lamar and the TDE roster, arguably the most conscious mainstream rapper of this generation. 

Throughout the Kendrick concert, I witnessed the disconnection between white attendees and the music, the blatant verbal disrespect when artists performed their deep cuts instead of their Top 40 singles, and the lack of attention for opening artists on the roster like Isaiah Rashar, S.I.R., and Lance Skiiwalker. Yet, when Kendrick and Schoolboy Q performed any song with ‘n***a’ in it, white attendees shouted the word as if  [it] were their birthright. The amount of privilege to, as a white person, verbalize the n-word at a rap concert in a predominantly black city is a representation of power. A privilege that absolves its users from the responsibility of saying a term, representative of societal hate and violence. As evidenced by the white girl who said the n-word twice on stage with Kendrick Lamar at Hangout Festival in Alabama, white people possess the ability to disrespect black people’s humanity in front of their very eyes. 

Forget everything I had previously said about the movie and refocus on this: much of Sinners is about the possession of Black art by White-owned companies and audiences. The vampire is Coogler’s way of representing the violence and consequence of this act. The racist, represented by the Klan members, is obvious in their violence. While the culture vulture sings a siren song. That’s the point of Remmick’s promises. Allow them to take your blood, and you get to be part of their group. You get immortality, increased strength, and all those incredible benefits. But at the cost of  your soul. 

Is that not the plight of the artist? Especially the Black artist? Kendrick makes music for Black America. But his concerts are full of White kids. Coogler’s first feature was based on the real story of White police racially profiling then killing 22-year old Oscar Grant III at Fruitvale Station. The film was acclaimed. He then joined the Hollywood system and rebooted the Rocky series with Creed. It was a smash hit. He then joined the Marvel Cinematic Universe and made Black Panther. It was a smash hit. He followed it up with Black Panther: Wakanda Forever. Another roaring success.

Despite arriving on the scene as an impressive indie filmmaker, Coogler spent nearly 10 years spending his artistic energy on mainstream projects that were partially dictated by studio overlords. And part of what made those blockbusters so successful is that Coogler imbued them with Black culture that won over White audiences in a big way. Before COVID, the biggest pandemic of the 21st century was White people proudly saying, “Wakanda forever!” and hitting the cross-armed chest-thump.

Think about that in context of the juke joint in Sinners. How do Smoke and Stack describe it? It’s a place “for us” they say. It’s supposed to be where non-white culture can stop hiding and embrace itself. And what happens as soon as Sammie channels that energy and spirit? Remmick shows up, drawn to the power of it. And he tries to acquire it. To steal the life from Sammie and turn him into a shell of his former self. 

Coogler’s writing about himself as much as he is NWA, Tupac, Jay-Z, Kendrick, etc. How many corporations found success due to cultural appropriation? Black culture has shaped music, movies, fashion, fine-art, vocabulary, and so much more. Yet the Black population sees only a small percent of the financial gains from their impact. Why? Because of the vampire. Because the Remmicks of the world show up, make big promises, then feed off those who come too close. Elvis, Universal Music Group, Disney, etc. 

If you look back at Disney’s recent animated features, most of them were grounded in a specific culture.

• Brave (2012)  – Scottish
• Frozen (2013) – Scandinavian
• Moana (2016) – Polynesian
• Coco (2017) – Mexican
• Raya and the Last Dragon (2021) – Southeast Asian
• Encanto (2021) – Colombian
• Wish (2023) – Mediterranean
• Soul (2024) – Black American
• Turning Red (2024)  – Chinese Immigrant
• Luca (2024) – Italian

Optimists would say it’s legitimately meaningful for people to see their culture represented in such a major way as a Disney animated feature. Pessimists would argue that Disney’s goal wasn’t the joy of representation but the recognition that repackaging a group’s culture was consistently lucrative. 

Representation is a great thing. But it becomes a problem when a company is only providing representation for its own profit. For example, before Coco came out, Disney actually tried to trademark the phrase “Dia de lo Muertos”. Dia de los Muertos, Day of the Dead, is a major holiday in Mexico. It would be like Tesla trying to trademark “Thanksgiving” because they had a big sale campaign based around Thanksgiving. 

The Day of the Dead is a day of remembrance for those who have passed away. It’s one of the most spiritual and meaningful holidays in the cultures that celebrate it. Disney was making a movie about the importance of this holiday. Yet they still tried to copyright the phrase so they could merchandise it without competition. Their goal wasn’t representation. It was the commercialization of something meaningful. 

That’s what Sinners is about. The power of commercialization, the appeal of it, and how those who give over to it benefit in so many superficial ways often pay a terrible spiritual price. Those in the juke joint fight for their freedom, not just as people and as artists. That’s why it’s meaningful that Sammie gets to go on to be the kind of artist he wants to be, and achieve fame and success on his own terms. 

You can see Stack and Mary as those who have given over to the commercialization. Visually, they’re a stark contrast to Sammie. He’s old and unadorned. While Stack and Mary drip with style. Obviously they look youthful because they’re immortal vampires, but think about Hollywood and how so many ultra wealthy people who have given over to the machine do anything and everything to look as young as possible. There’s that sense of immortality celebrities gain thanks to the money accumulated by making the deal with the devil.