Even though they have been gone for seven years, half of Clarksdale still remembers the identical “Smokestack” twins, Elijah “Smoke” Moore and Elais “Stack” Moore—the black half. The town’s severe racial divide is only bridged by Bo and Grace Chow, who operate general stores on both sides of the main street.
The Smokestacks intend to open a new juke, so they recruit crusty old bluesman Delta Slim and their young up-and-coming guitarist cousin Sammie “Preacher Boy” Moore to supply the entertainment. However, there is sure to be trouble since Stack’s biracial-but-passing ex, Mary is coming. So will Pearline, an inconveniently married vocalist, who has been giving Preacher Boy the eye.
However, the real trouble comes when Remmick, an old Celtic vampire, and a recently-turned former KKK married couple try to crash the party. Wisely, the Smokestacks are reluctant to invite in freaky white weirdos, but the vampires can be very persuasive and deceptive. Smoke’s ex-wife Annie might also have some insight into the evil lurking outside, as a hoodoo practitioner.
Eventually, the great Buddy Guy plays an important part in this tale, but it would spoilery to explain how. Regardless, it is safe to say his role plays to his strengths and it some ways serves as a glorious capstone to his legendary career. It should be noted his main appearance comes soon after the closing credits start—and it is a scene that holds great significance to the film’s narrative. (There is also a post-credits stinger that is worth sticking around for, but does not impact the storyline to any degree.)
Frankly, Buddy Guy deserves to have his name above the title. That said, Michael B. Jordan’s already considerable star-power raises even higher with his tour-de-force performance as the Smokestack Twins. He is all kinds of fierce and dangerously charismatic. It is an unusually accomplished and memorable portrayals of twins, even though the Smokestacks are not as sharply differentiated as the twins played by Theo James in The Monkey or Jeremy Irons in Dead Ringer—but he is still at that level.
Yet, perhaps the cast-member most deserving an awards campaign might be Delroy Lindo for his understated but still scene-stealing work as Delta Slim. He channels decades of blues lore, while getting most of the film’s laughs with Slim’s dry—yet well-lubricated, if you know what I mean—wit.
Another virtue that sets Sinners apart is the wealth of fully developed supporting characters—at least a dozen’s worth. Li Yun Li and Yao are definitely two standouts as the Chows, who turn out to be much more than convenient devices to travel between Clarksdale’s segregated halves. Plus, Jack O’Connell brings the bravura flamboyance of his Rogue Heroes character, but he manifests it in a much more sinister manner as the vampire Remmick.
Pretty much every works in Sinners, but Buddy Guy truly raises it to a stratospheric level. If there were awards for performances under ten minutes, he should be a shoe-in. Regardless, Coogler’s screenplay deserves to be a serious contender, along with Lindo. It is as good as you probably heard. Very highly recommended, Sinners is still playing in theaters, including the Look 57 in New York.
