A LOVE LETTER TO SINNERS
Last Friday night, I found myself wide-eyed in row L of an IMAX theatre, heart racing to the rhythm of Ludwig Göransson’s sonic tapestry and Buddy Guy’s soulful, swampy blues. The film was Sinners, Ryan Coogler’s latest directorial marvel—an ode to genre cinema, grit, beauty, and Black Southern gothic wrapped in Ultra Panavision 70. It was fun. It was camp. It was sexy, strange, and—yes—gory. And I didn’t even realise it was a vampire movie until halfway through. Bliss.
Director Ryan Coogler (of Fruitvale Station, Creed, and Black Panther) for the first time has stepped away from true events and franchise IP to tell an original story that is entirely his. He has been able to synthesize a variety of low, and high brow references like From Dusk Till Dawn, The Faculty, Don’t Look Now, and even Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, and channels all of them—without pastiche or parody—into a vivid, blues-soaked narrative that surprises at every turn.
What makes Sinners particularly striking is the way it folds its genre references into something deeply soulful. This isn’t just a vampire thriller, it’s a love letter to the blues (what Coogler argues is America’s greatest contribution to popular culture). Göransson’s score saturates the film in texture and tension, at once timeless and new. The music carries you through the story, each note a pulse, a heartbeat, a clue.
Then there's the lens. Autumn Durald Arkapaw (of The Last Show girl, Palo Alto), a well known collaborator of The Beastie Boys, Blood Orange, SZA, HAIM and now the first woman to shoot on IMAX 65mm, turns every frame into a painting. Her cinematography doesn’t just serve the story—it becomes it. Shot in the ultra-wide Ultra Panavision 70 format, the film feels expansive and intimate all at once. There’s a kind of visual generosity here—a willingness to let the shadows breathe, to linger on sweat, to stretch the colour of blood across the screen like silk.
I couldn’t help but think: this is what film feels like. Not just movies, but film. There’s a weight to it. A permanence. Shooting on 65mm in 2025 isn’t just a stylistic choice—it’s a statement. It’s a love letter to cinema that holds space for art, for intention, for patience.
The cast, too, is magnetic. A collection of rising stars and familiar faces, they come together as one inseparable ensemble. No one overplays. No one underdelivers. Everyone contributes to the vibe—that elusive thing critics struggle to describe but audiences never forget.
And maybe that’s the magic of Sinners. Its creative collaborators are as diverse as its styles, genres and themes. The result is a sexy, scary, bluesy, vampire film that is entirely cohesive and wildly original. It’s a reminder that representation doesn’t have to be explained when it’s woven into the fabric of the film itself. That inclusivity isn’t just about casting, but who’s behind the camera, who’s composing the score, who’s dreaming up the world.
At Astrophe, we talk a lot about representation—who gets to tell stories, who gets to be seen, and how. Sinners is not a film that screams for attention. It doesn’t set out to prove its importance. It simply exists—bold, strange, and entirely itself—and in doing so, becomes vital.
In an era where everything is branded and pre-chewed, Sinners is unique and authentic. A one of a kind blend of disparate elements; a bluesy, blood-soaked, sun-drenched, sensual revelation. We celebrate the joy of artists being given space to just create. Sinners is a reminder of what happens when creators are trusted—when they get to play, collaborate, experiment, and make something weird and good and theirs.
More of this, please.
Words by Simone Taylor / See more on Sinners here
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