Growing up Black and Christian in the American South, I’ve always had a dysfunctional relationship with music. Like countless religious kids, I recognized gospel as the lifeblood of the church, a conduit for the powers of the Holy Ghost — and rhythm and blues, its secular counterpart, as an invitation for demonic interference. It’s something I was taught to avoid, to shield myself against. The likes of Beyoncé and Britney Spears were totally off-limits in my house: embracing them too readily could have opened the floodgates for evil to overwhelm my spirit... or so my parents had told me.
It’s just like this for Sammie (Miles Caton), the reluctant hero of Ryan Coogler’s latest — and perhaps most personal — film, Sinners. Sammie’s the son of a preacher: he’s been brought up to keep God’s word close at hand, to shun anything that would tempt him away from the straight and narrow path. But Sammie might also be something called a griot, a figure that can play music so pure and true that it “pierces the veil,” connecting us to the past and future, to the supernatural. Music is a kind of religion for Sammie, which is why, even after stumbling into church one Sunday morning — broken guitar in hand, maimed and bloody from a wild, traumatic night — he can’t put his instrument down. He’s danced with the devil, his father says; now the devil’s followed him home. But he can’t turn away from the thing that’s become his salvation, even if doing so could exorcise the evil for good.
