Better late than never. Last Sunday I finally got around to watching Cheryl Duyne’s 1996 queer classic “The Watermelon Woman.” Although I had planned to catch this during Lesbian Visibility Week, which ended April 27, I still made good on a promise to myself.
“The Watermelon Woman” is a quasi-mockumentary about a young Black lesbian filmmaker who explores a 1930s Black actress who played stereotypical “mammy” roles. Think about that for a minute: What other roles were available to Black actresses then?
In any case, the protagonist of “The Watermelon Woman” works in a video store while trying to make a documentary about the fictional Fae Richards. Evidently, Duyne was partly inspired by the memory of such actresses as Louise Beavers, Hattie McDaniel, and Butterfly McQueen, the latter two who appeared in “Gone with the Wind.”
In one scene, Cheryl (Dunye) goes to visit Lee Edwards (Brian Freeman), a local expert on African-American cinema. His personal archives are full of big old movie posters, including one for 1947’s “Juke Joint,” a race film about a couple of con men and a beauty pageant that takes place in Texas.
Fast forward to 2025. “Sinners” opens in 1932 Clarksdale, Miss. Superfine brothers Smoke and Stack—both played by Michael B. Jordan—return to their Southern roots after serving as hatchet men for Al Capone during Prohibition. War veterans grappling with shell shock, they now share a singular dream: to open a juke joint.
The twins embody the Great Migration, with their Chicago polish clashing against the rural backdrop of the Mississippi Delta. Their arrival in sharp suits and sharper tongues sparks tension—and sets the stage for what is to come.
As the brothers prepare their club’s grand opening, we meet Sammie (Miles Caton), the local preacher’s son, aptly also known as “Preacher Boy.” Standing at a spiritual crossroads, he chooses to walk away from the pulpit—and toward the blues. Think “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” but switch the states.
In one of the film’s most evocative sequences, Sammie and Stack drive through cotton fields as Sammie sings with haunting depth. The music is alive with joy and sorrow, while the brothers frantically check off their juke joint’s punch list.
They have no idea their big night will end in flames.
The twist? Uninvited Irish vampires try to crash the party. Turned away by the juke joint’s bouncer, Cornbread (Omar Miller), their true nature quickly becomes apparent. Unexpected and utterly terrifying, their attacks are grotesque, but thematically potent. Coogler connects vampirism with the exploitation and trauma of the Jim Crow South.
The use of twins ties into a broader trend this year, too. Films like “Mickey 17,” “The Monkey,” and the upcoming “Twinless” all explore duality in new ways. In a world awash with our artificial intelligence avatars, this is hardly surprising.
Music lovers should take note, too. “Sinners” is as much a sonic experience as a visual one. Coogler reunites with composer Ludwig Göransson, production designer Hannah Beachler, and costume designer Ruth E. Carter to sensational, stunning effect. A trio of Oscar winners, these craftspeople know their stuff, which enhances the whole movie.
And don’t head for the exit when the credits start rolling. Stay seated for a moving postscript featuring blues legend Buddy Guy, now 88, sharing his reflections. I had the chance to see him live in 2014. Like a fine wine, the man only improves with age. If he is not the blues personified, I don’t know who is.
Bold, bloody, and bursting with soul, catch “Sinners” while you can. The ghosts of history will meet you there.
