The biggest sin in trying to define Sinners would be to write it off as Ryan Coogler’s Americana riff of From Dusk Till Dawn. The mere citation might be a spoiler, but it’s really not for a film as wildly ambitious and lyrical as this. The fun of From Dusk Till Dawn came in the genre subversion, starting as a crime thriller and abruptly mutating into a vampire bloodbath. Sinners remains the same film throughout, though more thoughtful in its historical highlight of greed and faith than the many routine ways one can obliterate a vampire.

Set in 1930s Mississippi, this is a film alive with ambition and temptation. On the ambitious side is Sammie (Miles Caton), a cottonpicker who would rather pluck guitar strings and is damn good at it. Tempting Sammie with a chance to strut his musical talents off the plantation are his scheming brothers, Smoke & Stack (both played by Michael B. Jordan). As the brothers set up their own juke joint, their dangerous lifestyle may be catching up with them. Pulling them back from evil are the old flames of the scrutinizing Mary (Hailee Steinfeld) and the supernatural-believing Annie (Wunmi Mosaku). While they are all assembled for the big night, old wounds and regrets resurface in moments of grief and passion.

There’s so much bubbling tension and musical drive for the setting that the vampires arrive when the genre stew is boiled correctly and ready for something terrifying to make things go from bad to worse. A band of vampires led by the slick-talking Remmick (Jack O’Connell) arrive not out of any racial tension or animalistic hunger, but a desire for music. While Sammie’s blistering blues playing weaves its magic on the crowd, Remmick spins his tunes of folk, both American and Irish. Having a musical vampire makes for some far more interesting scenes than how many ways he can repeat his intentions of murder. While Remmick does emotionally manipulate the protagonists, he draws on far more than the loss of family. More compelling is how the vampire highlights a growing need for community in the face of racism, offering the remaining humans something more tantalizing than money has failed to grant them. While some vampires hunt with seduction, this one sinks his teeth into desperation.

Of course, none of the horror would be all that thematically powerful if you didn’t care about the characters, and there’s plenty of time to get to know and love this flawed ensemble. Although Sammie is seen as the young and innocent guitar player, he also has his own bite for how he plans to forge a future that might be without his brothers. The scheming Smoke & Stack clash on several issues in their venture, struggling to assert themselves in a community that fluctuates between familiar and alien, depending on their time away. Even characters that seem to exist for exposition, with little surprise in Annie explaining the vampiric rules, are still given agency and humanity. The introduction of Annie is brilliant in a scene where she is confronted by Smoke about the death of their child, their spiritual views, and the throbbing desire to make love amid the sweltering Southern heat. Smaller characters also get their due, as with the gritty Grace (Li Jun Li), the fetching Pearline (Jayme Lawson), and the towering muscle Cornbread (Omar Benson Miller). And then there’s Delroy Lindo making an absolute feast out of his comic relief role of a drunk blues player.

Coogler doesn’t confine his film to serving up an equal dosage of historical drama and vampire horror. There are several angles to consider, from Sammie’s religious background of questioning religion to the risky lifestyle of swindlers in the era of rampant bigotry. The most fervent ingredient throughout, however, is the brilliant weaving of music into the mix. One of the most dazzling moments is when Sammie starts playing for the club as genres of the past and future bleed in through a supernatural belief in music’s magical powers. Scenes like that provide a solid foundation, where the expected brutality of flesh being munched, shot, and burned is more like icing on the cake. Having Michael B. Jordan mow down some KKK members with a tommy gun is a strong enough draw, but the emotional heft put behind that scene makes every bullet fired a satisfying assault of revenge and a reclamation of the soul.

Sinners is so alive with music and monsters that come in all sorts of genres and styles, never settling for a simple or gimmicky vampire picture. Coogler has crafted a compelling depiction of the 1930s South that is brimming with sweat and tension, amplifying the supernatural terror even further. Crafting all that within a film that boasts stomping blues numbers and demonic Irish jigs is nothing short of mesmerizing, painting a lyrical tale of dancing with the devils with a few new steps that make for a hell of a show.