Ryan Coogler’s Sinners is a genre-fluid fever dream: a Southern Gothic vampire tale set in 1930s Mississippi, drenched in blues, blood, and Black history. But beneath its stylish surface lies a surprising spiritual ancestor—an obscure episode of The Twilight Zone that quietly shaped the film’s eerie heart.

Coogler has never been shy about his influences. In interviews, he’s cited a kaleidoscope of inspirations: the Coen Brothers’ Inside Llewyn Davis, Fargo, and No Country for Old Men; Robert Rodriguez’s From Dusk Till Dawn and The Faculty; John Carpenter’s The Thing; and even Puss in Boots: The Last Wish . But when asked about the deepest roots of Sinners, he points to a lesser-known Twilight Zone episode: “The Last Rites of Jeff Myrtlebank.”

In that 1962 installment, Jeff, a young man from a rural town, inexplicably rises from his own funeral. At first, the townsfolk rejoice. But soon, they notice subtle changes—Jeff’s appetite shifts, his demeanor darkens—and suspicion festers. Is he still the man they knew, or something else entirely? The episode never answers, leaving viewers in a state of uneasy ambiguity.

That same ambiguity pulses through Sinners. The film follows twin brothers Smoke and Stack (both played by Michael B. Jordan) who return to Mississippi to open a juke joint, only to confront a vampire invasion. Coogler weaves in the term “haint”—Southern slang for a restless spirit—directly linking back to Jeff Myrtlebank, where the term is used to question Jeff’s humanity .

But Sinners isn’t just a supernatural thriller; it’s a deeply personal project for Coogler. The character Sammie, a young blues musician, is named after Coogler’s aunt, and the film pays homage to his late uncle James, whose love for the blues and life in Mississippi and Oakland left a lasting impression . The post-credits scene, featuring blues legend Buddy Guy as an older Sammie, serves as a poignant tribute to this familial legacy .

By channeling the eerie uncertainty of “The Last Rites of Jeff Myrtlebank,” Coogler crafts a narrative that blurs the lines between life and death, past and present, reality and myth. Sinners doesn’t just nod to its influences—it resurrects them, inviting viewers to question the nature of identity and the ghosts that linger in our collective memory.

For those intrigued by the film’s haunting undertones, revisiting that Twilight Zone episode might just offer a deeper understanding of the shadows that dance through Sinners.

For the curious, The Last Rites of Jeff Myrtlebank can be bought for a couple bucks from Amazon here, or listen to Stacy Keach’s radio show version here on YouTube for free.

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