Ryan Coogler’s “Sinners” redefines desirability through Wunmi Mosaku’s unforgettable performance as Annie, challenging long-held biases against big-bodied women in film.
I watched “Sinners” and fell in love—viscerally, emotionally, cinematically. I can’t stop talking about it, especially Wunmi Mosaku’s portrayal of Annie in the movie. Will you judge me if I confess I’ve been dreaming about this movie ever since I saw it last week? Judge all you want—it’s absolutely worth it!
Ryan Coogler has always had a gift for creating layered, unforgettable characters—hello “Black Panther!”—but with “Sinners”, he did something even more powerful. He created female characters we rarely see at the centre of complex, visually stunning, and emotionally raw storytelling. And then he let them live.
There’s no denying “Sinners” is a masterpiece. My entire social media timeline is on fire with conversations and breakdowns of cultural moments in the film. From the world-building to the tight script and the quiet, simmering tension between faith, freedom, love, and culture, Coogler’s storytelling is rich and grounded. The film portrays an enigmatic balance of black culture, history and spirituality.
The exceptional, unforgettable characters
Michael B. Jordan’s portrayal of the twins, Smoke and Stack, was phenomenal. Jack O’Connell as Remmick was a brilliant choice. Miles Caton, in his debut role as Sammie, was a breakout performance, and Delroy Lindo delivered a stellar performance as Slim. However, the true strength of the film lies in its women. Annie, Pearline, Grace, and Mary, played by Wunmi Mosaku, Jaymee Lawson, Li Jun Li and Hailee Steinfeld, don’t exist as accessories—they are the story. These women had me leaving the cinema determined to be a great woman in film.
Among them, it’s Annie—played with depth and quiet brilliance by Wunmi Mosaku—who got me hooked the most. Her story, strength, quiet determination, and aura reminded me how revolutionary it is to see a big-bodied woman allowed to exist in the full spectrum of her humanity—grief, longing, anger, desire.
Wunmi Mosaku delivers this role with quiet fire. Every choice she made in portraying Annie was deeply felt.
Wunmi Mosaku as Annie — absolutely iconic
I’ve known of Wunmi Mosaku for a while, mostly because we share the same first name (mine is without the ‘n’), and I’m also an actor. But this is the first time I’ve had the chance to watch her on screen. Her character in “Sinners”, Annie, is layered. She’s haunted and hopeful, weary but strong, and most importantly, she is loved— and this portrayal wasn’t performative or for pity. Smoke—played by the magnetic Michael B. Jordan—sees her fully. From the first time we saw them on-screen together, there was a pull. The tension beneath the cold yet tender words unfolding like smoke itself was thick and impossible to ignore.
This stands out to me because, for all the talk about body positivity in real life, cinema still fails big-bodied Black women when it comes to desirability. They’re rarely seen as the love interest, object of passion, the one someone fights for, longs for, aches over. Most times, these women are only allowed to take on these roles if they’re portrayed as comical or as homebodies.
However, Wunmi carried Annie with a quiet power that never begged for sympathy. Her performance was so grounded, so emotionally intuitive, that it never once felt like she was “acting.” She had me ready to sharpen the sticks and follow her instructions to wade off the vampires. She didn’t ask for permission to be Annie; she simply was, and I totally believed her
Like me, the audiences took to social media to call Wunmi’s character, Annie “the soul of the film,” while some media reports refer to her as “the beating heart of Sinners”. She rightfully earned the praises with her ability to hold space in every scene with authenticity and vulnerability. Through every glance, choice and moment of stillness, Wunmi made Annie unforgettable.
Annie and Smoke: A love that defies stereotypes
In “Sinners”, Annie is Smoke’s estranged wife, and they shared a child who passed away while Smoke was fighting in World War 1. I particularly love that Annie was not reduced to the “strong Black woman” trope or written as comic relief. She’s complex, deeply spiritual, and loving, and Smoke wants her with genuine, unflinching desire. Annie serves as his protector and safe space, a role evident throughout the film.
Annie and Smoke’s love story is rooted in shared history, mutual respect, and an unwavering belief in each other’s strengths and vulnerabilities. It defies conventional cinematic portrayals by centring a big-bodied Black woman as an object of deep desire and emotional complexity. From their initial reunion, the chemistry between them is obvious, defined by a tension that is both tender and intense. They took us on a journey of self-awareness until their lips finally met, and everyone in the cinema cheered.
It is a real and profound connection that transcends physical appearances. We all knew Annie was special to Smoke from the first glance, even though it was an emotional moment of him honouring his child. Their conversation revealed their enduring bond and the depth of their mutual understanding. I immediately understood their dialogue wasn’t just about rekindling a past romance. They acknowledged the pain they’ve endured and their resilience in the different paths they took.
Annie’s portrayal as a hoodoo healer adds layers to her character and the film itself, showcasing her as a figure of strength and spiritual depth. This spiritual dimension impacts their relationship, presenting Annie as a partner who is both emotionally and spiritually attuned to Smoke.
By positioning Annie as a central romantic figure, Sinners offers a narrative where a big-bodied black woman is not relegated to the sidelines but celebrated for her allure and emotional depth. This representation is significant, as it confronts and dismantles long-standing stereotypes, paving the way for more inclusive and authentic portrayals of love and desire in cinema.
Audience reaction to Annie & Smoke’s love story
The audience feels the same way. Viewers express appreciation for the film’s depiction of Annie and Smoke’s love story with authenticity and depth. It resonates with many who have longed for more diverse representations of romance on screen. This positive reception reflects the impact of “Sinners” in challenging and expanding the narrative landscape of love stories in film.
Film has conditioned us to link thinness with desirability. And if the woman is thick, it has to be in the “right places” to present a softness deserving of that desirability. For decades, audiences have internalised the message: if a woman is big-bodied, she can be funny, she can be wise, she can be tragic—but it’s unrealistic for her to be wanted with intense desire. We made desire an exclusive feeling, and as a result, it became exclusionary.
Even in love stories, the big-bodied woman is rarely central to the romance. If she gets love at all, it comes with caveats, lessons, or transformations. Rarely does she get a man like Smoke.
A collective embrace of Annie’s story & the brilliance of Wunmi Mosaku
But in “Sinners”, Annie gets Smoke. And that matters.
This matters because representation without desire is still erasure. When we talk about visibility, we must also recognize the importance of being seen—not just as bodies that take up space, but as people worthy of love, pleasure, and intimacy without it needing to teach a lesson.
Wunmi Mosaku, through Annie, does this for me. She reminds us that big-bodied women are beautiful, desirable, and are leading women. They deserve to be seen on screen as the very heart of the story.
Despite some audiences claiming they assumed Annie was Smoke’s mother—a testament to what the media has done with its representation, others have responded with overwhelming positivity. This reception evidently portrays the hunger for stories that portray big-bodied women as complex and desirable— Just like every other woman.
Meanwhile, big-bodied Black women who carry stories with power and emotional clarity have always been here. From Queen Latifah’s magnetic presence in “Set It Off” to Mo’Nique’s Oscar-winning performance in “Precious”, and Danielle Brooks’ raw performance in “The Colour Purple”, these women have held space for brilliance even when the industry refused to.
Wunmi Mosaku as Annie in “Sinners” marks the continuation of that legacy. It’s a quiet revolution reflected in tenderness and truth. She reminds the world that desire does not come in a single shape, and beauty does not need permission. Big-bodied black women are not waiting to be chosen, they’re already leading.
I hope “Sinners” is only the start of what Wunmi can achieve. Because if this is what she delivers when given a fraction of the spotlight, imagine the brilliance still to come.
The cultural significance of Sinners
Ryan Coogler’s “Sinners” stands out not only for its box office performance but also for its strong audience reception and critical acclaim. This signals a major win for Warner Bros and the Jordan-Coogler collaboration. The film’s success demonstrates that audiences are ready for narratives that break away from traditional stereotypes. “Sinners” also earned a rare “A” CinemaScore, marking the first time a horror film has achieved this rating in over 35 years.
Many audience members have already watched the film multiple times, proving that word of mouth drives its biggest marketing strategy.
The film intertwines classic vampire lore with a bold statement about the exploitation and commodification of Black artistry by white institutions. But beyond the romance, the breathtaking moment for me was the Surreal Montage at the juke joint. When Miles Caton (Sammie) performed, and the camera floated between past and future references, you could feel history humming through the scene. That scene alone—visually stunning, emotionally catchy, musically rich and shot in one take—should convince anyone who hasn’t seen “Sinners” to run, not walk, to the cinemas.
This is, without a doubt, one of the best films of this decade. It’s the kind of cinema that stays with you long after you’ve watched it. My partner and I stayed up for hours discussing every meaning and detail we could remember. As actors and filmmakers ourselves, it resonates deeply and inspires us to think beyond the ordinary.
It’s not only about the story, it’s also how it’s told. Ryan Coogler created something deep here, with layers of culture, spirituality, and emotion that we rarely see, especially in Black-led films. The characters feel real, the setting feels raw, and the love stories—especially Annie and Smoke’s—feel revolutionary.
This is more than just a film; it’s a cultural moment, and Black storytelling in the most soulful, cinematic form.
