By Sianna Zewdie (Y12)
Last night, when I opened Instagram for my daily dose of doomscrolling, I was met with at least 10 posts in succession, all with essentially the same headlines: ‘Sinners Breaks Oscar Records With 16 Nominations!’ ‘Sinners Makes Awards History: What to Know’ ‘Ryan Coogler’s Ghost Story Shatters Records’. The revelatory news is clear: for the first time ever, a film has received over 14 nominations, crushing the record previously held by La La Land (2016), Titanic (1997), and All About Eve (1950)1.
This achievement comes amid much discourse surrounding Sinners, particularly alongside another highlight of the 2025 film industry: Marty Supreme. The two films are often pitted against each other and given ruthless side-by-side comparisons, despite being in completely different genres. But why is this the case? First, since I’m nice, let’s make sure that you, dear reader, even know what these two films are about.
I don’t watch films—give me a synopsis.
Sinners, directed by Ryan Coogler, was released in theaters on April 18 2025 (though here in Switzerland we got it two days earlier, because we’re just better like that) and blends horror, action, and period drama into something absolutely unrecognizable. The main antagonists in the film, the vampires (which, fun fact, I didn’t know this film had, so imagine how I jumped out of my seat when that guy started flying), are white people, and represent forces of colonization and cultural appropriation, draining Black people of their ‘culture’. The way vampires are used as a symbol in this movie is the kind that would make an English teacher swoon with joy, and well worth watching.
Marty Supreme is an A24 film directed by Josh Saldie and follows the story of Marty Mauser, a ping-pong player in the 1950s, and is loosely based on the life of Marty Reisman, a… guess what. The story explores the good and the bad of the American Dream, and as Marty pursues greatness with increasing ferocity, he begins to lose more of himself. It’s self-adoring hero takes the viewer on a trip of ego and excess, interspersed with shocking violence, all while detailing to us what it was like to be a Jewish man in post-World War Two America.
Both films have received stellar ratings—97% and 93% on Rotten Tomatoes, respectively—and both are highlights of the 2025 film scene. I myself enjoyed both movies as well—although I preferred Sinners, the accolades that Marty Supreme recieved was not undeserved. The problem, however, lies in the media (as always).
Variety’s vs. The Concept of a ‘Hit’
When Sinners smashed its way into cinemas in April, Variety—the popular American entertainment magazine—came under fire for their lackluster reporting on the film’s success (see below for their now-infamous tweet)
Notice how the author of this tweet seems almost allergic to admitting that Sinners is a smash hit. By stressing that it’s an “original film,” the tweet frames the movie less as a confident, well-executed studio release and more as a scrappy little passion project that accidentally charmed audiences. This faux humility is immediately contradicted by the hand-wringing over its ‘$90 million price tag’ and the insistence that ‘profitability remains a ways away’—a curious concern given that the film pulled in over $60 million in its opening weekend. The result is a strangely sour read on what is, by any reasonable metric, a major success, recast as a cautionary tale instead of the win it clearly is.
This becomes even more potent when you consider the way Variety reported on Marty Supreme on it’s release:
Sinners made well over half its budget in a single opening weekend; Marty Supreme didn’t even manage to crack 50%. And yet, somehow, only Sinners is greeted with furrowed brows and anxious talk of profits and losses. Marty Supreme, by contrast, is treated with kid gloves, its underperformance reframed as promise, patience, and ‘long-term upside.’ Same outlet, same box-office math, wildly different conclusions. Apparently, when Variety likes a movie, the numbers are allowed to be ‘contextual,’ but when it doesn’t, they suddenly become cause for concern. Funny how that works.
Hollywood’s Participation Trophy for Black Excellence
This isn’t just me airing out long-held grievances against Variety—these tweets are only a reflection of Hollywood itself, a system eager to applaud Black excellence when the spotlight is on, while keeping genuine achievement and sustained praise frustratingly out of reach. Tinseltown has a long-lasting history of racism, which can (as always) be linked back to colonialist and post-colonialist traditions of representation that continue to shape how success is framed and who is permitted to claim it.
To be clear: the industry, as many are wont to be, is built on the backs of people of color. It is when you consider this glaring contradiction that the lack of representation and appreciation becomes even more absurd. Films led by people of color routinely boost box-office sales and often make up a disproportionate share of opening-weekend ticket buyers. And yet, structural inequities persist at every level. Leadership remains overwhelmingly white—87% of TV executives and 92% of film executives—while fewer than 6% of writers, directors, and producers on U.S.-produced films are Black. Films with predominantly Black casts and crews are routinely given smaller budgets, despite consistently delivering higher returns. Entry-level industry positions remain inaccessible to many due to low or nonexistent pay, effectively gatekeeping opportunity for those without wealth or insider connections. Even internationally, the bias persists: films with Black leads are distributed in roughly 30% fewer markets, despite earning comparable global box-office totals—and more per market—than films with white leads.
In this context, the anxious hedging around Sinners’ success feels less like neutral analysis and more like institutional habit. Hollywood is happy to benefit from Black audiences and Black labor, but far less comfortable acknowledging Black achievement without qualifiers, caveats, or a quiet shift of the goalposts. Black excellence is celebrated in Hollywood—just as long as it does not need to be formally acknowledged.
Hollywood’s favourite trick, then, is not outright rejection but conditional celebration. Black stories are welcomed when they are served with a side of trauma, pain, or historical suffering—when they can be framed as “important,” “educational,” or “necessary.” Sinners, though, refuses that mold. Its exploration of colonization, exploitation and cultural erasure is incredibly poignant in today’s society ,where white communities more often than not vilify Black people, while simultaneously trying to be them (think the guy in your math class who exclusively listens to rap, sags his jeans, and speaks only in a social-media-distorted form of AAVE). This allows the industry to praise it loudly without ever fully reckoning with its success as entertainment, spectacle, or triumph. People love to talk about Sinners‘ cinematography, casting, and soundtrack, but seem hesitant to acknowledge the powerful symbol of cultural appropriation the film conveys. Applause is easy when it can be framed as moral virtue rather than artistic or commercial achievement. What becomes uncomfortable is the idea that a Black-led film might simply be better—or more successful—than its peers, without needing justification.
This is where the comparison to Marty Supreme becomes especially revealing. Marty’s story, though rooted in struggle, is ultimately individualistic: a singular man chasing greatness, ego intact, ambition unchecked. Despite its occasional absurdity (think: Timothee Chalamet getting spanked with a ping-pong paddle), it is a narrative Hollywood understands deeply and rewards instinctively. The film is allowed patience, optimism, and benefit of the doubt, both in box-office reporting and awards-season discourse—because its success affirms the industry’s preferred mythologies. Sinners, by contrast, challenges the system itself. Its horror is collective, its antagonists symbolic, and its critique structural. That discomfort lingers in the way it is discussed: even as it breaks records, the language surrounding it remains cautious, qualified, and strangely reluctant.
In other words, what we have before us today is an industry that will enthusiastically nominate Black pain, circulate Black suffering, and monetize Black audiences—only to quietly redirect its highest praise elsewhere. Sinners may dominate headlines for its nominations, but the real test comes later, when votes are cast, and legacies cemented. Hollywood loves to look progressive in public, especially when everyone is watching. But when the moment arrives to reward true achievement without caveats, history suggests it will reach for something safer, something familiar, something that doesn’t threaten the status quo. Applause is free. Recognition? That has a price tag.