Sinners Sinks Its Teeth In: Can Hollywood’s Unsung Heroes Steal Oscar Thunder?

Olivia Bennett, 11/25/2025Discover the electrifying buzz of Hollywood's Critics Choice Awards, where Ryan Coogler's "Sinners" dominates with 13 nominations. This article explores the artistry behind the camera and celebrates the unsung heroes of filmmaking, igniting anticipation for a riveting awards season.

No film has quite commanded the conversation like Ryan Coogler’s “Sinners.” Gothic vibes? Check. Buckets of style and cinematic blood? Absolutely. With a staggering thirteen mentions—sweeping the board in every eligible category—“Sinners” isn’t so much a nominee as it is the season’s main event. Three original songs made the Best Song shortlist. Three! Some might call it excess; others, the very definition of creative audacity. Either way, there’s no ignoring its shadow on the rest of the field.

The process behind these lists—new and, for many, still a little mysterious—ensures that every stitch, frame, and decibel is scrutinized by a committee of seasoned insiders. Eleven categories, twelve contenders each—casting, cinematography, costume design, editing, production design, hair and makeup, and so on. For once, the magicians behind the camera are getting more than a nod; they’re receiving an ovation before the main ceremony even begins.

Best Cinematography, for instance, shimmers with a veritable hall of fame. There’s Autumn Durald Arkapaw, lensing “Sinners” with a devotion one might save for heirloom gems or a newly minted star. Alongside, there’s Claudio Miranda’s kinetic work from “F1,” Dan Laustsen’s monstrous, shadow-drenched vistas for “Frankenstein,” and Anthony Dod Mantle bringing a pulse to “28 Years Later.” Try picking a favorite—a task for the brave.

Costume design, meanwhile, is a parade. Ruth E. Carter’s signature for “Sinners” continues the old Hollywood tradition of costumes telling (if not screaming) a story, while Colleen Atwood and Paul Tazewell offer heavy competition—think myth spilled onto silk. Production design has never looked so decadent or dangerous; “Sinners” again, with sets so lush and foreboding it’s a wonder the cast managed to act and not just gawk. “F1” chases down adrenaline, Ben Munro and Mark Tildesley switching gears between spectacle and precision. “Frankenstein” resurrects classic chills, this time accessorized by prosthetic wonders and lighting bills that would make a producer blush.

Hair and makeup, these days, feel almost like war paint—an arms race of glamour and bravado for gods, monsters, and mortals. “Sinners” isn’t just playing dress-up; it’s rewriting the dictionary entry. On to visual effects, the blood sport of the modern blockbuster: “Sinners” fends off “The Fantastic Four: First Steps,” “Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning,” and the rest—a digital demolition derby, where shock and awe is the minimum requirement. Stunt design, always underappreciated, leaves bruises as its calling card—just ask anyone who’s attempted a somersault (on purpose, that is).

Yet Coogler’s stylish juggernaut is hardly the lone predator. “F1,” “Frankenstein,” and “Wicked: For Good” kept pace, each racking up a commendable nine category mentions. “F1” is all speed and technical showmanship, less fangs, more torque. “Frankenstein,” that ever-adaptable monster, keeps its legacy alive, reinvented with prosthetic artistry and enough baroque flair to stir Dr. Frankenstein himself. “Wicked: For Good” brings fantasy panache—if anything, its nominations prove spectacle still has a place at the grown-ups’ table.

Awards season remains nothing if not capricious. It wouldn’t be Hollywood without a snub or two: “Sentimental Value” found itself on the outside looking in, while “Avatar: Fire and Ash”—absent from the lists, thanks to a missed qualifying screening—might, just might, rise from the shortlist ashes on the strength of write-in votes. The process even leaves room for these surprises, keeping the old, unpredictable magic alive despite a landscape crowded with algorithms and data-driven Oscar odds.

There’s something quietly revolutionary about this new approach. Suddenly, the well-worn path to awards glory is freshly treacherous. A single showstopper costume or a dazzling VFX shot, while still appreciated, isn’t a free pass anymore; every detail must shine under the harshest, most discerning light. Campaign strategies will pivot; artisans might just find themselves—at least for a moment—at the heart of the publicity machine. The glamour wars, it seems, are only in their infant stages.

With the Critics Choice ceremony on the horizon—this year’s first major televised celebration of cinema’s unsung heroes—anticipation runs feverishly high. Chelsea Handler, soon to host for the fourth time, stands ready with a script sharp enough to draw both blood and laughter; expect the room to both squirm and sparkle. This is not, after all, the season to play things safe.

For all the razzle-dazzle, the substance truly rests with those rarely-glamorous names at the bottom of the credits scroll. It’s their obsessive energy—meticulous editing, courageous set-building, every salty bead of sweat behind the perfect sound mix—that transforms flickering images into grand, lasting mythologies. The best films endure not just because of headline performances but because artisans pour imagination into every inch of the frame.

On second thought, perhaps the real victory isn’t in the trophy but in the realization that Hollywood glamour—true glamour—has roots tangled deep in sweat, grit, and the art of the unnoticed. As the nominees parade, campaign, and rehearse acceptance speeches, spare a cheer for those consigned to the “thank you” section. More than ever in 2025, the shadows on the soundstage are where the season’s boldest stories are being written.

Hollywood’s craft trenches have rarely bristled with this much electricity. With the Critics Choice Association unveiling—at last!—its inaugural shortlists for the 31st Annual Critics Choice Awards, the season’s simmering below-the-line contest has irrefutably reached a boil. If the Oscars are the high-society gala of cinema, then this shortlist release is more like the fevered warm-up—imagine sequins flying, tempers flaring—a dance battle that refuses to apologize for stealing the spotlight.No film has quite commanded the conversation like Ryan Coogler’s “Sinners.” Gothic vibes? Check. Buckets of style and cinematic blood? Absolutely. With a staggering thirteen mentions—sweeping the board in every eligible category—“Sinners” isn’t so much a nominee as it is the season’s main event. Three original songs made the Best Song shortlist. Three! Some might call it excess; others, the very definition of creative audacity. Either way, there’s no ignoring its shadow on the rest of the field.The process behind these lists—new and, for many, still a little mysterious—ensures that every stitch, frame, and decibel is scrutinized by a committee of seasoned insiders. Eleven categories, twelve contenders each—casting, cinematography, costume design, editing, production design, hair and makeup, and so on. For once, the magicians behind the camera are getting more than a nod; they’re receiving an ovation before the main ceremony even begins.Best Cinematography, for instance, shimmers with a veritable hall of fame. There’s Autumn Durald Arkapaw, lensing “Sinners” with a devotion one might save for heirloom gems or a newly minted star. Alongside, there’s Claudio Miranda’s kinetic work from “F1,” Dan Laustsen’s monstrous, shadow-drenched vistas for “Frankenstein,” and Anthony Dod Mantle bringing a pulse to “28 Years Later.” Try picking a favorite—a task for the brave.Costume design, meanwhile, is a parade. Ruth E. Carter’s signature for “Sinners” continues the old Hollywood tradition of costumes telling (if not screaming) a story, while Colleen Atwood and Paul Tazewell offer heavy competition—think myth spilled onto silk. Production design has never looked so decadent or dangerous; “Sinners” again, with sets so lush and foreboding it’s a wonder the cast managed to act and not just gawk. “F1” chases down adrenaline, Ben Munro and Mark Tildesley switching gears between spectacle and precision. “Frankenstein” resurrects classic chills, this time accessorized by prosthetic wonders and lighting bills that would make a producer blush.Hair and makeup, these days, feel almost like war paint—an arms race of glamour and bravado for gods, monsters, and mortals. “Sinners” isn’t just playing dress-up; it’s rewriting the dictionary entry. On to visual effects, the blood sport of the modern blockbuster: “Sinners” fends off “The Fantastic Four: First Steps,” “Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning,” and the rest—a digital demolition derby, where shock and awe is the minimum requirement. Stunt design, always underappreciated, leaves bruises as its calling card—just ask anyone who’s attempted a somersault (on purpose, that is).Yet Coogler’s stylish juggernaut is hardly the lone predator. “F1,” “Frankenstein,” and “Wicked: For Good” kept pace, each racking up a commendable nine category mentions. “F1” is all speed and technical showmanship, less fangs, more torque. “Frankenstein,” that ever-adaptable monster, keeps its legacy alive, reinvented with prosthetic artistry and enough baroque flair to stir Dr. Frankenstein himself. “Wicked: For Good” brings fantasy panache—if anything, its nominations prove spectacle still has a place at the grown-ups’ table.Awards season remains nothing if not capricious. It wouldn’t be Hollywood without a snub or two: “Sentimental Value” found itself on the outside looking in, while “Avatar: Fire and Ash”—absent from the lists, thanks to a missed qualifying screening—might, just might, rise from the shortlist ashes on the strength of write-in votes. The process even leaves room for these surprises, keeping the old, unpredictable magic alive despite a landscape crowded with algorithms and data-driven Oscar odds.There’s something quietly revolutionary about this new approach. Suddenly, the well-worn path to awards glory is freshly treacherous. A single showstopper costume or a dazzling VFX shot, while still appreciated, isn’t a free pass anymore; every detail must shine under the harshest, most discerning light. Campaign strategies will pivot; artisans might just find themselves—at least for a moment—at the heart of the publicity machine. The glamour wars, it seems, are only in their infant stages.With the Critics Choice ceremony on the horizon—this year’s first major televised celebration of cinema’s unsung heroes—anticipation runs feverishly high. Chelsea Handler, soon to host for the fourth time, stands ready with a script sharp enough to draw both blood and laughter; expect the room to both squirm and sparkle. This is not, after all, the season to play things safe.For all the razzle-dazzle, the substance truly rests with those rarely-glamorous names at the bottom of the credits scroll. It’s their obsessive energy—meticulous editing, courageous set-building, every salty bead of sweat behind the perfect sound mix—that transforms flickering images into grand, lasting mythologies. The best films endure not just because of headline performances but because artisans pour imagination into every inch of the frame.On second thought, perhaps the real victory isn’t in the trophy but in the realization that Hollywood glamour—true glamour—has roots tangled deep in sweat, grit, and the art of the unnoticed. As the nominees parade, campaign, and rehearse acceptance speeches, spare a cheer for those consigned to the “thank you” section. More than ever in 2025, the shadows on the soundstage are where the season’s boldest stories are being written.