Here’s a sentence nobody in Hollywood ever said: “What if we combined ‘The Color Purple’ and ‘Blade?'”

It’s hard to say if that was the direct thinking behind “Sinners,” but I’m not complaining with the result.

In 1932, the Mississippi Delta is abuzz with the news of the return of Elias and Elijah Moore, better known as Stack and Smoke (Michael B. Jordan), identical brothers who have made a name for themselves among Chicago’s criminal underworld.

The pair are back in their old stomping grounds with plans to open a new nightclub complete with live music, dancing and plenty of booze.

With an eager populace helping them get the establishment up and running, the twins’ plans to enrich the poor neck of the woods from whence they came looks to be going well.

However, amid the high-energy evening, something evil is stirring…

Imagine if the ’90s had given us a film starring Steve Harvey and Denzel Washington as gangster siblings — one with the gift of gab and unfailingly dapper in his wardrobe and impeccable with his facial hair grooming, the other scruffier in both categories but magnetic every time he chooses to speak, alternating between a cold-blooded enforcer persona and a deeply sensitive man who would rather shed his life of violence.

Now imagine they were both played by the same person, and you’ve got an inkling of how impressive Jordan’s double duty acting is, giving Stack and Smoke — so named for always carrying a bundle of cash and a pipe, respectively —each a unique physicality, speech pattern and motivation while also not betraying their shared nature.

While this could be his show alone, he’s surrounded by an incredible ensemble, among them the women who hold their hearts, who could not be more different from each other.

Hailee Steinfeld as Stack’s feisty former flame Mary is more of a typical moll — one whose mind is as sharp as her tongue — whereas Wunmi Mosaku brings more emotional depth to Smoke’s estranged wife, Annie, who trusts superstition to protect her more than she does her hubby.

Musician Miles Caton has a true breakout performance as Sammie, the headliner for the new watering hole, whose prowess on the stage with a guitar belies and defies his given identity as a preacher’s son. Alternately, Jack O’Connell gives a quietly terrifying showing as a very persuasive Irish transient who happens upon the good times and doesn’t plan to leave.

Ever.

If you take no other lesson from this viewing, just remember that anyone who insists on being formally invited into a building is someone you don’t want in that building.

Director Ryan Coogler’s script can’t help but poke fun at some of the more outlandish elements of the mythology of demons and the undead, and coming on the heels of “Nosferatu,” his feature has a whole different look and feel — obviously — in Depression-era Mississippi compared to 19^th century continental Europe.

If Robert Eggers’ reworking of the vampire classic gave you the shivers, Coogler will give you heat stroke in climate, ambience and action because he’s making three movies all in one, and none of them are exactly what you’d expect.

As a period piece, it flawlessly captures the time and place with lush costuming, crackling dialogue, convincingly ramshackle set pieces and a general attitude of a Black community in need of some good times at the tail end of Prohibition and still plenty more hard times in front of them. It’s worth noting that like most gangsters of the time, Stack and Smoke are equally revered and reviled for their criminal proclivities, depending on who you ask.

In a story that doesn’t feel the need to overstate the current state of race relations in its setting, yes, the antagonists are exactly who you’d think, though they’re not necessarily the biggest threat…

Coogler is in new territory as a horror director, but he plays the scares wisely by not relying on one tactic too much. He doesn’t shy away from jump scares or lengthy tracking shots — either of which can make or break a good monster movie — but uses each sparingly to their full effect.

As for when things get really bloody, well, every good filmmaker knows what you don’t show onscreen can matter more than what you do show.

Perhaps the most impressive part of this work is that it’s a musical without having the appearance of one, with frequent collaborator Ludwig Göransson’s score helping form a story that hinges upon music.

It’s not a Broadway stage spectacular so much as a string of soulful numbers that are so masterful within the context of the story that they shake the heavens and rile up the underworld, showcasing blues, gospel and folk at a time before there was much mix and match between the genres and certain styles were referred to as “the devil’s music.”

The scope of “Sinners” threatens to make it too much to take in all at once, but as long as you’re not going into it with preconceived notions about what it’s “supposed to be,” you won’t be disappointed. If you know the track record of the director and star, you know you’re in for a hell of a time, pardon the pun.

Just make sure you stay all the way through the credits, OK?