Disney’s choice to release Marvel’s “Black Panther” during
Black History month was both cynical and smart. The
company identified an underserved film-going population and gave them a $200
million hero, exploiting the annual celebration of black excellence to pad the
stats for its latest blockbuster — the first black-directed Marvel adaption
with a mostly black cast. Movies at this scale with powerful black faces in
high places are rare. Disney’s calculation was rewarded.
The response
to “Black Panther,” particularly by the black community, was exuberant. According
to comScore, 37% of Black Panther’s opening weekend moviegoers were black — more
than twice the 15% average for a typical blockbuster. In Rochester, two
dozen people queued in the lobby 40 minutes before my 6:15 p.m. Saturday night
show time. Local
donors spent $2,400 on tickets for Rochester City School District students;
similar instances of crowdsourcing tickets for black children were reported
across the country — all this in a seemingly spontaneous celebration of a
film they had not seen. It was the representation of black culture that
mattered to them, a message that I hope Hollywood understands. While the film
does not match the scale of the meaning of this phenomenon, the attempt is
worthy of applause.
Director
Ryan Coogler (“Fruitvale Station,” “Creed”) elegantly establishes Wakanda, a
fictional African kingdom untouched by European colonialism, where much of
“Black Panther” is set. Wakanda is full of pristine lands and the greatest
sunsets you’ll ever see. It’s also hermetically sealed by perceived poverty and
advanced technology. This seal hides the powerful, unknown mineral Vibranium in
plain sight. Vibranium can heal bullet wounds, power a nation, or destroy
tanks. Vibranium can only be found in Wakanda.
This African
paradise is protected by the spirit and power of the Black Panther — a half
Superman, half religious figure passed through generations. Wakandan kings
reign as the Black Panther until they are unable. In this case, the recently
assassinated King T’Chaka (John Kani) has passed it on to his son T’Challa
(Chadwick Boseman).
T’Challa is
handsome, good humored, soft spoken, and lovelorn after a split from his
girlfriend Nakia (Lupita Nyong’o), who opted to go on missions across the world
instead of staying by his side. His spunky little sister Shuri (Leticia
Wright), is the lead technologist of Wakanda. Shuri is to T’Challa what Alfred
is to Batman — an advisor on personal matters, and creator of the latest
vibranium-fueled tech, including the newest Black Panther suit. Unlike Alfred,
Shuri is also a well-trained warrior.
As advanced
as Wakanda is, at its core it’s a nation ruled by male monarchs empowered by
tribes with royal blood, relying on an ancient system of rule-by-combat. Before
T’Challa can become King, he accepts a challenge from M’Baku (Brighton High
School graduate Winston Duke) and emerges victorious. In that challenge lies
the first hint at the film’s moral crisis: How should Wakanda use vibranium?
Wakanda’s people are privileged and prosperous, yet the film importantly acknowledges
that most of the African diaspora are not. An impressive, heavy theme for a
blockbuster.
Three
schools of thought on how to approach vibranium joust throughout the film: M’Baku’s
ape-themed tribe dismisses the technological advances by the royals as hedonistic.
The ruling class’s dogma is to preserve Wakanda for future generations while
helping the world in small ways. Wakanda has spies across the world, and we see
them — Nakia included — operating in the shadows, using fake accents, speaking
foreign languages, and using their Wakandan powers to fend off evil-doers.
The final
take is from the film’s villain, Killmonger (Michael B. Jordan), a
half-Wakandan African American whose body is covered in brands, one for each
person he’s killed. Killmonger uses one of the film’s few white characters, a
music obsessed, bionic gun-armed terrorist named Ulysses Klaue (Andy Serkis),
and his band of white thugs as pawns in a plot to seize control of Wakanda.
Once in power, he plans to recreate the British Empire with a black ruler, even
using the colonial phrase: “The sun will never set on our empire.”
Killmonger
is an apt illustration of the film’s uneven relationship with stereotypes.
“Black Panther” strives to slay some stereotypes, while embracing others in
troublesome, convenient ways — the film justifies Killmonger’s actions by using
a few ham-fisted nods to American slavery. The only other adult character that
lived among African Americans, N’Jobu (Sterling K. Brown), conspired to commit
terrorism, and this could easily be read as reflective of the stereotype that
American black males are inherently violent.
Another
example of this is the fact that Nakia and Shuri are negated in the film’s
final act –both characters become strangely submissive as the future of their
nation is threatened. They openly reject an opportunity to join the fight;
instead they seek out a man from a rival tribe to fight for them. This puzzling
decision is among the many compromises that prevent the film from reaching high
art. But high art is a little much to ask from a Disney-produced, comic book
adaption, isn’t it? “Black Panther” is noisy and beautiful at a distance, but I
cannot confuse exuberance for a cultural moment with excellence.
This article appears in Feb 21-27, 2018.
