16 Feb Black Panther Analysis

BLACK PANTHER

Dedication is demonstrated through preparation, and thus, I watched all 17 prior MCU films in the two weeks leading up to Black Panther. Turns out that while this was extremely fun, it was almost entirely unnecessary; Black Panther is possibly the most independent, stand-alone film in the MCU. Aside from Black Panther and Everett Ross’s character introductions in Captain America: Civil War (including the death of T’Challa’s father, T’Chaka), and the introduction of Andy Serkis’ Ulysses Klaue in Avengers: Age of Ultron, there is really no significant connection to any other MCU movies. Nonetheless, I persevered in my due diligence, and arrived at my first screening of Black Panther a mere 2 hours after completing the last MCU film.

In addition, I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Black Panther three times now and have powered through my initial overwhelmedness (EDITOR’S NOTE: this is not a real word, but I’ve decided to let it stay) to have a more objective opinion. And that opinion is: this movie is one of the best MCU films, and a terrific superhero movie. Which is probably why I don’t NEED to spend a great deal of time waxing on about it–virtually everyone I knew that has seen it agrees: it’s amazing.

So I’ll cut to the chase and summarize my thoughts:

First and foremost, this movie exudes the passion of everyone involved in making it. From cast to every diverse crew member, it is clear that everyone brought their A-game and left nothing on the table. It is more than notable that this is one of the first (only?) superhero movies in which almost every major filmmaking role was filled by African/African-American filmmakers. The cast is, across the board, so consistently excellent, that it is difficult to choose who rises above the rest, but my personal favorites were Latitia Wright as Shuri, T’Challa’s sister and resident tech genius; and Winston Duke’s M’Baku, whose role could easily have been marginalized. Both of these roles are reminiscent of similar roles in other movies (particularly Shuri, who is to Black Panther/Wakana what Q is to James Bond/MI6). But every scene Wright is in made me smile–she was clearly having the time of her life and her enthusiasm was utterly contagious to me as a viewer. But highlighting these two actors does not diminish anyone else’s performance…the delta between them and everyone else is negligible compared to so many other superhero movies, which are filled with more than a fair number of…ahem, less-than-well-defined characters.

Next, Black Panther has one of the best MCU villains so far. In my summary of the previous 17 movies, I was repetitive in my criticism that Marvel relies on weak villains whose powers are identical to the hero, and often played by a surprisingly high-profile actor/actress who is completely underutilized. This argument applies to a lot of the MCU, including the prior entry, Thor: Ragnarok. A good friend of mine pointed out that in lauding Michael B. Jordan’s Eric Killmonger, I am displaying a measure of hypocrisy because Killmonger is…wait for it…a villain whose powers are identical to the hero’s but used for evil. But while watching Black Panther, this never occurred to me at all, because Killmonger has a few things that most MCU villains lack.
Killmonger has a detailed enough backstory to understand his exact progression from innocent child to villain; he has a clear motivation that is not only easy to understand, but entirely relatable; and his motivation is directly linked to the hero and can only be resolved by the hero. It reminded me of a quote from one of Chris Rock’s (totally unrelated) comedy routines: “I’m saying it’s right, but I understand…” The choices made by T’Chaka 20-ish years prior to the present-day setting of the film were slowly revealed through flashbacks and character moments, and the picture they paint makes Killmonger’s reason for wreaking havoc on Wakanda understandable; even sympathetic. Killmonger was so well developed, that I never saw him as an evil reflection of the hero–he was a fully developed, sympathetic character with a legitimate beef, and the only thing that made him bad was his method for resolving the appalling injustice he had suffered. I’ll speak more about that injustice later… For now, just bask in the knowledge that Jordan’s performance as terrific, as he embodies not only the pent-up rage of a child whose life is destroyed by Wakanda, but the allegorical (and literal) frustrations of a people denied justice for centuries.

I loved the world-building of Black Panther‘s Wakanda. Like some previous MCU films, Black Panther had a tall order ahead of it: to immerse the audience in a very foreign environment but do so in a way that entices and entrances them, so the suspension of disbelief in a hidden African civilization with futuristic tech happens subconsciously. From the technology to set design, production design, and costuming, the world of Wakanda is fully-realized. And the influence of African culture which pervades virtually every aspect of the film gives a hint of the familiar, while also truly opening the aperture to most audiences of its beauty. Indeed, the African influence both facilitates the transition into the world of Wakanda, while also providing a fully-immersive education into the beauty and depth of African culture as seen through the lens of the primarily African -American filmmakers. More on this later, as well. Suffice it to say, Wakanda felt real enough that I wanted to go. More so than even Asgard in the Thor trilogy, which (despite having been obliterated in Thor 3) never felt as accessible, enjoyable, or inviting as Wakanda.

The last thing I want to highlight is the most sensitive, and I don’t feel fully qualified to adequately give it its due. But I’m here to do my best, and it would be irresponsible not to address it, even if my capacity to do it justice is limited. One thing that makes Black Panther work so well is that it is one of the only MCU films to form meaningful narrative connective tissue between the characters/events of the film and the real world. On a basic level, most MCU films occur in a limited echo chamber, where real people and their real-world problems are used as props to move the story along as necessary. This is most notable in Avengers: Age of Ultron, when an entire city is completely obliterated, with a questionably successful attempt made to save the dozens (shouldn’t it have been hundreds of thousands?!) of people living in Sokovia. While the aftermath was peripherally addressed in Captain America: Civil War, the fact is that most MCU films feature the heroes saving day, but little to no time addressing the real-life consequences of the aftermath on regular people. After the catastrophic disasters they survive, regular people have to return to their regular life, which is likely obliterated compared to its pre-hero state.
Black Panther addresses this issue head-on, by centering the entire narrative around the consequences of T’Chaka’s justifiable decision to kill his own brother and subsequently unforgivable decision to leave his brother’s son behind. But there is a much deeper subtext to the film narrative, and that subtext is firmly rooted in the African-American experience. Beyond direct and indirect references (some played for laughs, while others are more deadly serious), Black Panther does NOT shy away from addressing the plight of modern African-Americans and how it is linked to a history of injustice.
There is a bitter, guilty laugh that comes from Shuri humorously referring to Everett Ross as ‘colonizer’ when he awakens in Wakanda, having been healed by Shuri’s remarkable vibranium-infused tech. Yes, everyone in the theater laughs, but there is also a recognition that the title bears some symbolic truth when used in reference to a white man, particularly an American.
Similarly, when Sterling K. Brown’s tragic character N’Jobu describes the plight of black Americans (in 1980’s Oakland, California) just before T’Chaka is forced to kill him, he solemnly references over-policing and over-incarceration of their people. Only an ignorant fool would not immediately recognize these as two painfully relevant social issues in the real world, and not take a moment to consciously acknowledge the fact that most Americans are doing little to nothing about the real-world problems.
The entire film is packed with unflinching references to the real world that we, the audience, live in; and challenges us to ask ourselves whether we think we are doing anything meaningful to make a real difference, or if we are content to watch fictional heroes alone deal with the issues.
And yet again, while the deeper moral and philosophical subtext of the movie revolves around issues that are relevant to all people, they are particularly, and painfully, relevant to the African -American experience. When N’Jobu is killed, his son, Eric, is not only left without a father, but he is abandoned by the society that claims to embrace the moral strength of family and the social obligations of community integrity. Eric Killmonger is purely a product of the failure of T’Chaka to make a good decision, but also a victim of the hypocrisy of Wakandan family values. T’Challa’s great accomplishment is not his physical defeat of Killmonger but rising to the moral obligation he feels to make sure that nobody suffers the same let-down from Wakanda again. And while he clearly forgives Killmonger and makes his last moments a dignified passing, he then goes out and starts to affect change in the world of the MCU–change that could fundamentally alter the future of the franchise even more so than the collapse of SHIELD in Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
As Eric Killmonger dies, there is a powerful dichotomy in his final moments and words, as he realizes that Wakanda is the beautiful place that his father, N’Jobu, promised him, but that he cannot bear to be buried there, instead choosing to lie at rest with his ancestors that jumped from slave ships rather than submit to life of slavery and be forever tied to its legacy.
Black Panther tackles all of these issues in such a way that I was challenged in my own beliefs and, more importantly, actions. I don’t feel that a simple intellectual acknowledgment of these problems is enough–you must take your convictions and act on them. If you see injustice, you cannot simply say “Well, I didn’t do anything wrong…”, because not doing anything at all is also wrong.
My respect for the filmmakers, particularly director Ryan Coogler, is unmeasured, as he was able to (seemingly) effortlessly infuse the entire film with these important social issues, while still making a huge, fun, brilliant superhero action-movie. It is hard to address these topics at all, let alone in a film from a genre so typically formulaic and audience-tailored as superhero movies, but I left Black Panther re-evaluating my thought processes and recommitting myself to stand up to situations that reinforce the systemic problems the film highlights; not because I want to emulate a fictional superhero, but because it is the right thing to do, and I do not want to be culpable to the kind of injustice the movie portrays, which is all-too-common, and frighteningly deadly, in the real world. T’Challa’s final line about the world’s population being “one people and one tribe” resonated with me. And while a movie alone won’t make that happen, it can inspire real people to act in a morally and socially responsible way. And that CAN change the world.


Now, I will make a very brief note of a couple complaints: one thing the film struggled with, which I only noticed on my third viewing (which should tell you how marginal a concern it really is): the fight scenes were often filmed too closely (i.e. camera-to-actor distance) and edited a little too quickly. It was not nearly as bad as most of the Bourne-inspired actions scenes that have been inflicted on audiences for over a decade now, but some of the fights were hard to follow because I couldn’t tell what was happening. The two fights at Warrior Falls were particularly guilty of this. But again, not deal-breaker bad, by any stretch.
The other thing I was disappointed with was the soundtrack album. The music (score and soundtrack) in the film were terrific–much better and more memorable than most Marvel movies. And Kendrick Lamar, who curated/coordinated the music in Black Panther, is a recognized musical genius of immense talent. But when I went to buy the soundtrack, I found that the only two options for buying it were the explicit and clean versions. I’m surprised and disappointed that a PG-13 Marvel movie has a customized soundtrack that is filled with explicit language, while I am also (paradoxically) opposed to simply chopping up any artist’s creation by beeping or masking the bad words. Unsurprisingly, this is the primary reason I have struggled to engage in most hip-hop music throughout my life. But I had hoped that the terrific music in the movie would be a little more accessible. Again, this is ENTIRELY subjective and only a personal observation and preference, but Marvel didn’t get another $10 from me because of it. They did get $10 for the score album, though, which is fantastic.

I don’t really know what else to say. Massive kudos to and big thanks to everyone involved in making the movie; for allowing me to experience the fictional culture of the film and the beautiful, inspiring real-life culture of so many of the filmmakers. Black Panther is a great MCU movie, but a terrific film in its own right. It’s obviously highly recommended…

Analysis by Jim Washburn