Black Panther: A Superhero Who Matters

Marvel's Black Panther is on track to make a bazillion dollars at the box office. Many people are saying this "exceeds expectations," but let's be real. Everyone has been talking about this movie from the second that trailer was released. There was so much hype and excitement, and people were so ready for this movie. So let's not pretend that the amazing business this film did on opening weekend is a surprise. It was 100% expected and it's time Hollywood acknowledged that if they make a movie without a lot of white people, audiences will still go see it. In fact, they'll probably go see it a lot more.

This movie is revolutionary in many ways. The cast is almost exclusively composed of black actors, apart from Martin Freeman and Andy Serkis (the "Tolkien white guys" as per the greatest joke I ever read on Twitter). And they are the creme de la creme of acting talent - Chadwick Boseman, Lupita Nyong'o, Michael B. Jordan, Daniel Kaluuya, Angela Bassett, Forest Whitaker, the list goes on. All of these actors have proven themselves independently in movies where they're the sole black person, but now, they are all in one movie together and the screen crackles with their chemistry. Since we're talking about a superhero movie, a superhero analogy comes to mind - Captain Planet. While everyone might have their special powers by themselves, when they combine forces, they manage to create something absolutely unstoppable.

I know everyone is waxing poetic about this movie and perhaps you're someone who is rolling their eyes and saying what's the big deal? Well, the big deal is that we always see white people on screen. And because of that, we have no trouble empathizing with white people from all backgrounds and walks of life. We have seen white criminals, white CEOs, white ballerinas, white truck drivers, etc. But when it comes to seeing black people on screen, we have seen so little and therefore, have so little to empathize with. Black actors are almost always the sidekicks, or the slaves, or the villains, or the troubled schoolchildren. They are usually struggling to get by in life, an afterthought in some white person's story, or a sympathetic/sassy friend. But with this film, they get to be freakin' superheroes. And royalty. And save white people and make jokes about them and call them "colonizers" while the entire theater bursts into laughter.

Representation is crucial. If you are a young black child who only ever sees people like you on screen portrayed as drug dealers or cleaning ladies, it limits your ambition. It tells you that this is the most you can achieve in your life. A movie theater is a portal to a land of fantasy and make-believe, and yet for most black kids, even this land of endless possibilities tells them that only white people can be anything they want to be - the black ones are still only secondary characters with boring lives. But when they go to see Black Panther, they will see themselves portrayed as intelligent, proud, noble, daring, fierce, and marvelous. Even more importantly, the black women in this cast get equal screen time with the men. So this film is doing double duty, helping to represent women as well, and let little girls see themselves as incredible warriors who help to save men instead of needing to be rescued.

In terms of plot, Black Panther is a pretty straightforward superhero movie. There's a ton of action, lots of fights with multiple villains, and ample backstory involving the fictional African kingdom of Wakanda. But there's nothing straightforward about how these elements are portrayed on screen. First off, there's the eye-wateringly spectacular production and costume design, a blend of traditional African design and futuristic elements that blend harmoniously to create something you've never really seen before. The score is a similar blend of traditional African music, current hip-hop, and orchestral swagger that sweeps you off your feet from the very first second. And each character brings something different to the table. The Black Panther is an extraordinary fighter, but he also cares a great deal about his country and his family, and isn't simply a warrior in a black suit. He has a heart and a brain, and he spends a lot of time trying to keep the peace instead of punching people. The women around him are incandescent; some are fierce warriors who can casually speak Korean, throw spears, and are not averse to using their weave as a weapon to blind their enemy in combat. Others are tech geniuses, who use Wakanda's secret stash of Vibranium to develop technology that makes Wakanda a world leader in infrastructure, healthcare, communications, and every other field imaginable. 

Black Panther offers up a whole new vista of possibilities to a black audience and gives them a chance to dream. It also carries a particularly apt message in our current political climate where the US President can casually denigrate immigrants from "shithole countries." In this movie, Wakanda pretends to be a third-world country, a fact that gets thrown in its inhabitants' faces all the time, because they are afraid that if the world knew what they possessed, they would be invaded and colonized like all their neighbors. It's so on the nose, because that is the history of the African continent - anything they had of value was plundered by the West, until they were left with nothing but inadequate portrayals of themselves in Hollywood movies. Well, director Ryan Coogler and co-writer Joe Robert Cole are offering up a new vision of Africa and of the African people, as a leading light in the world that will save us all. That's the vision more people need to see, and it's about damn time.