Black Panther (2018)

Foreword: "Oh, Stephen! Great timing! Way to get on this on the dregs of its popularity." I...well...eh.

So, I think it's official now. Sorry to all the milquetoast, simple-film-palate-possessing, sappy, romance-yearning, middle-aged, suburban white women of America, but black people have officially claimed and annexed the month of February, as far as movies go. The full-on invasion came last year with Get Out, a horror film that not only confronted the shrillness of white oblivion and ignorance and the ugliness of white, pseudo-bleeding heart passivity and sanctimony, but also delivered on its own as an eccentric, dark, penetrating comedy and an engrossing, visually unique horror film with a pro-black twist. Seriously, the black guys survived in the end. If that isn't iconoclastic of horror tropes, I don't know what is.

This year, we have...well, you've seen the title of the review, the box office returns, the impact it's had on the audience, the mystifying amount of toy revenue, which has since been stalled due to short supply, and you're still listening to Pray for Me on the radio, either voluntarily because it's rad or involuntarily because...fuck it, it's either this or Post Malone.

I can only purport that this is an ancillary cultural riposte to the Trump presidency; an effort by African-American filmmakers to rebut his notion of making America great again by making February at the movies great again. This is Black Panther! Hear it roar!

The film takes place in Wakanda, formed ions ago when four of five African tribes united after a war over a meteorite containing vibranium. When a warrior ingested an herb containing the material, he became the Black Panther. Vibranium is used in Wakanda to produce advanced technology and sustain their world, which is subterranean beneath a Third World country. T'Challa becomes the Black Panther after his father's death. When Erik Killmonger and Ulysses Klaue steal a Wakandan artifact, T'Challa, along with fellow Wakandian native, Okoye, and his former lover, Nakia head off to find and arraign them.

However, it is soon discovered there is more to Killmonger. He actually is the cousin of T'Challa, whose father killed Kilmonger's for spreading the secret of vibranium outside of the secure parameters of Wakanda. When Killmonger confronts what he sees as sheer betrayal to his fellow brothers and a disgustingly selfish refusal to help the world outside of Wakanda, he fights to seize the throne and become the Black Panther.

It's one thing for a superhero movie to excel due to a grand vision, a cult of personality, and visually striking, enthralling entertainment, but this is the first superhero film I see that is purely, unmitigatedly driven through vicious emotion and provocative, searing content. This film has so many cogent statements and allegories of black power, black culture, and black progression, sometimes expressed in straightforward, bold lines or through scraping, biting humor.

Consider a scene where Okoye dons a wig to look casual when on the trail to find Klaue. She says to Nakia, "I can't wait to get this thing off my head," celebrating black hair, or in her case, no hair, and attacking not just the stigma of black hair, but those who actively attempt to smother, forcibly conceal, and outwardly sublimate their natural style for cultural acceptance and to abscond ridicule. Or how about another scene where Erik Stevens, a white CIA officer who ends up allying with T'Challa, is barked at by an African tribe, identically to how blacks were barked at by...you see where I'm going with this. That specific moment is one of the most brazenly brilliant scenes I've seen in the MCU, in black cinema, and in all of cinema.

It's also enlightening, albeit completely applicable, that the superheroism of this universe is not a gross, lucky error or some horrid permutation, but actual power; a standard to strive and aspire for. It's not something to conceal or employ as a gimmick for an alter ego, but something to embrace and exhibit loudly and proudly and also is embedded intrinsically.  However, there is one theme that is conveyed both naturally and allegorically: black loyalty. This film seems to abhor betrayal on all parts: Killmonger's betrayal toward the protocol and structure of Wakanda, T'Chaka and N'Jobu's betrayals toward each other as brothers, and T'Challa's betrayal to the outside, indigent world. 

The film doesn't impugn radicalism, nor it is solely about finger-wagging at T'Challa for its seclusion and excessively stringent preservation of Wakanda, but it is moreso about finding the middle ground that preserves our bond. Destruction in the name of black grievances isn't inherently wrong, nor is a self-aggrandizing appreciation of black power, but either way, it is imperative to understand the source; the source of the destruction and the source of your acquisition of power, and determine whether or not you're justifying either. It's the ones who stand with our black brothers and sisters unconditionally that contribute to our progression and our incipient, ferocious strength.

The notion of understanding the source is, in my opinion, best conveyed in the first scene involving the Ancestral Place, which is, oddly enough, my favorite scene of the film. T'Challa enters the gorgeously, serenely dark Ancestral Place and is first confronted by the ancestors existing as black panthers. Again, how evocative and symbolic! Standing awestruck, face-to-face with black panthers who have to confront and fight the same struggles for generations and possess an almost melancholic, watchful alacrity for the next Black Panther to carry the torch. He then converses with his recently deceased father, who states, "A father's job is to prepare his child for his death. Have I failed you?" I've never cried at a movie before the half-hour mark and I still haven't, but this was the closest I've come to it. It is the apex of this film's masterful integration of content, emotion, and visual marvel.

On that note, let's talk about what keeps those butts into those seats. The visuals and action sequences are some of the most sprightly, rousing, and vivacious to ever exist in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The universe of Wakanda is one of the most vivid, captivating, and awesome settings ever portrayed on screen. When Wakanda shows any portion of its universe, you are locked in, continually impressed by this self-sufficient universe, crammed with surprises, yet always functioning and portrayed as a world filled with culture, nobility, and veneration. It's the most embracing, congratulatory, stately expression of Africa in pop culture since...shit, The Lion King?

The battle scenes are all marvelous, as well. While it's easy to immediately draw attention to the climactic battle scene or the stakes-driven, motive-fueled duels, my favorite is the casino fight, solely because a portion of it is done in ostensibly one continuous shot. This could seem dull and dissonant if done incorrectly, but the way the camera glides, rotates, and swerves up, down, and around is utterly immaculate. I feel that several Oscars should be in order for this film, obviously in visual design, but also for set design, costume design, lighting (why not), and for cinematography.

I personally would also give an Oscar nod to the score, a.k.a. the greatest superhero movie score ever! Move over, Williams! Take notes, Elfman! Hear it and weep, Silvestri! Ludwig Goransson has crafted, as of writing this, the most sweeping score of 2018, marrying a standard orchestral score with beautiful, percussive African soundscapes and hip-hop sensibilities. Of course, at the marketing center of this film is a pulpable soundtrack produced by hip-hop's Black Panther, Kendrick Lamar.

Kudos to director/writer Ryan Coogler, for not merely having a knack for timing and for effective storytelling, but also for talent. Not only does he reunite with Goransson, but also with Michael B. Jordan, portraying Killmonger. He and all the actors deliver potent, gripping, gut-wrenchingly nuanced performances. I honestly loathe that Killmonger is being marketed as the villain, because Jordan portrays him not as villainous, but as lost and as sincerely ardent for change; as someone who wants to repair, which he was not given the luxury of. Chadwick Boseman owns this role as Black Panther, being flexible and malleable to handle the nuances and gravitas, but also genteel and confident enough that he typifies what power is, in more ways than one.

Lupita Nyong'o plays it straight more-or-less as Nakia, but her presence is one with ripe with bonhomie and a sweet nature that you can't help but admire her. She exhibits enough valorous hope to inspire change, yet never intrudes on anyone else's sensibilities because she doesn't need to. She singularly empowers herself. Danai Gurira is ferally effective as Okoye, display doughty, steadfast, warrior sensibilities and a pitch-perfect comic timing. Oh, and remember when I discussed Get Out? Well, I'll be damned if this film and Get Out share an actor: Sir Daniel Kaluuya. I recall stating in my Get Out review that I was uncertain as to whether his performance was star-making. I guess I was right, but hell, if it means seeing his chill, charismatic smile in more movies, that's all I really need.

This film is not escapism. Escapism is just that: an escape; a means of circumventing the wretched realities of the modern world. This film is here, forcing us to confront the ugliness and inescapable blemishes of our world. What begins as a superhero film unveils as a story of hope, but with an undercurrent of pessimism. It states that we can and should use power to forward and ameliorate the conditions of mankind, but as long as the need to sustain power exists, it'll truly never be without its kinks.

I honestly get ebullient, thinking about a child of today growing up with this film yearly. As is, he'll see the visual flair, the epic narrative, and he'll hunger for that extra action figure, but I can't wait for that boy/girl to become a man/woman and can finally comprehend it. I don't know if we'll have another Black Panther or not, but to me, it's crucial that we don't. Let's not undermine the importance of this film, a film that manages to both conform to and evade the confines of being a sheer popcorn flick with numerous marketing potential. Once the magic of those toys are relocated elsewhere, the magic of this film will stick around. It sure has for me, earning the ranking of being my favorite superhero film of all time and being my favorite film of 2018 so far.

So yeah, Marvel. On behalf of all black people, you're welcome.

RATING: Four out of four stars!