In a previous post, I lamented that women are so used to second-class status that even the mixed messages of last summer’s Wonder Woman seemed empowering merely because the superhero was female. Luckily, the creators of Black Panther, the latest installment in the Marvel super-hero movie franchise, did better. More than any other recent bit of media, Black Panther embodies equality and empowerment, most importantly for people of color but also for women.
What makes Black Panther utterly superior to Wonder Woman as a message of equality is that power is portrayed in myriad forms, in almost all cases wielded by someone who isn’t a white man. It is a super-hero movie, so raw physical power is frequently on display, but in a refreshingly egalitarian way. As the Black Panther, Chadwick Boseman performs with the appropriate sleek strength, but Danai Gurira is equally fierce and absolutely believable as Okoye, the head of the Wakandan special forces.
Additionally, the secrets of Wakanda’s power rest equally with mysticism and with science. The special abilities of the Black Panther are imbued in him via a heart-shaped herb, revealed centuries earlier by the Panther Goddess. It is an important nod to both the comic book origin story and the ongoing significance of myth and spirituality even in our modern world. On the other hand, the technological prowess of the Wakandan regime resides in the form of Letitia Wright’s irrepressible Shuri. Remarkably, when her role is challenged by Winston Duke’s M’Baku, it is her youth and lack of deference to tradition that he derides, not her gender.
While race is undoubtedly important to the film, with the exception of Michael B. Jordan’s Erik Killmonger, national identity is more important as a defining trait of the story’s characters. Although a major theme of the film is the naivete of such a conception in the broader world, it is inspiring to see familiar faces such as Angela Bassett and Forest Whitaker in roles where the color of their skin is at most a tertiary consideration in their characters’ motivations. They live in a society where power is based on other factors.
In a clever reversal of the norm, there is a token white guy, Martin Freeman’s Everett K. Ross. His character follows the stereotypical sidekick arc of being marginally helpful, doing something heroic that puts him in the position of needing existential help, and then gradually building grudging respect. One of the most hilarious scenes involves him being put resoundingly in his place by M’Baku and his men. It is also meaningful that the only unalloyed “bad guy” is white, played by an actor best known for disappearing into roles as non-human characters in Lord of the Rings and Planet of the Apes.
One of the fatal flaws of Wonder Woman as a symbol of equality has always been her creator’s vision of her as a persona who leads with love. As evidenced in the recent movie, this plays into the traditional stereotypes of women as sentimental and susceptible to the sway of passions, while men are stoic and conscious of a bigger picture beyond emotion. Black Panther corrects this, acknowledging the importance of romantic relationships without elevating them to the pinnacle of motivating dynamics. Wonder Woman offers universal love as the solution to what ails the world. With all due respect to Buddhism, that is unrealistic. Through the choices of Nakia and Okoye, and their influence on T’Challa, Black Panther proposes that a shared sense of civic responsibility is a better course.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has a TED talk discussing how she didn’t think growing up that she could write about people like her, because written stories were about white people. She calls it “the danger of a single story.” The filmmakers of Black Panther have created something that shows both young blacks and young women that there isn’t just a single story: the narratives they are accustomed to aren’t the only options. As I wrote this review, I struggled with both the characters’ and the actors’ names, recruiting Google to make sure I was getting them right. Hopefully the future brings mainstream exposure to cultures historically excluded, so that Nyong’o no longer sounds foreign and we all know without checking how to spell Okoye.