Marvel works its black magic
Groundbreaking superhero flick a solid outing
It has been 20 years since we saw Wesley Snipes fighting vampires in Blade and 10 since Will Smith’s turn as the foul-mouthed Hancock, which means it’s time for another superhero movie with a central black character. (No, Michael B. Jordan in the 2015 Fantastic Four reboot doesn’t count, because that movie doesn’t count. It doesn’t even count to four.)
Black Panther is that movie, but it’s something different too — a step up. For starters, it’s the first mainstream superhero film to feature a black director — I said mainstream, Meteor Man! Ryan Coogler was already a force, with his breakout debut feature Fruitvale Station in 2013 and his Rocky sequel Creed two years later.
It also has black writers: Coogler and Joe Robert Cole. And not only is the hero the leader of an African nation, (the fictional) Wakanda, he has a kick-ass all-female posse backing him up.
It’s also more proof that the best movies in the increasingly crowded Marvel and DC cinematic universes are the ones that tell individual stories. Wonder Woman was much more enjoyable than the busy Justice League and give me a Thor/Hulk buddy movie over an all-Avengers melee any day.
As Black Panther/a.k.a. T’Challa, Chadwick Boseman (Get On Up, 42) has two battles to fight. On the one hand, a one-handed South African arms dealer, played with ferocious, over-the-top glee by Andy Serkis, has stolen an ancient Wakandan artifact made of vibranium, which is more valuable than platinum, more powerful than plutonium and has more uses than plastic. On his heels is a CIA agent played by Martin Freeman, mangling his U.S. accent but otherwise nicely filling out the role of token white guy.
T’Challa also has problems at home, not least that there are powers that desire to overthrow his reign. There’s Winston Duke as the leader of a warrior tribe. And Michael B. Jordan plays Erik Stevens, a.k.a. N’Jadaka, a.k.a. That Would Be Telling. Suffice to say he has a grudge against Wakanda’s ruling family.
On the side of the angels, Daniel Kaluuya (Get Out) joins the cast as T’Challa’s best friend, W’Kabi; and Lupita Nyong’o is Nakia, part of Wakanda’s Valkyrielike female warrior caste, and T’Challa’s former girlfriend to boot. Finally, Letitia Wright plays Shuri, T’Challa’s little sister and head of his research and development department. There’s a scene straight of an old Bond movie in which this latter-day Q shows her brother the latest version of his Black Panther suit. Its nanotech skin stores and then redirects kinetic energy, so whatever doesn’t kill him literally makes his stronger.
Black Panther is a solid outing, serious without being ponderous. There’s a crazy car chase in which T’Challa chooses to ride on the car rather than inside it and a less satisfying drone battle late in the film that feels like so much CGI padding. And hats off to Sweden’s Ludwig Goransson for a powerful, drum-heavy score.
There’s also a fair bit of dialogue that speaks to the modern world: Wakanda’s leaders have solemn discussions about whether their country should do more to help the rest of the Earth with its refugee crises and other problems. I’ll consider this movie a true success if a certain world leader adds Wakanda to his African gazetteer, alongside Nambia and Tan-Zany-a.
For now, between Black Panther’s Black Lives Matter subtext and its use of female characters as more than window dressing both in front of and behind the camera (the cinematographer is Rachel Morrison, the first woman to be Oscar-nominated in this category, for Mudbound), it seems as though Hollywood has, for one shining moment, caught up with the real world. Now the trick will be staying there. cknight@postmedia.com