Black Panther
What could a Marvel Comics character rolled out in the ’60s in so obvious a grab at racial relevance as the BLACK PANTHER (I mean, come on; the name alone!) possibly have to offer a post-Obama, Black Lives Matter world? Only what fiction has always made possible: a way to imagine what might have been. In this case, in the story of the hidden, technologically advanced African nation of Wakanda and its king, T’Challa a.k.a. the Black Panther (a regal Chadwick Boseman), we can envision what might have come of a continent if it hadn’t been stripped of its riches, both human and mineral. We see a tale where the brown-skinned are front and center, as heroes (Lupita Nyong’o, Angela Bassett, Forest Whitaker, a kickass Danai Gurira, and winning Letitia Wright) and villain (the mouth-watering Michael B. Jordan), rather than relegated to background color or sidekick; a story that doesn’t shy away from its complicated issues of race. And yet, for all that, this is a typical Marvel superhero movie, full of action and fun, and completely accessible regardless of ethnicity. Afrofuturism lends BLACK PANTHER its distinctive swagger; but its vision of a people who are anything but anybody’s “shithole” makes for pure joy. Two modest postscripts. –YSM
“Postcripts”? I want to know what you’re wearing!