I Can’t even write an indepth review of this without seeing it again (which I will tomorrow and again Saturday) because I’m so hype.
So many emotions man. This movie made me think about my father and everything he sacrificed trying to raise me to, not only be a productive member of society, but a black MAN who survived with a sense of cultural pride and integrity intact. The way Ryan Coogler paid homage to some of the African traditions and customs that my father used to tell me stories about made me FEEL like young Erik Stevens as his father told him stories about the wonders of Wakanda.
Just seeing Wakanda onscreen for the first time, with the Wakandans dancing and celebrating T’Challa as the new king was almost an overpowering sense of joy.
What people don’t understand (or I’ll say white People) is that we, as black youth, only had ONE cinematic hero we could call our own, and that was Will Smith. Blade and Spawn were mostly anti-heroes, badasses on Thier own right, but not something we would be encouraged to look UP to.
Will Smith gave us, as black boys, that bravado, that swagger, that charm, that confidence. From Independence Day to Hancock, he was our shining prince of heroism. But here, with Black Panther, we have true, unabashed, Black EXCELLENCE. From TOP to bottom.
There was no white mentor, no white wife. No white best friend representing the fact that they aren’t “all” bad. No white authority figure, and absolutely NO white savior.
This was blackness at the very core of Diasporan entertainment. It’s not meant to change the world, this isn’t Malcolm X or Do The Right Thing. But it’s THE film that can show our sons, our daughters, our nephews and nieces, that they too can be heroic. Can be beautiful, can be intelligent, can be majestic, can be MAGICAL.
Donald Glover once said that, at its best, Hollywood can serve as a vessel for telling the world’s most beautiful lies to children, so that they can grow up to change the world. Black Panther is fiction, there is no mystical city in Africa that went untouched by white colonialism and can serve as a beacon for black supremacy.
But when your daughter sees Shuri for the first time, and all of the technological marvels that her genius created. When your son sees T’Challa, and all of depth, passion, and regality that is his very being. They can dare to dream that this ideal of black brilliance could be born of their own aspirations.
And that is the true Wonder of Wakanda. That we can build it piece by piece. And that fiction could one day become reality.