Mometimes real, tragic events influence the tone of a feature film. Such is the case with Wakanda Forever, the sequel to the 2018 Marvel blockbuster Black Panther. Chadwick Boseman lent his face to this Black Panther, the first black Marvel superhero, infusing the character with authority, fighting spirit and diplomatic gentleness . He was a great actor, one wished for many more appearances, not only in the Marvel cinema universe.
But he was not granted much time: in 2020, at the age of 43, he succumbed to a serious illness. His sudden death shocked fans and fellow actors alike. Panther director Ryan Coogler considered quitting his job altogether. The fact that he shot the sequel after all meant that he could not leave the death of his friend uncommented in the film either.
And so Black Panther: Wakanda Forever begins with news of the death of the hero who ruled the African fantasy land of Wakanda as King T’Challa. A long mourning ceremony follows and a title sequence montage, in which this time the Hulk and Iron Man do not cavort on the Marvel characters, as is usual in these films. Instead, snippets of Boseman’s performance in the first film, bathed in purple, are shown as he was remembered: young, radiant, dignified. There is no music, only the wind blows softly.
What could easily have slipped into the pathetic is arranged by Coogler into a linchpin of the film. The pain of losing her brother will accompany the scientist Shuri through the 160 minutes and motivate her actions. Because a large part of the responsibility for Wakanda now rests on their shoulders. Letitia Wright gives the role the seriousness of a Shakespearean character: she quarrels with fate, curses the world and challenges the ancestors.
As a princess, her shuri was already not a woman awaiting rescue. As soon as she learns that her brother’s life is in danger, she spends the last hours not at his bedside but in her laboratory, struggling to save him with the help of technology, abbreviating the commands to her helpers to desperate ellipses. And then she has to realize that she is powerless against some things. Out of that pain comes great anger. “If I allow these feelings, I could set the whole world on fire,” she tells her mother at night, who has taken her to mourn by a pond in the bush.
From those same waters emerges the real challenge of this film: a man believed by his people to be a god who can breathe underwater and fly on land. Small wings grow out of his heels, which he seems to have borrowed directly from the Greek messenger of the gods, Hermes. Namor, the creature’s name, leads a nation of blue underwater people who have lived peacefully and isolated from the rest of the world.
