Black Panther Wakanda Forever Is a Thoughtful, Interesting Meditation On Grief
Up front, I’ll say this isn’t a review of Marvel’s Black Panther: Wakanda Forever. While I’ve thought about using this channel to talk Marvel shows and movies from time to time, there’s already plenty of noise about these properties. And I’m far from the most qualified or knowledgeable reviewer.
However, when it comes to Wakanda Forever, I did think the movie’s primary theme warranted a little more discussion.
[spoilers ahead for those that haven’t watched at this point]
It was no surprise to see grief at the center of Wakanda Forever. And even with so much pressure for the movie to nail that aspect, it does so deftly right from the jump.
Mirroring how most found out about Chadwick Boseman’s tragic passing, T’Challa’s off-screen death feels sudden and jarring. That fact, and the vagueness around what exactly leads to T’Challa’s demise, serves a distinct purpose of putting the audience into Shuri’s shoes.
Without knowing specifically what the character dies from, any viewer that has experienced loss is able to put themselves squarely into Shuri’s shoes. And the rest of the movie flows from there, as the audience takes on every emotionally resonant moment through her eyes.
That’s highly effective in the lows like the opening scenes of grief and sorrow, T’Challa’s funeral, Queen Ramonda’s passing and the powerful mid-credit reveal. But it also works very well in the more heated moments where Shuri’s grief is clearly affecting her in real and difficult ways that she was not yet willing to deal with.
I’d argue that grief overtakes Shuri to such an extent in the movie that she even becomes the villain for a third of it — a rare move for a film in the superhero genre, and one that Marvel hasn’t attempted much over the last 14 years. But through the excellent acting of Letitia Wright, great writing and impressive direction from Ryan Coogler, it works in a way that resonates directly with those that have been in Shuri’s shoes. You feel for her and empathize with her because at one point or another, you’ve been her.
I say this as someone who has lost someone very close to them without much time to process that fact in the lead-up or aftermath. And that’s why the movie had real poignancy for me, in particular, as I’m sure was the case for others that have experienced an unexpected loss.
In the four-plus years since I lost my brother, I’ve struggled with how to move on without feeling like I was moving away from his memory. There’s a delicate balance that most deal with after a loss, where you need to find a way to loosen your grip on their memory (and their memory’s grip on you) without losing it completely. That back-and-forth can be channeled positively, and in the best moments, it is.
But trending negative is also inevitable. And even those equipped with the tools to compartmentalize and/or process those feelings can slide into that behavior, and become the villain, so to speak.
I’ve been there myself, admittedly, even if not to the extent of Shuri (for obvious reasons). Her descent was fueled by unprocessed grief and the understandable struggle to balance her emotions in the wake of losing her own sibling. The final push toward would-be villainy was an effective use of Michael B. Jordan’s Erik Killmonger as one side of the grief coin (with T’Challa as the other).
Of course, Shuri snaps out of it before killing her adversary, Namor. But because you’re viewing the movie through her eyes, you’re not necessarily second-guessing her motivations as much as you would otherwise. Acknowledging that sort of turn can even happen to the “hero” of the movie is a relatively unique move for an IP blockbuster. And it makes her redemption and the final scene (even before the mid-credit reveal of Nakia and T’Challa’s son) that much more compelling for the audience.
That thorough examination of grief, even with the lingering superhero demands and Marvel machine, is what made it such an interesting watch. Coogler deserves a lot of credit for being able to channel his own grief and the grief of the cast into this film — all while balancing a ton of expectations, external demands and additional MCU needs.
While Marvel properties can seem like a conveyor belt at times, Wakanda Forever managed to be something all its own, and maybe even a movie that aspired to be something more than “just” a superhero movie. For me, at least, it’s why I appreciated it so much as I continue on my own lifelong journey in processing my own grief.
