The Revolution Has Been Televised
To be very honest, this IS NOT a review on the cinematic and revolutionary Box Office phenomena that is Marvel’s, The Black Panther. Nonetheless, there might be some spoilers contained in this article, so if you have not yet taken that journey to the Land of Wakanda, PLEASE STOP READING NOW!! Otherwise, buckle up and enjoy this introspective view of this superhero smash.
From the beginning, director Ryan Coogler and team make it clear that we will be watching a black superhero fully in control and completely occupying the center-stage spotlight. In Captain America: Civil War, the Black Panther is a vibrant figure who sets a tone and fills a void left in the group of conflicted super friends. However, the trailers still-shots that preceded his stand-alone film debut show a young man with the arrogance of Samuel L. Jackson's Shaft, the cool, shyness of Andre 3000 and the rage induced recklessness
of Chris Brown. This T'Challa is relatable, inspiring and most importantly, human. "I think the question that I'm trying to ask and answer in Black Panther is, 'What does truly mean to be African?'" the filmmaker recently told Rolling Stone. "The MCU has set itself in the real world as much as possible – so what does it mean for T'Challa to move around as this black man in a movie reality that tries to be a real world?" To me, it meant that after decades of trying to accurately create the true Black Image in superhero form and missing the mark ever so slightly, we are finally doing just that – and in the immortal words of LL Cool J: "Doin' it, Doin it, Doin' it right." Alas, the journey has not been without effort. These most often-stereotypical Black films of the 1970s gave our people their own heroes: Shaft, Cleopatra Jones, Coffy, Dolemite and one of my personal favorites: Foxy Brown. They were urban avngers, detectives, nurses and ex-cons that waged politically charged wars against the powers that be, drugs,
gangs, and corruption – one-man and in some cases one-woman hit-squads operating against the real-world political backdrop of the then, Nixon Administration’s "law and order" campaign. Every so often, movies like Shaft Goes to Africa, where Richard Roundtree wears an African dashiki and is equipped with a large unassuming staff that's a piece of advanced tech, and Dolemite (that feathered hat and flashy pimp-style outfit) had their "heroes" don like costume-like outfits and become completely over-the-top
and different personalities to seek justice.
These black Kings and Queens did not back down when it came to danger, "Whitey" or guns; the smooth and effortless fusion of sexuality and sheer dopeness they exuded on screen made most audiences fall in love with them. To say that the journey varied among these stories of fighting the man would be putting it lightly. In retrospect, you see how this Golden Age of Black Cinema influenced a multitudinous number of black people, both young and old, musicians, and artists by creating and focusing on a profoundly Afro-positive image, as well as spawning a legacy that can be seen
in all areas encompassing Black Culture from Hip-Hop and R&B to stand-up comedy. And though the Black Panther first appeared during the Civil Rights era (there actual comic issues where he fought the KKK), the main wave of black superheroes that followed have mainly been more recent – the likes of Storm, of X-Men fame, DC Comic's Black Lightning, Marvel's Luke Cage, the Falcon – were the children of this profound Black Cinematic age. They just weren't getting the screen time they so deserved. AT ALL.
The Nineties and the early 2000s brought attempts to make black superhero movies that tended to play like Blaxploitation-lite films, covering the spectrum from intentionally hilarious (1993's Meteor Man and 1994's Blankman) or hilariously bad (Spawn, 1997) or the not so bad but bad enough (Steel, starring Shaq, released in 1997). Many of which were usually comparable to most of the more streamlined white superheroes like Superman and Batman at best, and a one trick pony at worst. There was one exception that completely changed the game for Blacks as superheroes on the big screen, which came in the form of a mixed bred vampire hunter clad in black leather played by Wesley Snipes. Its name was Blade, the first movie in a series about the not so It was critically embraced, commercially successful ($333 million in box-office receipts) and a high-water mark for an obscure superhero character in from an obscure comic book horror series. The franchise ended on a bad note (Blade Trinity, Wesley Snipes incarceration) – but it also provided the very blueprint for what would become Marvel Studios' eventual MCU pop-culture takeover.
Even with critical and commercial success of Blade, Hollywood still didn’t see it as being enough to put more top-tier films about Black heroes on the silver screen. We as a people had to be satisfied with Ms. Berry's and the most recently Alexandra Shipp's African-born mutant super-SHEro Storm, Anthony Mackie's Falcon, Terrance Howard-turned-Don Cheadle's War Machine (I'm still amazed at the fact that more people didn't make a big deal about this) – all very strong performances that still seemed more like runner-up’s to the mainstream characters they shared the screen with. Hollywood grapevine chatter pondered if Will Smith could play Captain America and Donald Glover using Twitter as way to be cast as Spider-Man (Miles Morales); incited sheer panic and widespread backlash from the white mainstream fan-base.
California bred rapper, Nipsey Hustle had some profound thoughts words to share about the Black Panther movie. During an interview with Hot 97's Ebro in the Morning for his debut album, Victory Lap press tour, he dropped some serious knowledge on how the Black Panther cinematic story relates to gang culture:
“There are so many layers to that movie. It reminded me—and not in aesthetic, at all, but just in dynamic—it reminded me of Get Out [the movie] there’s layers to that movie, bro,” [...] “[Ryan Coogler] spoke to some real ****.”
Nipsey went on to talk about parts of the storyline that reminded him of gang life, specifically when it came to the character of Erik “Killmonger” Stevens (play by Michael B. Jordan).
“I remember there was a line saying, like, ‘I know the game of my oppressors’ game,’ […] and the other dude was like, ‘Nah, man, you’re using the same game that they used on you against your own people.’ That’s so real. That’s gang-banging,” Nipsey said at around the 20:50 mark in the video below. “As a gang banger, when you go on a mission, when you’re looking for your so-called enemy […] you’re gonna pass up a dude who’s dressed square. You’re gonna pass up a dude from a different race, but when you see someone that’s dressed like you dress, got the walk that you got, and got the body language like you, you’re gonna say, ‘There you go. Get him.’ And that’s deep […] You’re looking for yourself on the other side of town, and you’re gonna hop out and try to attack him.”
Much like how Nipsey shares his view on he impact of this movie derived from his own life expiriences Coogler has done something similar. Ryan Coogler has set out to create the Black superhero in such a way that all former versions have failed to: making it honorable, visionary and solidly powerful. The Afro-punk and Afrofuturism aesthetics, the unapologetic black swagger, the miniscule appearances from non-black characters – it's an important resetting of a standard of what's possible around creating a mythology for a black superhero. The trailers show a different and innovative way of depicting not only superheroes of olor, but also how we imagine our heroes. He's not the comic relief or the funny additive. He's not a lackey or created because the main hero wasnt able to be. His story, one of deep-seeded inheritance, regality and legacy a clear and evident difference for how we usually to treat most black superheroes and their movies. The novelist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie talks about "the danger of a single story" – about Africa, about black brilliance, our humanity and the black experience for too long. There will never be a time not now or later in history when this movie's creation wouldn't mean something to black people across the nations of the world in particular, and the innate backlash that this movie will receive for its celebration, existence and confidence in blackness will be a reminder that there are no new dialog, just new opportunities to let us of who we are, collectively. That won't matter because the people this movie will speak intimately to a rainbow-coalition cross-section of black comic book readers, African-American movie audiences, black-culture connoisseurs and pop-culture nerds, all who will see something of themselves in this movie. Most will likely be both well acquainted and impervious to the pure hatred it will receive for just being made. Just as all things non-white in America and across the world for that matter, Black Panther will be politicized for showcasing its pride for its blackness, for existing and for proclaiming that it has the right to be here and to be heard.
Nipsey Hussle Breaks Down Gang Culture + How Africa Changed Him
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