Carlos Bastarache: marvel-grid-uproxx

Marvel

There is so much to adore about Black Panther that it’s easy for any piece about the movie to become a love letter to Ryan Coogler’s epic vision of Black empowerment. The costuming, the actors (Winston Duke out here proving thick thighs save lives), the writing: it’s all first class (not to be confused with X-Men: First Class, which is first class in name only). Black Panther is a near-perfect superhero movie, one that requires multiple viewings to fully appreciate in its incredible detail and nuance. And more than a great origin story, Black Panther also works as a jumping off point to open up conversations about equality and the legacy of colonialism. Can a movie full of Bugatti spaceships and magical power necklaces really be the venue to spark deep discussions about African colonization and the legacy of chattel slavery in the Western world? You’d better believe it.

That might seem incredible if this wasn’t already the Marvel brand.

Black Panther has launched a million think pieces, from ruminations on the Black diaspora in The Atlantic to Bossip’s editorial about the inherent misogyny in Erik Killmonger’s characterization. Black Panther provokes reflection and develops its characters and story through the lens of social commentary. And while some may see that as a new twist in a Marvel movie, (right now fanboys have their favorite track “Ugh, Don’t Make It About Social Justice Just Give Me a Great Story, Bro” on loop) this discussion of deeper social issues has been part of the fabric of Marvel’s films for quite some time.

Marvel has been quietly baking concern with equality and the social good into its movies since the Marvel Cinematic Universe began with 2008’s Iron Man. Black Panther isn’t a deviation from that path. If anything, it is a perfect distillation of the Marvel brand: a quirky superhero action movie that asks complicated questions about our humanity and our larger moral responsibility. It’s an approach that, when it works, works extremely well. And when it doesn’t, it is the actual definition of a hot mess.

It doesn’t take long to realize that Black Panther is asking some big questions of both its viewers and its characters. Questions about the obligation of developed nations to help their less affluent neighbors, about the legacy of colonialism (brilliantly encapsulated in a museum scene in which the antagonist asks about the African artifacts on display), and about the legacy of the Middle Passage and the African diaspora drive the action and the plot. There is never a moment where viewers aren’t asked to think beyond the events on the screen and to consider the injustices of colonialism or the modern day impact of slavery. It’s a philosophical conversation often heard in academic and social justice circles, the question of whether it is better to dismantle white supremacy — also known as the master’s house — with the tools of the master or by developing new tools. Now, thanks to Black Panther, this conversation has found itself journeying down new avenues, widening the dialogue in meaningful ways. Marvel using such a fraught issue to build a movie might seem risky, unless you happen to look critically at other entries in the MCU.

Black Panther isn’t the first movie to generate such discussion. Last year’s Thor: Ragnarok featured similar conversations about colonialism and conflict-induced post-traumatic stress disorder.

Valkyrie, one of the central characters in the story, is haunted by the memory of a traumatic battle. She befriends a permanently hulked-out Bruce Banner who is having difficulties of his own following the events of the Avengers: Age of Ultron. Hela, the antagonist, is trapped in a cycle of conquest because it’s all she knows, and Thor, the central character, is ripped away from everything he knows and dumped into a society that closely mirrors that of Ancient Rome with its flamboyant Gamemaster and dedication to spectacle. It’s here that Thor’s iconic hair is shorn in a move that echoes the treatment of Indigenous people forced to assimilate into the culture of their Western colonizers.

As in Black Panther, these questions of colonialism and the plight of veterans fuel the action. Hulk doesn’t want to fight injustice anymore because the battles of the arena are constant and predictable, unlike trying to save the world, whether that world be Earth or Asgard. Valkyrie fears returning to the site of her greatest failure. And Hela’s quest to make Make Asgard Great Again raises questions about conquest and nation-building. Thor has to come to terms with the history of his land and the actions of his father, the same way T’Challa must reconcile the actions of his father with his memory of the man he knew. (Okay, but seriously, an entire article could be written just about the men of the Marvel movie universe and their daddy issues.)

More than just a fun way to drive a story forward, Marvel’s use of larger societal issues can also be timely. 2014’s Captain America: Winter Soldier discusses the impact of government overreach in much the same way Black Panther discusses the plight of the African diaspora. Cap and Black Widow rush to uncover a HYRDA conspiracy reliant on data mining, a topic very much in the forefront of the public dialogue after Edward Snowden leaked classified information that revealed that the NSA and other government agencies were spying on private citizens in 2013. Winter Soldier’s discussion of government overreach and personal privacy directly tie into larger discussions, and in that same manner, both Ragnarok and Black Panther build their stories by drawing on issues already in the public dialogue.

And although Black Panther, Thor: Ragnarok and several other Marvel entries are open and consistent in their philosophical discussions, not every movie succeeds at folding its commentary into the larger story. In some of the previous MCU entries the social discussions, while there, tend to be fire-and-forget. The conversation in Doctor Strange around the obligations of the medical community to treat patients and the outlandish cost of medical care in and of itself is overshadowed by the cringeworthy quasi-Eastern magic taught by a “Celtic” Ancient One who is curiously obsessed with Asian-inspired trappings, including fighting with fans. Iron Man’s conversation on weapons proliferation is buried by Tony Stark’s low-key misogyny and overall douchiness. Captain America: Civil War’s ruminations on the rights of the public over the rights of the individual and the right of all to due process is engulfed by a superhero street fight. And Ant-Man’s dialogue on the prison industrial complex and the limited opportunities for parolees and prior offenders is never really addressed in any meaningful way, unless of course the message is “steal a super suit and become a morally gray hero.”

But the recent entries into the Marvel movie catalog provide hope that these were was just unfortunate misfires. And the increasingly successful nature of Marvel’s social commentary indicates that this will continue to be Marvel’s brand. Black Panther’s ability to weave social issues seamlessly into its story and character development feels like the culmination of more than ten years of moviemaking instead of an aberration, an indication that the studio has finally figured out how to fully incorporate big issues into fun superhero shenanigans. And if this is the case, this year’s Infinity War and Ant-Man and Wasp provide opportunities for Marvel to continue to provoke deep, philosophical discussions on society and humanity.

And, if they don’t, there’s always Black Panther 2.

Justina Ireland is the author of the YA book Dread Nation, available April 3rd from HarperCollins Publishers.