Phase Four of the MCU, the starting leg for the newfangled Multiverse Saga, has been a rather tepid affair. I freely admit that I have a lot of fondness for Phase Three, which is full of films I like, love, even admire for various reasons, and after the thunderclap of Endgame, there are some expected shortfalls in the fallout… but it still feels off. Nothing I would outright consider bad (which is more than can be said for Phase One and Two), but plenty of missed opportunities. One decent film (Shang-Chi), three disappointments (Black Widow, Doctor Strange, Thor), and two admitted greats (No Way Home and Eternals). Although it should be said that, at a time when the MCU is emphasising the varieties of the Multiverse, it says something when the two best films in this Phase had to go outside even that margin to find inspiration (past Spider-Man films and DC-era Jack Kirby respectively).
But then, that’s what I like the most about the original Black Panther: It thrives regardless of any connection to the larger franchise. While its story has some roots in the events of Captain America: Civil War, it doesn’t have the same serialised weight to it that can and has hindered other MCU films. If you go into it not having seen anything of the other films, you will still get its full impact one way or another. It is rather unique in that regard, save for the first Iron Man film retroactively, and it’s part of the reason why I hold Phase Three in such high regard: It was when more unique filmmaking voices started to weave themselves into the patchwork, and through that, allowed for stuff like this to exist. If any film in this Phase would be capable of escaping that rut, a sequel to Black Panther is it.
And thankfully, aside from obvious connections to the first BP film and a brief reference to Endgame, this follow-up holds onto that true standalone stance… save for some tragic real-world background info with the death of Chadwick Boseman in 2020. Much like with Paul Walker and Fast & Furious 7, this film mainly serves as a cinematic eulogy for one of its key actors, and it strikes a similarly heartfelt tone in that tribute. Both in front of and behind the camera, there’s this sense that the people working on it made real connections with Boseman, and the impact of his death went a bit beyond just ‘person we worked with once’. It opens with a funeral procession for T’Challa, with crowds of people decked out in white and dancing as his coffin is carried through the town. Mourning not just as sadness over death, but celebration of a life lived; given the reasons why Boseman wound up keeping his impending death from those around him, it seems like the way he’d want to be remembered.
Indeed, his memory and legacy form the core of this film’s narrative, which both echoes a lot of the original’s theological points while pushing the returning characters further along their respective arcs. Angela Bassett as Queen Ramonda especially hits the high notes with her performance here, balancing the grief of losing her son with the added responsibility of now leading Wakanda in a way that, hopefully, would follow T’Challa’s example. Lupita Nyong’o as Nakia, T’Challa’s widow, admittedly gets less to do here, but when it gets to how much her relationship with him meant to her… yep… yep, that’s me tearing up just from writing that.
And then there’s Letitia Wright as Shuri, T’Challa’s kid sister, technological whiz, and the beating heart of the story. Carrying guilt over her brother’s death, and struggling with the new crisis on the horizon, she ends up in a similar position to T’Challa himself as far as trying to decide what direction the kingdom should take from here. Her connection to technology adds to the returning ‘tradition vs. progress’ themes from the original, shown as a grieving tool and her own personal connection to Wakandan culture and legacy. The inclusion of Dominique Thorne as Riri Williams, AKA Ironheart, gives that a nice boost, along with connecting this to the franchise’s precedents for tributing fallen heroes.
But where Shuri shines brightest is when put next to this film’s… well, much like Killmonger in the previous film, calling Tenoch Huerta’s Namor the ‘villain’ is a bit oversimplistic. Both he and his domain of Talokan, a society of underwater-dwelling Mayans, are reflections of Wakanda in their isolationist ways, their technological advances combined with rustic lifestyles, and, ultimately, their reasons for wanting to strike out against the rest of the world. However, where Killmonger wanted revenge for the injustices happening beyond Wakanda, Namor is fueled more directly by fear for his people. As a result of T’Challa’s climactic decision to share his country’s wealth with the world, Talokan and its own veins of vibranium are on the brink of being discovered and… well, colonizers gonna colonize.
I should mention here that the way the residents of Talokan are visualised is… familiar. I mean, they’re a tribal people who spend a lot of time underwater and also have blue skin; comparisons seem rather obvious. However, to this film’s credit, I will say that I got more out of the depiction of their home than I wound up getting from anything on Pandora. Where a lot of Avatar felt like CGI-assisted sightseeing, the underwater villages and temples here look more like places where people actually… well, live. Making that kind of connection adds a lot to the tragic sense of dread at the thought of these people going to war, aided by Ludwig Gรถransson’s eclectic yet harmonious soundtrack. It sonically backs up the central idea that these seemingly disparate things can work together, but only with the right minds putting them side by side.
For in that conflict, between Wakanda wanting an ally and Talokan wanting a war asset, we come back to familiar notions of self-defence and how proactive one can be before it becomes all-out aggression. Both Shuri and Namor have experienced trauma as the result of outside forces interfering with their worlds, and both are near the breaking point where vengeance is all they can see. It’s here where the idea of this film as a tribute to its own main character goes beyond what F&F7 provided, and becomes proper thematic texture. While T’Challa’s direct connection to others makes up the bulk of the surface emotion here, it’s the weight of carrying on his ideals that forms the muscle underneath.
He fought for his people, for his way of life, for his land, and while he realised that his ways weren’t perfect (To quote Shuri, “Just because something works doesn’t mean it can’t be improved”), he took that on board and used it to become a better leader and hero. And in his wake, he continues to inspire others to work for the same goals. To fight for peace, not scorched earth and water.
While I can understand the nuances of the fan-led desire for T’Challa to be recast rather than killed off to mirror Boseman’s own passing (although I am nowhere near qualified enough to comment on them at length), I prefer to just evaluate the creative decisions that have already been made. I’ve seen too much nonsense in the DC film discourse to want to add to the growing audience insistence of dictating art from the sidelines.
But if this is the direction they’re going to take (unless they decide on a sudden resurrection, which wouldn’t exactly be out-of-character for Marvel), Ryan Coogler and company are at least going about it the right way. Wakanda Forever is a film that relies on attachment to character over mere spectacle (although, once again, the action scenes and world-building are solid as hell), and because the performances and writing are more than strong enough to deliver on that, it makes for the kind of wholehearted engagement that has been lacking from the MCU over this past year.
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