Her Campus at U Ottawa acknowledges that we are located on the stolen and unsurrendered land of the Algonquin people.
I knew quite a few things about Black Panther: Wakanda Forever before I finally watched the film. I knew it was going to make me cry, so I came prepared: I didn’t put on any concealer, and I made sure there were tissues in my bag along with my movie ticket. I knew I’d been waiting four years to watch and experience Wakanda again, but a lot of things had changed since 2018, when the first installment was released.
What I didn’t expect was to tear up in the first five minutes of the film. I knew the movie would be emotional, but I was expecting an action film, true to Marvel movie form. I thought there would be thrill and adventure, and there absolutely was. However, what I also got was a movie that portrayed grief, loss, and healing in a way no other Marvel movie has.
The entire movie was a heartbreaking tribute to Chadwick Boseman, who passed away in 2020 from colon cancer. His death shocked and broke the world, as he hadn’t publicly spoken about his struggle, and instead chose to keep his illness private. Now, in this second installment, everyone—myself included—was anxious to see what direction the film would go in now that he was gone.
Marvel made it clear that recasting his character felt like the wrong move; Chadwick was born for the role of the Black Panther. There isn’t a person on earth who could match up to the way he embodied his role. Instead, Black Panther: Wakanda Forever focused on legacy and healing. Ryan Coogler, the film’s director, did a phenomenal job of representing the grief that audiences everywhere felt when Chadwick Boseman passed. He somehow represented what it felt like to finally get a superhero like us, from a culture like ours, and then have him taken away. He wrote a beautiful story of healing and forgiveness that was relatable and profound.
One thing that this film does right is representation. It’s been discussed time and time again how important it is to see yourself on screen, but it felt different in this movie. I think a lot of people would agree that representation can feel forced a lot of the time. Writers will condense as many minorities into one character as possible, make their entire storyline about being oppressed, and then cast every other character as they usually would. In Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, this isn’t even remotely an issue.
In this second installment, we find out what many had speculated already: Shuri, T’Challa’s younger sister, would become the new Black Panther. The characterization of Black women in this film brought me to tears—seeing female rage and grief without the discussion of oppression or the patriarchy was refreshing. I saw women being powerful, fragile, furious, heartbroken, intelligent, and everything in between. The movie is propped up by Okoye’s loyalty, Shuri’s determination, Riri’s intelligence, and Ramonda’s resilience. I have never seen anything like it, and I hope it’s not the last time I do. The way that Black women are shown in every form and are continuously in leadership makes it timeless.
This movie also introduces another aspect of representation: it portrays the nation of Talokan, which is inspired by Mayan and Indigenous cultures. Both communities, Wakanda and Talokan, while fictional, have given real people a sense of belonging that other movies haven’t been able to provide.
If you haven’t already seen Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, you’re missing out on something truly incredible. The cinematography, acting, script, and moral are unmatched. Its message of healing and grief was so relevant and well-told. Even if superhero movies aren’t your thing (which, they should be), watching the representation and incredible storytelling is unbeatable.