Lupita Nyong’o | Fast Lane Film

About three years ago, Marvel announced a solo Black Panther movie. The news was met with enthusiasm, but the energy was largely confined to Marvel fans. Fast forward a couple of years later as buzz builds towards a Black History Month release date, and the masses have been whipped into a collective frenzy – myself included. I said that regardless of my opinion, I would be honest in my review of Black Panther. I told myself that I wouldn’t succumb to groupthink, as I admittedly did in my final grade of Moonlight. I needn’t have worried about that, because Black Panther met every expectation, living up to the hype in a dazzling display of Afro-futurism that left me swelling with pride. And while the film will undoubtedly appeal to a broad cross-section of viewers, there is something uniquely dope about Black Panther that resonates with Black folks particularly.

Chadwick Boseman (Marshall) returns as T’Challa, heir apparent to the throne of Wakanda after the death of his father King T’Chaka. Although the throne would seem T’Challa’s birthright, he still must compete for it, if challenged. In two exhilarating scenes T’Challa competes in tribal battle as inspired Wakandans look on, their shoulders rising and falling rhythmically in ritual witness to the spectacle. Untouched by European imperialism and Western civilization, Wakanda is a thriving bastion of technology due in part to its rich natural supply of Vibranium. Mined from a meteorite that landed thousands of years ago, Vibranium is used for everything from powering transportation to advanced weaponry. In fact, T’Challa’s younger sister Princess Shuri (Letitia Wright, The Commuter) has harnessed its properties brilliantly, unimpeded by Western ideals about traditional female roles.

T’Challa is an empathetic and even-tempered leader. He seems almost reticent to assume the throne, fueled by a sense of responsibility rather than hubris. He has lionized his father his entire life, but as Wakanda confronts new threats, T’Challa must contend with the harsh realization that T’Chaka had moral shortcomings that would prove dire. Enter Erik Killmonger (Michael B. Jordan, Creed), wayward son of Wakanda with questionable origins. He has aligned himself with Wakandan nemesis Ulysses Klaue (Andy Serkis, Star Wars: The Last Jedi), one of the few outsiders who are aware of Vibranium. Very few people know that Wakanda is a thriving epicenter of technology and innovation; most Westerners think it is a primitive, third world country, and it is that fallacy that has sustained Wakanda’s existence. People cannot colonize or exploit that which they do not know exists. But will T’Challa continue the path of isolationism that has sustained Wakanda until now, or will he step to the forefront of the global stage and reveal its greatness?

Black Panther was larger than life. I could fill page after page with praise for the entire cast, including writer/director Ryan Coogler (Creed), who gave the latest Marvel entrant an added layer of cultural significance while putting his signature Oakland twist on the story. He was my quiet favorite after his debut Fruitvale Station, but after pairing with Michael B. Jordan for a third time, the two are charting a relationship on par with DeNiro or DiCaprio and Scorsese. That may sound like lofty praise right now, but I think we are just scratching the surface. The film’s cultural impact cannot be overstated, and the power of film as a medium cannot be denied.

Marvel fans will enjoy the accurate interpretation of the Black Panther and his origins, while many Black moviegoers will recognize the film as a defining moment in the culture. The beauty, strength and power of African people was on glorious display throughout, and the film’s casting reflected a deliberate representation of beautiful, strong dark-skinned actresses like Lupita N’yongo (Star Wars: The Last Jedi) and Danai Gurira (All Eyez On Me) – a stark contrast to most mainstream movies. The film hinted at the greatness and untapped potential of the continent, and challenged its viewers with powerful themes that served as metaphors for the current state of our communities. At the risk of turning this review into a dissertation, I’ll conclude my thoughts by saying: Black Panther was flawless, and should be etched in the pantheon of Black cinema as required viewing.

Grade: A

12 Years a Slave conflicted me greatly before I ultimately mustered the mental fortitude to buy a ticket. Strength of content aside, I knew the film would be a difficult watch probably requiring ample Kleenex. Based on the biography of the same name, the film tells the story of Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor, Salt), a free Black man from New York who was abducted and sold into slavery in 1841. Director Steve McQueen (Shame) expertly crafts a horrific glimpse into a very ugly aspect of our shared American history. The graphic depictions of abject cruelty rocked me to the core, but the film is undoubtedly an amazing piece of work.

When the movie begins, we see Solomon as a slave already. Through flashbacks we learn that he was happily married with two children and that he owned his own home. He maneuvered through his environment with independence and comfort, which must’ve been a rarity for the day. A gifted violinist, Solomon often played his fiddle for White audiences at parties and other small events. His talents drew the attention of two transient musicians who claimed to be seeking an addition to their circus show. They convince Solomon to make a short trip to Washington to discuss the matter further. After dining with the pair and having a few glasses of wine, Solomon awakes a short time later to find himself shackled and chained. Overwhelmed with horror and disbelief, Solomon screams out for help, to no avail. He has been sold to a slave trader, and a frightening new reality is revealed. His life as Solomon Northup is over; he is now a fugitive slave named Platt and any reference to his former life will be met with swift and brutal consequences.

As a viewer, my sensibilities were assaulted throughout the course of the film. The indignities Solomon suffered after being sold into slavery were unfathomable. Any notions of modesty or basic human pride were stripped immediately, and I’ve never witnessed such a graphic depiction of the evils of the institution. It was difficult to watch humans treated as property or animals, and I had to avert my eyes several times. Children ripped from their mother’s arms, physical torture, psychological degradation and verbal humiliation were a daily way of life. Solomon in particular must have been decimated psychologically, having tasted freedom and knowing nothing of the perils of subjugation.

The film is sweeping, covering Solomon’s life as he is sold from a slave trader to a relatively benevolent plantation owner named Ford (Benedict Cumberbatch, Star Trek Into Darkness), and ultimately as he ends up in the hands of a slave master named Edwin Epps (Michael Fassbender, Prometheus). Epps was a man so evil that I imagine only Lucifer himself could have a soul any blacker. Fassbender was a monster, literally and figuratively. His cruelty is particularly highlighted in his treatment of Patsey, a striking young slave woman who has unfortunately garnered his sick affections. She is a thing to be possessed, perversely favored yet singularly tortured. Newcomer Lupita Nyong’o marks her silver screen debut in the role, and her performance was a revelation.

12 Years a Slave is an overwhelming film. I was overwhelmed watching it, and it is nearly impossible to dissect or encapsulate in a small blurb. Should you see it? Well, it’s an outstanding piece of cinema, but it’s not for the faint of heart. Chiwetel Ejiofor gave the performance of a lifetime. It was wrought with emotion and I believe that the actor laid himself bare, displaying astounding cinematic vulnerability. The psychological transformation he brought to life was mind-blowing. When we stand around the water cooler talking about movies and the actors “making noise” right now, his name needs to come up more frequently than it does. This was a tour de force performance. Director Steve McQueen has demonstrated an ability to elicit raw, soul-baring performances from his lead actors. He did it in Shame and he’s done it again. Aided by stark, austere cinematography and a visceral score, he brought the horrors of slavery to life in a manner heretofore unseen. Grade: A.

This article first appeared at Poptimal and was reprinted with permission.