This week, the CIHA Blog is taking advantage of our multi-sited positionality to provide a unique set of reviews on the blockbuster film, “Black Panther.” Yesterday, Gerald Acho (HIPSIR, Kenya) highlighted the importance of positive narratives about the continent given the long-history of portrayals of Africa as uncivilized and brutish. Today, we hear from Akosua-Asamoabea Ampofo, a Ghanaian studying film in the U.S. In spite of initial dismay and anger based on the trailer prior to the film’s release, Ampofo found the movie reflected important questions about African identity, diversity, and culture. She also highlights the importance of key female figures in the film, particularly relevant given the upcoming celebration of International Women’s Day this Thursday (March 8th). Stay tuned for a critical perspective of the movie from Minenhle Nomalungelo Khumalo in South Africa tomorrow and from our Ghanaian and Senegalese partners later in the week who also weigh in with their thoughts on the movie.
Black Panther: A Celebration of the Diversity of Living African Cultures
By: Akosua-Asamoabea Ampofo
When I first watched the trailer for Black Panther over the summer, as it interrupted the National Basketball Association (NBA) finals, I was beyond stoked. I was certain that this was going to be an epic movie. As the weeks drew nearer and more footage, stills and teasers filled our senses, I started to get a little bit anxious. The first thing that stood out for me was the accent. Hollywood has a way of giving its (very few) African characters the same accent. Whether they are from Angola or Benin, they all speak with a deep heavy voice, struggling to be completely articulate and so pronouncing every word with force. Chadwick Boseman’s accent didn’t surprise me, I had heard him in Civil War and shaken my head and moved on. With Lupita’s accent on the other hand, I did a double take. Why was she speaking with the prescribed Hollywood accent? Was she not a child of the continent? Had she not grown up in Kenya? I was disappointed. And then I got frightened.
Black Panther is set in Wakanda, the fictitious African nation that sits on a mountain of vibranium, the strongest metal known to (Marvel) man. With this metal, they have been able to build an empire so technologically advanced, the other countries in the world would be envious/ Wakanda has also never been colonised. Their resources and land were not exploited by colonisers. The lack of European influence has allowed them to grow and develop organically, the five major tribes living in harmony[1]. Aside from the (mostly) all black, multi-talented and award-winning cast, the celebration of African culture was being applauded by many. Some critics were calling Wakanda a vision of a futuristic Africa, with its cities and culture drawing inspiration from all over sub-Saharan Africa; the Basotho, the Ndebele and the OvaHimba, to name a few. If Wakanda was going to reveal itself by showing a little bit of Africa in one setting. Wasn’t this what we had been trying to avoid? A representation of African as one homogenous country with one big “African culture”? I watched the trailers again, unsure of myself, steeling myself for Black Panther to become the Coming to America of our generation, the only window Hollywood and many Americans had of countries on the continent (other than the poverty porn and civil war). I was ready. And then I became angry.
In the two weeks leading up to the theatrical release of Black Panther, two things happened that made me upset. The first and the less upsetting of the two: the music. I had seen that the official soundtrack of the film had been released. Kendrick Lamar was the title artist, featuring five times on a fourteen-track album. The Black Panther official soundtrack was sounding more like Kendrick and friends on a Damn 2.0 record. Surely, a continent full of gifted musicians could have featured on the African inspired film’s soundtrack? Guess not. The second thing that irked me was that I realised (once more) that for all the “we’re all Africans and can’t wait to go back to the motherland” I heard from African Americans in particular, not many really did care about the continent. That week, Jacob Zuma, PM of South Africa and Hailemariam Desalegn, PM of Ethiopia had both resigned. Morgan Tsvangirai, Mugabe’s biggest adversary, died of cancer and thousands of DRC citizens were seeking refuge in Uganda after renewed violence. Amid all this talk of black power, no one seemed to care about real issues on the ground. And then I saw Black Panther. All my expectations were defied.
Black Panther is a beautiful film (Shout out to Ruth E. Carter for exceptional designs). It was packed with the usual humour and action of a superhero movie and a hero finding himself. But for the African American and African people in the audience it was more than just an action movie with black characters; it raised a question we haven’t adequately addressed: What do you do with a displaced people with whom you share blood but no longer a culture? Ryan Coogler, the Director, does an amazing job of mixing the political with the personal, using his characters as motifs for a greater conversation about black kinship and identities.
Erik Killmonger is the nephew of the late King T’Chaka. He is of royal blood, on of Wakanda’s own, and yet when he come to the country as an adult, with one of their greatest enemies in a body bag, he is not welcome. As T’Challa, the king, and his crew try to figure out who exactly this man is, Shuri, the king’s sister and head of the tech research facility, out that while Killmonger has a War Dog tattoo, there is no record of him in the system. Agent Ross replies that it’s because he is “one of ours” [American]. To me, this scene reflected the complexity of Killmonger’s identity more than anything else. He has the DNA and markings of a Wakandan, but he is now as much an American as Agent Ross is. Of course, the complexity of Killmonger’s identity make his rage understandable. He is jaded and wants to use Wakanda’s resources to arm a revolution; his people, black people, have suffered enough. And yet Coogler makes a case against misplaced rage and the power of motives.
Nakia is a Wakandan spy and a close confidant to newly minted king, T’Challa. We first meet her while she’s on a mission abroad in Northern Nigeria where he has been captured along with other women by an unnamed militant group. Nakia shows compassion. She has seen the world and the troubles in it and she also knows the power her country has to make a difference. She suggests to T’Challa that perhaps it may be time to break away from their traditional isolationist view. She is the antithesis of Killmomger; equally determined but humble and empathetic. For me, she was the true hero, saving the Queen mother and Shuri while snagging the last bit of herb that later revived T’challa. T’challa’s own decisions to develop outreach programs were enabled in part by Nakia’s whisperings. That is not to say the contributions of other female characters are to be diminished. The strength, discipline and loyalty to the throne shown by General Okoye was exemplary. It wasn’t merely killing Killmonger that won the fight for T’challa and Wakanda, but it was Okoye and her determination to put state above self, in ending the bubbling civil war.
And T’Challa’s own powers would have been diminished had it not been for the revolutionary tech offered him by his younger sister Shuri, who was a complete delight to watch.
I realised that the things that I had been anxious about did not hold as much weight anymore. Wakanda showed and celebrated different cultures. It pulled its inspiration from living cultures and that shouldn’t be a bad thing. Of course, I would like to see more genuine discourse about issues on the continent, but it is not Black Panther’s job to do that. It is a Marvel movie at heart and not a condescend page from BBC Africa.
I watched Black Panther again a week later, and with all my anger, baggage and assumptions diminished, I enjoyed it even more. I do think there’s still a lot of work Hollywood needs to do with regards to representation of the continent. We need to see more African actors taking part in minor to major roles of characters that are from their homes. We more African stories to be told and more directors to lead that vision. We need to see more collaborations, like the film Lupita Nyong’o and Viola Davis plan on making. For Black Panther, for example, the official soundtrack for instance was an opportunity to see both African and American Hip-Hop artists united as one. We have a lot to do, but this is certainly a few steps in the right direction.
[1] Fair harmony. The Jabari tribe have exiled themselves, refusing to be ruled by the king but still they live rather peacefully
Featured image: L to R: Ayo (Florence Kasumba) and Okoye (Danai Gurira). Source: Marvel Studios 2018.
About the Author
Akosua-Asamoabea Ampofo is a Ghanaian studying film at Bryn Mawr College (USA). She is interested in telling untold stories and sharing new knowledge, and is working towards a career in filmmaking.