Movie Review: “Black Panther” Isn’t Quite As Revolutionary As The Movement After Which It’s Named

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T’Challa, after the death of his father, the King of Wakanda, returns home to the isolated, technologically advanced African nation to succeed to the throne and take his rightful place as king.

What are DC/Marvel films, exactly? Are they reflections of our tumultuous times, the superheroes our modern gods, embodying our hopes and dreams of a united civilization? Are they parables on humanity’s continuous war with itself? What genre are they, exactly? While, say, “Iron Man” or (Christopher Nolan’s) “Batman” lean towards science fiction and thriller territory, “Deadpool” and “Guardians of the Galaxy” could be considered comedies, and the campy “Thor” or “Wonder Woman” are more like fantasies, taking place in different realms and dimensions. Underneath all those glossy veneers, it all boils down to a simple three-act structure: 1) hero/villain/McGuffin (re)introduction; 2) obstacles faced to get to the Ultimate Showdown; 3) the Ultimate Showdown.

Both studios desperately and unsuccessfully try to create tangible cinematic universes with intertwined storylines, where all the characters connect – DC falling behind recently with their apocalyptic misstep, “Justice League.” As the films get more bloated, they attempt to incorporate traces of wit and character development, by way of hiring visionary independent directors and handing them budgets 50 times the size of their previous feature, with the hope that their auteur brilliance will shine through. They admirably try to incorporate zeitgeist themes like those of political unrest (“Captain America; Civil War”), feminism (“Wonder Woman”), 1980s nostalgia (“The Amazing Spider-Man”) and now, with “Black Panther,” racial equality. (They seem to only manage one or two at a time though.) Marvel hired Ryan Coogler, the young black filmmaker behind indie darling “Fruitvale Station” and the small (by Hollywood standards) Rocky follow-up “Creed,” to direct and co-write this multi-billion Marvel enterprise.

Kudos to Coogler for at least including a semblance of an original story, pedestrian as it may be, and not making the film JUST about social injustice, or what it’s like being transgender, or the throes of French-Polynesians, etc. T’Challa (an earnest but (or hence) forgettable Chadwick Boseman) succeeds his father as King of Wakanda, an Atlantis-like nation hidden from view in Africa by some sort of a shield thing and run on ultra-special Unobtanium/Adamantium-like metal/energy thing, the name of which I forget and is frankly irrelevant. What’s relevant is that Wakanda wants it all to itself, while the magical metal/energy thing could potentially solve all the third-world problems. In comes Erik Killmonger (Coogler mainstay Michael B. Jordan, beefed up, making for a slightly more compelling villain than the standard norm). He claims that he’s the true successor to the throne, his arguably commendable goal being to help the prejudiced stand up against their oppressors with the help of the UnobtAmantium.

“Black Panther” has superheroes wearing cool costumes, pulling nifty digital stunts. It’s got commendable themes of prejudice and injustice, addressed with a blunt-edged Mjollnir-like hammer. It’s got action – but more interspersed, counting on its dramatic scenes to be as breathtaking as those of panther claws bloodlessly slicing flesh. (Bravo, Marvel, you’ve achieved the drama/action balance – only “bland” would be a more accurate word to define it than “breathtaking”; the pixelated thrill-bits are as dull as the dialogue exchanges.) There wasn’t a single moment I wasn’t expecting, a single line that made me well up with emotion or want to get up and cheer, a single adrenalin-pumping instant that resonated. To compare, I recently watched S. Craig Zahler’s “Brawl in Cell Block 99.” Featuring a searing Vince Vaughn performance and made for a millionth of “Black Panther”’s budget, the film is 100 times more entertaining, visceral, socially conscious, and memorable.

So what are Marvel films, exactly? They are repetitive cash cows, advertising machines, genre-less reflections of our collective consciousness, simplified to trendy themes, a few bright moments courtesy of their indie directors, increasingly slick (and increasingly appalling) special effects and the same damn narrative structure, over and over again. At least “Guardians of the Galaxy,” “Deadpool,” and the recent “Thor: Ragnarok,” acknowledge their own goofiness. The more overly serious and impassioned those films get – again, with the exception of Nolan’s trilogy – the more ridiculous they tend to seem.

It’s great that DC/Marvel films are now socially-conscious and all-inclusive. I appreciated that about “Black Panther,” I really did. Yet I had a hard time sitting through the same trite, “relevant” good vs. evil storyline, the same quips, the same campy visuals and solemn speechifying, the same beats, the same final battle – and the same freakin’ Stan Lee cameo. All power to the people, sure – just as long as those people aren’t cash-grabbing studio execs, capitalizing on trends.

In theaters Friday, February 16th