Beyond the spectacle of Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, a single truth rings out: Chadwick Boseman was deeply loved. Ryan Coogler’s Black Panther (2018), intended to be Boseman’s solo debut as T’Challa, was a rare cultural game-changer. The film marked the most expansive and mainstream representation of Black talent in front of and behind the camera. And Boseman stood right at its centre, a force of charisma and introspection.
Everything about this sequel – filmed in the aftermath of Boseman’s death in August 2020 – feels subsumed under a great shadow of loss. Wakanda Forever isn’t necessarily a film about grief, but every frame is draped in tender sorrow. We first hear the whispered tones of Shuri (Letitia Wright), T’Challa’s sister, as she vows to save her brother from an unspoken and sudden illness. Her inability to do so becomes her burden. Others in the film – his mother (Angela Bassett’s Ramonda), his love (Lupita Nyong’o’s Nakia), and his most loyal soldier (Danai Gurira’s Okoye) – carry their own. Grief is multicoloured in Wakanda Forever, processed through spirituality, denial, and rage. But each iteration of it is laced with real pain.
