There have been many comparisons pitting this film against Batman vs. Superman, the consensus being that this film does well what Batman v Superman only tried (and failed miserably) to do. And although I’ll agree that Civil War was so much more well done than Batman v Superman, the two films did share one major flaw: The villains. This is not a gripe about Daniel Bruhl’s performance as Zemo. He was actually a delight to watch. This isn’t even a gripe about Zemo’s motivation as a villain. His reasons are believable, if a bit overdone (can we retire family trauma as a character motivator for awhile and do something more interesting?).
But his plan? His plan was beyond convoluted.
So here I am, an evil genius who has tracked down five badass super-soldiers. But do I actually use them to destroy the Avengers, my sworn enemies? No. I kill them and instead hatch a plan in which I get the Avengers to fight and hopefully destroy each other.
Wait, what?
But that’s neither here nor there because there’s this one moment I want to discuss. This one seemingly unimportant, tiny part of the film that really stood out for me.
It centers on (you guessed it) T’Challa, everyone’s new favorite big, black cat.
I could do a whole other post about the perfection that was Chadwick Boseman’s performance as Black Panther, but many have already done so, and I echo their sentiments wholeheartedly.
The scene I’m talking about plays out like this:
Zemo is alone on a mountain, sitting at the edge of a cliff. His plan had been carried out and, as far he knows, he’s been successful. He’s ready to off himself when up strolls T’Challa ready to exact a mighty and regal vengeance.
And we, too, are so ready for it. But then something else happens.
T’Challa reflects. He sees that our villain is just a hurt person (what’s that they say about hurt people?). He starts to see that killing Zemo gets him nothing; it certainly won’t bring his father back. He decides to be the bigger person, to take the high road, at the exact same moment the rest of the Avengers are fighting and ripping each other apart, destroying their faction from the inside.
Why is this moment so important? Because it directly contradicts the dominant narrative surrounding the nature and essence of the black man.
We are told over and over again by the media and by the pundits that black people, particularly black men, are inherently more violent, as though we are biologically predisposed. It’s how they justify shooting us in cold blood in the middle of the street in broad daylight. We were ‘posing a threat,’ they say.
We know that isn’t true, however (and there’s also the fact that there are no actual numbers to support the theory). Black people are not more violent than anyone else. What we are is more policed.
The Avengers chose to fight. Black Panther chose to love and to seek a higher form of justice. This might surprise some (those who buy into the narrative for instance), but it doesn’t surprise us. We see heroes like T’Challa every single day in the ordinary black man. We know, better than everyone else, all about the seemingly unending capacity for our people to love and to forgive. To do right and to seek justice over vengeance.
And I, for one, think it’s past time someone told that story on the big screen.
