‘Wakanda Forever’ Is A Cinematic Grief Counselor

Two years ago, I traveled to Kenya for a short-term mission trip and while there, sadly a young man at one of the churches died. As I attended his funeral where hundreds of friends and strangers gathered to mourn, I realized that grief for a Kenyan is a community event—everyone shares the loss. 

The same is true in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, a story of another beautiful African nation trying to figure out a way forward after the death of their beloved king T’Challa (the late Chadwick Boseman). The whole nation feels his death and mourns him throughout the movie, in what becomes a fascinating story of how different people handle death. 

The film opens with Princess Shuri (Letitia Wright) desperately trying to find a last-minute silver bullet cure for her brother’s mysterious illness, only to realize she spent his last moments on earth in a lab and not by his side. She’s confused and restless. A year later, she hardly emerges from the lab, throwing herself into science—the things she can control—to numb the ache in her heart. 

Meanwhile, her mother Queen Ramonda (Angela Bassett) spent the time in the throes of painful grief while also trying to protect a nation with threats on every side. The Queen follows the traditions and rituals Wakanda has for the loss of one so close.

Angela Bassett as Queen Ramonda.

The two women’s different journeys after the sudden shock of losing T’Challa stayed with me. Grief stories are intriguing because of the way the personalities of those left behind change so drastically.

Here, the Queen becomes a ruthless statesman; the princess a joyless data addict filled with rage that may go off at any moment. The Queen’s path seems calmer and more peaceful at first. She allows herself to feel the full anguish of T’Challa’s absence but in the allotted time, she is ready to put the mourning period behind her. Shuri’s denial fuels an anger that eventually makes her want to burn the whole world. 

At first, the Queen can keep moving forward with her preferred way to grieve, until she is faced with another terrible tragedy. Then she snaps. The anger you saw in Shuri is made complete in the Queen. It does subside, but the lesson here is that grief leaves even the strongest among us fragile and vulnerable.

The beauty in this film for me was watching Shuri learn to yield to and deal with the unimaginable so that she could find a way forward, for herself and Wakanda, without reflexive anger and revenge dictating her every move.

Letitia Wright as Princess Shuri.

Americans struggle to know how to grieve well and though Wakanda Forever falters as a superhero movie, it may serve as a cinematic grief counselor. The artistry could allow audience members to feel their own losses in ways that feel safe, as though they are part of this communal grief, too, and, especially through Shuri’s journey, find some release from the pain. Just know going in to expect the grief journey more than the traditional superhero movie so it’s not overwhelming.