Hollywood has a great way of destroying anything it fears: like a virus approaching its victim cell, it sidles up to it and appears to support it, all while subverting it from within by injecting its own infectious DNA of pacifism, neurosis, vice, and resentment.
Such is the case with Black Panther, a movie that is mostly annoying because when the superhero movies come out you know that your society has failed, which attempts to dominate black nationalism just as Hollywood convinced white nationalists to LARP around as sadistic social failure Nazis with films like American History X:
As the film opens, Boseman’s Prince T’Challa is returning to Wakanda, where he will succeed his father both on the throne and as the possessor of the powers of the Black Panther. (This is one of the few superheroes who is also a head of state.) What makes “Black Panther” unusual is that there are no personal hurdles our hero has to overcome; he’s ready, willing and able to inherit both titles, with no need to overcome hubris or fear or arrogance.
What does stand in T’Challa’s way are the harsh realities of politics and statesmanship, as he learns a dark secret from his father’s past that casts a pall over a land that is a paradise on Earth. Wakanda, you see, was built on the site where a meteorite made of pure vibranium (the metal from which Captain America’s shield was forged) crashed. It’s made the Wakandans technologically advanced, but they’ve kept their wealth and wizardry a secret from the world.
One of the most dramatic — and relevant — storylines the film explores is whether or not advanced societies owe it to the global community to share their discoveries rather than keep their bounty to themselves. (Or as one character asks, putting none too fine a point on it, do we build bridges or erect barriers?)
And there you have it. On the surface, the theme is masculine and strong: fight for your race, love your race, and build yourself a Wakanda. Underneath is the typical Hollywood subversion in that the encapsulating theme is that those who are powerful owe a duty to everyone else to share their power.
In other words, straight out of the French Revolution, tear down your kings and let the mob rule.
Hollywood subverts nationalism from its essential message, which is that there is no universal fellowship of humanity and that each group must go its own way, into its exact opposite, namely a message that every person can help every other and we can all be one big happy kumbaya in bourgeois oblivion.
I would not presume to tell nationalists of another stripe what to think or do — that is their own choice, and that choice is sacred to nationalists — but perhaps this example is clearer to European nationalists than one using our own people, in that we can see it from afar. Another movie to miss, perhaps.