Should One Man Have All That Power?

Since I've started working for Black Nerd Problems, the feedback for my articles and even The Blog has definitely evolved. I get my share of trolls just like everyone else, but for the most part, I like you people. Even when you don't agree, you get it. But there's always a bit of an oddball that just has to stand out. Recently, I received an email about an article I did a few moons ago on what the moral to a good Black Panther movie should be. One response I got (which my editor refuses to run and rightfully so because as well written and thought out as it is, the goddamned thing has a higher word count than War and Peace) was a letter to Marvel, griping about the direction in which they've taken the Black Panther in the past ten years or so. And yeah, it's totally valid to say he's been put through the ringer. He's lost his kingdom to his sister (by the way, I've never liked the way fans talk about that with this overtone that sounds a lot like misogynistic "you lost your throne to a girl" bullshit), he got divorced from Storm who moved onto a relationship with the dearly departed Wolverine. He became the keeper of the spirits of all Black Panthers before him and lost that. He's lost Wakanda thrice to Doom, Namor and Thanos. I get it. He's had it hard.

This section of fandom (because the guy who wrote the letter isn't the only one by a long shot) has a problem with this because the Panther, though an awesome, formidable hero, hasn't really been given a chance as a truly marquee character. They seem to think, as far as I can tell, that returning his throne to him and making him this indomitable Batman of sorts again will put him in the spotlight he deserves and...I don't know...maybe they think he'll finally be worthy of joining the Marvel Cinematic Universe in his own film (which, according to some, is on the way sooner than we think).

The author of said letter also seems to believe that the Black Panther falling from grace is some kind of hazing unique to him that other characters (I'm assuming via context that he means white characters) are somehow immune to. Even though it's understandable as far as kneejerk reactions go (after all, we live in a country where it's practically a federal case if Jennifer Lawrence's boobs leak to the web but not Jill Scott's), it's still wrong.

Tony Stark, as karmic penance for being a war profiteer, has a piece of shrapnel from one of his own bombs stuck in his chest. He's also been a booze hound who has lost his company at least twice in recent memory, lost his memory, been an enemy of the state and, recently, engineered superhero death machines that he doesn't remember making.

Captain America, the Marvel Universe's greatest champion, has been on the run from his own country, shot in the chest, and even renounced his name when he didn't like the direction the country was going in.

And these are two of Marvel's biggest franchises we're talking about here. If Marvel were to absolve the Black Panther from being put through a gauntlet in his heroic and personal life (and this is what Reginald Hudlin lost sight of during his run), you're opening your character up to becoming a Goddamned Batman where the problem becomes that you've allowed your character to become too invincible in the eyes of the collective consciousness. And when was the last time that was exciting? 300? I mean, sure it was cool watching the Spartans be tougher than basically every other lifeform on screen, but that was only cool because we all knew they were going to die by the end of the movie.

"Excuse me, but you're in the shot. They can't
get my abs clearly."

(Having said that, it would be awesome to see a scene in the Black Panther movie where T'Challa is one deep against a horde of mercenaries charging towards Wakanda, giving them work like Gerard Butler did in that one scene of 300. But I digress.)

I mean, just think about Cyclops. After the years of fanwhining about how boring and vanilla Scott Summers was. Now, think about him finally losing his shit and, lately becoming the new Magneto. Who would have guessed that the Captain America of mutants would have turned into that wayward older brother who changes his clothes and rages against the machine to piss off his dead father figure? That's a much more interesting character!

It's natural to want the good guys to win. That's why comics are absorbed into pop culture so easily. No matter how cynical or apathetic our society becomes, we want to see someone triumph during those times when we don't think we can. Jerry Siegel's father was shot and killed in a department store robbery. When he created Superman, he was giving birth to the kind of hero he wished could have saved his dad, a hero who would never let us down in those times when our friends, our jobs or our justice system does.

But the connection between the hero and his/her reader can't always be so simple. Otherwise, the audience starts to resent the hero in the same way you hate hearing "I know how you feel" from your friend who gets all the pretty girls in high school. The greater the test put before your hero, the louder we cheer when they see their way past it.

Moral of the Story: It's not about the fall. It's about the climb back.