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Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

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**½

My people call me K’uk’ulkan. But my enemies call me Namor.

Black Panther was a good movie that dealt with some issues that ran contrary to the don’t-rock-the-boat nature of the mega-blockbuster Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU). Wakanda Forever dared to ask, what if they rocked the boat even more, in a way that was really obvious and not particularly productive. The great actresses of the original cast gave well acted performances (Lupita Nyong’o, Danai Gurira, Letitia Wright, and Angela Bassett). Their varied roles and demeanors contrasted distinctly from the two polar opposites of masculinity in that film, from the toxic Killmonger to healthy T’Challa/Black Panther. There was very little T’Challa in this sequel, since Chadwick Boseman who played him, died in 2020. There was also very little Killmonger, whose character died in the first movie. The film acts as a tribute to the late Chadwick Boseman, and it succeeded insofar as it really made me think about him and miss him. Letitia Wright’s Shuri has the mantle of the Black Panther thrust upon her, both in the film’s plot and in reality. I found her struggle a little bit interesting, but also like an okay episode of Star Trek with technobabble and special effects pervading until there was a technological breakthrough.

The antagonists in the film are the colonizing forces who want to get vibranium from Wakanda and the Atlanteans who decide they want to join Wakanda in their fight, but not as an equal ally. Knowing that Namor would eventually turn into a future protagonist, as the Marvel villains sometimes do, it made the conflict underwhelming. One thing that upset me was at the end of the movie, when Wakanda has won (not a spoiler, it’s called “Wakanda Forever”), how the Wakandan leaders like Shuri act like “mission accomplished!” It’s the end of Return of the Jedi instead of Aragorn with his small remnants of armies at the first ending of Return of the King. it seemed so artificial and basically ruins the sentimental denouement where the film returns to the memory of Chadwick Boseman.

All told the film feels like just another Marvel movie, unlike the original Black Panther which felt fresh and different. It is not terribly shot or very shoddily acted, although at least one scene was really poorly lit. Where the Atlanteans came from was something I found interesting. I liked the changes from the comics, actually. I was surprised to see that Ryan Coogler directed and co-wrote this, as he did the original. Perhaps he was grieving and this was the best that he could do. After some disastrous comic book movies, “fine” was where the bar was set. But Marvel had a good run; Coogler had shown himself to be a good director; so “fine” from him is a disappointment.

Poirot: Murder on the Orient Express

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Normally I do not review episodes of TV shows, although I have reviewed TV movies. In addition to David Suchet’s wonderful Poirot, like the cinematically released movies of the same name, this boasts an excellent cast. I planned to go into some detail about the cast to avoid why I chose to watch this tonight. The real reason I opted to re-re-watch (the premise of this movielog is to capture my opinion upon the first viewing) this film on a Friday night was because my grandma died this week and I first watched this with her.

I love that the cast has BAFTA, Emmy and Oscar nominees and winners. These roles are all so great to play because of the story and what they are asked to do. Plus everyone loves Poirot. It’s a brisk 90 minutes, but everyone gets a chance to shine.

The first time I saw this Megan and I had gone down to Florida to take a cruise and stayed with her before that. We checked for something to watch and PBS happened to be showing Masterpiece and it was Poirot, which was a win but not only that it was a new episode when I thought the series had finished for good. It was the movie they had put off making for years and years – Murder on the Orient Express. She liked it. Megan liked it and I liked it. This is in contrast to the visit where I convinced her to watch Ghost Dad. I disliked the movie, but she hated it. She actually said, “Well, that was the worst movie I’ve ever seen.” I mentioned in that review, she said about the director, Sidney Poitier, “He has done better work.”

While Poirot no longer surprises me; great art and enjoyable comfort art does not need to surprise to make you feel something. Grandma could recite Casablanca from memory. While extremely well written, this is something that I cannot think of great quotes from.

Shall I tell you what I know? Huh, Mademoiselle Debenham, shall I?


And that’s where the review stopped. It’s sat here for three months. As if finishing it would mean having to face the reality and the sadness. One of the points of this book/movie is that some morality is relative and some is not. The weight of decades of Hercule Poirot’s morality being challenged hits harder here than it does when it’s a new Poirot with no body of work. Suchet’s Poirot brings that in a way that Branagh’s and Finney’s could not. A fun comparison is the most famous Sherlock Holmes story being The Hound of the Baskervilles, where Sherlock disappears for the second act.