While much of the film industry is still catching up to the call for more diversity, superhero-supersaturated comic book blockbusters are beginning to broaden their reach.
"Black Panther," Marvel Studio's first feature with a black hero in the lead, follows the adventures of the title character, an African king of a wealthy, futuristic nation who is also a superpowered crime-fighter. With a predominantly black cast and crew, the movie flips the script on Hollywood's racial status quo, where people of color are kept to the margins or rendered invisible.
Marvel's 18th feature, and the first to be released during February's Black History Month, sets a new high-water mark in the representation of black leading characters in fantasy sagas. The film is the rare comic book movie with a sense of pop cultural importance.
It seems to be hitting the right note at the right time. Advance ticket orders for "Black Panther," directed by "Creed" filmmaker Ryan Coogler and starring Chadwick Boseman, Michael B. Jordan and Oscar winner Lupita Nyong'o, broke a sales record for the online ticketing company Fandango. The film is projected to open to more than $100 million at the box office as the biggest launch for a Marvel Studios hero's first solo movie. ("Deadpool" is the one to beat, grossing $132 million on its opening weekend in 2016.)
Many consider such a film long overdue. It arrives half a century after major comics publishers began introducing multicultural heroes, stories and voices to represent who we collectively are. Marvel Comics mastermind Stan Lee introduced Black Panther, Marvel's first headlining black superhero, in 1966 _ the heart of the U.S. civil rights struggle. Black Lightning, DC's equivalent, debuted in 1977 (and is the focus of a series on the CW TV network).
Marvel's film division has been on a mission of inclusion _ to a limited degree _ since its first feature. In 2008, "Iron Man" added an end-credits cameo by Samuel L. Jackson, redefining the traditionally white role of superspy Nick Fury. Idris Elba appears in Avenger and Thor films as Heimdall, the gatekeeper of Asgard. Terrence Howard and Don Cheadle have shared the role of Iron Man's friend James "War Machine" Rhodes, and Anthony Mackie plays Sam "Falcon" Wilson, Capt. America's colleague, across several series.
But those are supporting roles. At 2014's Comic-Con, the annual July gathering of the geeks in San Diego, the Marvel Studios fan briefing on its superhero film slate through 2019 didn't mention "Black Panther." The list was devoid of lead heroes of color (and, for that matter, women, despite the fact that there have been successful big-scale action fantasies about female heroes, from "The Hunger Games" to the "Kill Bill" films).
The following month, when "Guardians of the Galaxy" became a global hit with a multiethnic supporting cast _ including Zoe Saldana, Dave Bautista, Djimon Hounsou, Dwayne Johnson and Benicio Del Toro _ it was clear that there were new income streams to be tapped and creative ways to re-energize look-alike movie genres.
That year Marvel Studios head Kevin Feige said that in public events such as Comic-Con he had been asked about a "Black Panther" film "more than anything else. More than 'Iron Man 4,' more than 'Avengers 3.' That's sort of the first time that's really happened to us, so I think that makes it different. I think that's something we have to pay attention to." He described the feedback as "a groundswell, and I think it leads to something substantial."
NO GUARANTEES
Operating a studio that churns out billion-dollar-grossing populist entertainment works best when those franchises are steered gracefully through shifting social currents. But successfully tapping that market can be an uphill battle.
Just ask "Black Panther" co-star Jordan. He made news in 2015 by being cast as an African-American Human Torch in 20th Century Fox's reimagining of "The Fantastic Four." The ill-conceived movie never ignited much excitement, vanishing from theaters like the team's Invisible Girl. Earlier, Shaquille O'Neal's effort at a leading role in DC Comics' 1997 "Steel," and 2004's Batman spinoff "Catwoman," starring Halle Berry, were critical and commercial flops.
Still, when handled stylishly with significant star power, multicultural fantasy films can succeed. New Line Cinema's early 2000s Blade trilogy, based on an obscure character from Marvel's cult comic "Tomb of Dracula," starred Wesley Snipes as the title's moody half-vampire/half-human swordsman. The series earned $333 million in box-office receipts. With Will Smith playing superpowered antiheroes, 2008's "Hancock" and 2016's "Suicide Squad" grossed more than $624 million and $746 million, respectively, worldwide.
Yet "Black Panther" arrives in a film market where ethnic and racial disparities have long resisted meaningful change. The Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism at the University of Southern California last year studied the data in its report "Inequality in 900 Popular Films." The most comprehensive analysis of characters in motion picture content to date, it examined 900 of the most popular films over the previous decade, including the 100 top movies of 2016. Out of those 100 films, only 14 had leads or co-leads from minority racial and ethnic groups. Percentage-wise, that is well below the U.S. Census figure (38 percent) and the nation's moviegoing audience (49 percent). In addition, 25 of the year's 100 top films did not feature a single black speaking character.
If "Black Panther" performs as well as predicted, that drought of diversity might fade a bit, with benefits to more than profit-craving film studios. More top-line films might increase the prevalence and portrayal of underrepresented groups, reducing the historic missing persons deficit.
The Pulitzer Prize-winning Dominican American novelist Junot Diaz, whose work focuses on the immigrant experience, has written that while it's important for art to offer windows into new worlds, it also must give everyone opportunities to see images of themselves.
"You know, vampires have no reflections in a mirror? There's this idea that monsters don't have reflections in a mirror. And what I've always thought isn't that monsters don't have reflections in a mirror. It's that if you want to make a human being into a monster, deny them, at the cultural level, any reflection of themselves," he wrote.
Growing up, "I didn't see myself reflected at all. I was like, 'Yo, is something wrong with me _ that the whole society seems to think that people like me don't exist?' And part of what inspired me was this deep desire that before I died, I would make a couple of mirrors. That I would make some mirrors so that kids like me might seem themselves reflected back and might not feel so monstrous for it."
And, as we all know, controlling monsters is what superheroes are very good at.
