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On Aug. 28, 2020, the world was shocked by the unexpected passing of actor Chadwick Boseman at the age of 43. In the wake of Boseman’s death, it was revealed that he had been battling Stage 3 colon cancer since 2016, and that the disease had progressed to Stage 4 thereafter. Fans and colleagues were unaware that Boseman — even throughout the process of acting in films such as “Black Panther” (2018) and “Avengers: Infinity War” (2018) — had been fighting the disease. In the time since Boseman’s death, much about the years leading up to the tragedy has taken on a new, heartbreaking meaning; In 2018, for instance, Boseman visited children with cancer at St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital, while he privately battled cancer himself.

The outpouring of grief from fans in the aftermath of Boseman’s death was immense. In a viral Twitter post by his father King Westbrook, a seven-year-old fan named Kian Westbrook paid tribute to Boseman by setting up a memorial in which he surrounded his Black Panther action figure with flowers and other Avengers toys, while he himself held the “Wakanda Forever” pose made famous by “Black Panther.” For someone like Kian, what did it mean for Boseman, who had become a cultural icon and a role model for Black children everywhere, to be taken so soon? What did it mean for these children to be able to see themselves in this superhero — who earned that designation both via his on-screen prowess and off-screen activism — and then to be forced to grapple with his loss?

While the tragedy of Boseman’s death will never fade, the reality of his life being cut short makes it all the more pressing that audiences continue to engage with his work, comprising a suite of powerful stories of Black icons. He played roles ranging from that of the civil rights lawyer Thurgood Marshall in “Marshall” (2017) to funk artist James Brown in “Get On Up” (2014), and of course became most famous for the role of King T’Challa in “Black Panther” and a slew of other Marvel Studios films. Now, nearly five years after Boseman’s passing, it is as crucial as ever for audiences to understand his contribution to Black representation in film and to the perpetuation of the legacy of the Black Power movement; this impact can be seen in particular through the lens of “Black Panther,” “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” (2020), and “42” (2013). Films like these make it essential that Black children like Kian, as well as audiences around the world, keep Boseman’s work in the spotlight.

At its core, “Black Panther” is a sweeping allegory for a real world that has not done enough to address the structural oppression of Black people. The film is largely set in the isolationist nation of Wakanda, a fictional place defined by a vision of Black excellence never hampered by colonialism nor oppression. Boseman’s protagonist, T’Challa, becomes King of Wakanda and must decide whether or not the nation should share its vast resources with others. In typical superhero movie fashion, the stakes of T’Challa’s challenges become dramatized by the arrival of his estranged cousin Erik Killmonger (Michael B. Jordan), who wants Wakanda to open itself to the world explicitly by pursuing military domination. While Killmonger’s methods are extreme, his backstory — as an underprivileged child growing up in Oakland, California, whom T’Challa’s father could have helped but chose not to — becomes representative of Wakanda’s tendency to shy away from aiding others, and motivation for T’Challa to change course.

Black Panther first appeared in Fantastic Four #52, published by Marvel Comics in July 1966. Interestingly, Marvel introduced the character a few months before the Black Panther Party — the political movement founded by Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale — became nationally known. Nonetheless, the Black Panther comics’ depictions of Afrofuturism, political struggle, and Black empowerment align closely with the real-life Black Panther Party’s mission to foster Black self-determination and challenge systemic racism.

Just as Black Panther became a trailblazing character for superhero comics in the 1960s, the film made history upon its release in 2018. Beyond being the first superhero film to earn an Oscar nomination for Best Picture, it also grossed $1.3 billion worldwide, en route to breaking several box office records. However, it should be acknowledged that the success of “Black Panther” did not come out of nowhere, with regard to film history at large. The film owes in part to the prominence of Blaxploitation films in the 1970s, which tended to feature Black protagonists in action- or crime-ridden settings. While Blaxploitation films often relied on stereotypes and weren't the most accurate or empowering representations of Black life, they were nonetheless crucial in carving out space for Black heroes in mainstream media. By showcasing strong, charismatic Black protagonists, these films laid the groundwork for later works such as “Black Panther” to more powerfully reimagine what Black representation could look like.

Though “Black Panther” features plenty of flashy action scenes — such as a high-energy chase sequence in which T’Challa, donning his Black Panther suit, bounds from vehicle to vehicle along the streets of Busan, South Korea — its most memorable moments come when T’Challa strives to put an end to his nation’s history of refusing to share its resources with others. One of these scenes sees T’Challa commune with his father and other ancestors in a spiritual space called the ancestral plane, where he shouts at them for having been wrong in turning their backs on the rest of the world. Then, in the film’s final scene, T’Challa and his sister Shuri (Letitia Wright) visit the abandoned apartment complex in Oakland where Erik Killmonger grew up, with plans to turn it into the world’s first Wakandan International Outreach Centre. T’Challa comes face to face with a few underprivileged Black children moments before the credits roll, ending the film on a hopeful note by offering Wakanda’s resources as a helping hand for the first time. Boseman’s sincere warmth in the role of T’Challa coalesces with an important message about questioning the systems that are in place and initiating crucial change, rendering Wakanda’s course of action something to which the real world can aspire.

While T’Challa in “Black Panther” is a figure of sovereign power, positioned to confront systemic racism, Boseman’s character Levee in “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” is heartbreakingly trapped by the very forces T’Challa seeks to undo. Boseman’s final film before his death, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” centers on Ma Rainey (Viola Davis) — a real-life American Blues singer — and her band, composed of Levee and a few others. As the members of the band discuss their career aspirations and Levee’s volatile nature often produces arguments or scuffles with other members, it becomes clear that the film seeks to showcase the exploitation of Black artists in the early twentieth-century music industry. While Levee, as an ambitious trumpet player, believes he can forge his own path in the music industry, and he ultimately succumbs to a system designed to marginalize and profit off of Black talent. One powerful scene emblematic of Levee’s oppression comes when he tries to sell his music to white producers, only to be coldly rejected.

Several times in the film, Levee either speaks about or endeavors to open a door in the studio that he can’t seem to get through. It is only after Ma Rainey fires Levee from the band that he is finally able to open the door, only to discover it is a dead end; on the other side is a minuscule courtyard surrounded by towering brick walls, definitively keeping Levee where he is. This cruel symbol of false mobility perfectly encapsulates Levee’s arc, defined by a society in which the structures are not conducive to a Black man like him finding success. The fact that this was Boseman’s final performance adds a gut-wrenching poignancy — a reminder of a life and career that ended too soon, and a testament to the struggles for Black equality and empowerment that remain unfinished.

If Levee’s door opened onto nothing, Jackie Robinson’s story — delivered by Boseman in “42” — tells of a barrier broken with lasting impact. “42” follows Robinson’s entry into Major League Baseball, a white-dominated sport that had systematically excluded Black players. In tracing this story, the film reflects broader tensions between Black excellence and white power structures. Compared with earlier portrayals of Robinson’s life and career, such as the sanitized “Jackie Robinson Story” (1950), starring Robinson himself, “42” offers a more nuanced depiction of the psychological and physical toll Robinson endured. Boseman’s performance showcases both the inner emotion and necessary restraint of a Black pioneer navigating a hostile environment.

One standout scene comes when Robinson, humiliated after being viciously heckled by fans and players, retreats into the field’s tunnel and smashes his bat in anguish, his sobs echoing. The moment is incredibly raw and heartbreaking; the cinematography isolates him in darkness, visually separating him from the cheering, ignorant crowds above. Yet Boseman’s portrayal also honors Robinson’s resilience, in that he convincingly pays off these moments of raw emotion with displays of Robinson’s resolve to keep playing baseball and change the history of the sport forever.

Ultimately, upon looking back into the filmography of Chadwick Boseman, there is either an inspiring or heartbreaking story about Black resilience everywhere you turn. Whether portraying a superhero, historical hero, or other Black icon, Boseman’s range was unmistakable, and his on-screen command was equaled by an offscreen compulsion to fight for powerful causes, in championing movements such as Black Lives Matter. Though Boseman may be gone, his films will remain immortalized as examples for children like Kian Westbrook to aspire to — a model of Black excellence, resilience and hope, and a stepping stone to the future of Black storytelling and resistance.

—Staff writer Kieran J. Farrell can be reached at kieran.farrell@thecrimson.com.