Black Is King (2020)

Black Is King is special because it isn’t just something you watch—it’s something you sink into, a luxuriant visual poem where Beyoncé and a team of bold directors turn pop music into living mythology. Every sequence feels handcrafted: color, costume, choreography, and camera movement fuse into images that celebrate Black beauty and African heritage with the kind of confidence that doesn’t ask permission. The vibe is regal, dreamlike, and emotionally earnest, using the familiar bones of a coming-of-age fable to speak about identity, inheritance, and self-worth without getting bogged down in conventional storytelling. It’s not for everyone if you want a straightforward narrative film, but if you’re open to an experimental visual album that aims for awe—and often reaches it—this is absolutely worth your time.

Black Is King is aiming to be a lavish, empowering visual poem—part fashion editorial, part mythic coming-of-age—using Lion King-style imagery as a springboard for celebrating Black identity and heritage. When it works, it’s stunning: the costumes, choreography, and Beyoncé’s star power create a hypnotic, gallery-worthy experience that’s more about mood and symbolism than plot. But if you’re hoping for a coherent narrative, a nuanced engagement with the realities and diversity of modern Africa, or anything resembling a traditional movie, you may find it glossy, brand-forward, and occasionally uncomfortably close to aesthetic tourism—especially if the capitalism and appropriation critiques already bother you. Best for viewers who want a high-art music film and can roll with allegory; not for those craving grounded storytelling or deeper political complexity.