Marvel is introducing David Jonsson as T'Challa's son in Black Panther 3. Nobody involved is talking about what this actually means.
Not the emotional architecture of it. Not what it costs an actor to inherit a role forever shadowed by Chadwick Boseman's death—not why the studio thinks this works when the exact same move nearly broke Spider-Man five years ago.
When Andrew Garfield's Spider-Man ended in 2012, Sony didn't grieve him. They rebooted, and audiences had permission to forget. When Marvel bought the rights and Tom Holland arrived as a third Spider-Man, the studio discovered something invaluable. You could collapse the mourning period by introducing a successor inside an ongoing universe.
Spider-Man 2099, Miles Morales, Into the Spider-Verse—suddenly the grief work became optional. You didn't have to let audiences sit with loss, you just introduced the next hero and trained viewers to accept that legacy and succession could happen without closure. Black Panther can't do that. Boseman died in 2020, mid-franchise, and the character was mythological in ways Tom Holland's Spider-Man never touched.
You could collapse the mourning period by introducing a successor inside an ongoing universe.
Introducing Jonsson as T'Challa's son while Letitia Wright and Winston Duke return means Marvel is asking audiences to hold two incompatible narratives simultaneously—the old king is gone, his son is here, no funeral, no throne ceremony that marks the boundary between then and now. Just continuation wearing the face of change. The difference this time is that audiences know better. They watched Miles Morales work because Into the Spider-Verse let them mourn Peter Parker properly first. They know what grief-skipping looks like because they've been trained to spot it. Marvel's gamble isn't whether Jonsson can carry the role—it's whether viewers will accept succession without the symbolic work that makes succession matter.