Unearthing the Layers of Narration in Black Adam

When we think of blockbuster superhero movies, more often than not, the plot revolves around a reluctant call to justice or a coming-of-age story. But that’s what makes Black Adam so unique among the DC and Marvel films of the last two decades. 

In the same way, the film tackles social justice issues rampant in the Middle East. It alludes to the international intervention's textured narrative that calls upon the cascading interpretations of viewers to draw their own conclusions. Black Adam acts more like a chronological narrative anthology than a standalone story. And the coalescing narrations we hear are perfect examples of that. 

Every story we hear - no matter how different - ties together with the last to form the staggered mosaic of a demi-god more man than deity. Teth Adam isn’t a savior or hero - neither is he a monster or martyr. At his core, he’s just a man. A man with flaws, vengeful dispositions - and the power to do something about it. 

He’s spent 5000 years steeping in the same agony that gave him the power to endure it in the first place. On the surface, he carries himself as brutally strong and eerily silent - but the four different narrations we hear only highlight how much there is beneath the surface. 

With each new narrator, we’re given an extended glimpse into the myth of Kahdaq’s savior, an updated chronicle of its destroyer, a tale of the wizard’s unworthy recipient - and the redemption arc of a man tortured by his own flaws.  They culminate in real-time as a single cohesive story, blending together as one just as the film barrels towards its climax. 

Beneath the surface of our anti-hero lies a complex tome of narrative storytelling held aloft by four distinct pillars of character-driven revelations. Black Adam isn’t good or bad - he simply is. And the narrations we hear reflect that.

Every new voice represents the limit of the audience’s knowledge of events. Each is a complete story in its own right. And each emboldened through the lens of the character telling it. 

It’s a four-facet telling of the anti-hero’s journey and how people (mis)perceive him. The voiceovers contrast against themselves and what we see on-screen. They weave an intersecting narrative that challenges each leg of the story as we know it. The myth of Teth Adam is a tangled web that spans eons and crosses cultures. It deals in misinterpretations and pits story against story - all vying for the position of definitive truth. Each narrator is an addition to the original story. Each narration isn’t just set in chronological order of the narrative but by order of the narrators’ physical ages and status. 

When we listen to the four starkly different narrative perspectives in Black Adam, they tell more than just individual interpretations of a story - they offer comparative perspectives that tie together with the theme of the movie. To think for ourselves. Where there is one truth, there are many others. It’s a commentary on taking stories at face value instead of exploring the textures of a narrative.

When the first narrator is a child, the second is an adult - the same way our third is an immortal demi-god, and the fourth a timeless agent of order. It’s a symmetrical progression of the narrative structure and the film itself. 

Each narrator brings a different perspective to the table and beckons the next leg of the movie. Each contributes a chunk of the story and plot, adding new dimensions to the film and completing a narrative journey. Finally, by the end, the character, the narration, and the story have all come full circle in real-time.  

When the movie opens in the ancient city of Khandaq, Black Adam wastes no time bringing its first narrator into focus. While not giving the audience much to work with as to who the narrator is, the implication is that he’s the same child shown on-screen. He carries us into the story with a clean and, for lack of a better word, vanilla narration indicative of his own innocence. 

As much Black Adam leads the audience to assume that he is Black Adam -  this should have been the first clue that our narrator isn’t the protagonist. His narrations are too unblemished for a character as dark and brutal as Black Adam. Superficially, they sound too average and come off as slightly gratuitous. But there’s a reason for it - it’s a narrative nod to the comics.  

For casual movie-goers, the misdirect is an easter egg that’s easy to miss - especially if they aren’t looking for it. But the film’s predecessor, Shazam!, set a precedent. Shazam is a kid - and in the comics, he makes the same assumption the first time he meets Black Adam - that he’s a child champion too. However, the truth is a sobering reality built upon layers of misinformative storytelling. 

When we hear the second narrator come into focus, it’s towards the second quarter of the movie. And it’s the other side of the coin from the last one. Contrasting with the first narration, an intro that held a touch of innocence and mystery - the second is a foreboding, meant to elaborate on the darker truths of a myth and bring the deeper aspects of it to light. 

This time, it isn’t the myth of Khandaq’s savior or its champion - but the grim narrative of its potential destroyer. It’s an addition that conveys the depths of Black Adam’s brutality and sheds light on the more sobering aspects of his legend. It’s a side of the myth storytellers left out for millennia to preserve the idea of a hero.

By the time we hear the third narration, it’s nearly two-thirds into the movie - only this time, the narrations come from Adam himself. He sets the record straight and finally tells the truth behind who he is and where the power comes from. He isn’t the original champion - it was his son. 

It explains why we hear a voiceover from Dwayne Johnson this time and not the same teenage boy who narrated the intro sequence - and vice versa. The story, the power of Shazam, and the burdens of being a champion are passed from son to father. And he resents himself - and the world - for it. 

Finally, when we reach the film’s climax, the audience is treated to its fourth narrator.

Almost poetically, this last narration comes from Pierce Brosnan’s Dr. Fate. As his name suggests, he’s the authority on fate itself. He uses his narrations to bring the entire story full circle and into the present day. They add narrative nuance to the potential of a tortured man, misunderstood by even himself. 

The story he adds to isn’t that of a villain, but the portrait of someone who can do better. Where Johnson’s narrations paint the picture of a man unworthy to wield the power his son died to give him - Brosnan’s seek to remedy it. It’s a fitting final narration for Black Adam - after all - fate always has the final say. 

Kim Handysides is an award-winning voice artist and coach. Among her 20K+ narrations you have heard her on Discovery, Netflix, and the major networks, in iMax, the White House and the Smithsonian.