Ijele Remake: Culture and Its Iconic Ambassadors

 

Larry Gaaga - Egedege (Music Video) [ft. Pete Edochie, Theresa Onuorah, Flavour & Phyno]

Flavour, Levels, and Pop Culture: Celebrating Industry and Opulence

Flavour - Levels (Offical Video)

Translated Lyrics, courtesy of Mr. Xpression 

Nollywood, Criticism, and the Critic's Candor

(By Olamide Adio) – In Praise of Criticism 

          There are two moments in my life that define me as an artist and critic. Although I am usually wary
of reducing the entirety of being into moments, but “moments”, for me, remain the most potent manner of seizing poignant, character-defining experiences. Both moments, womb-to-tomb important as they are, came when I was a child, proving that it is in childhood that the fire of life strikes us the hottest, every other burn later is afterglow. The materials from these two moments are important to me particularly because I now find them replaceable only by duplication—I have obviously encountered better materials since childhood, but with each encounter, I have found that I have been looking for the same materials essentially, only more sophisticated—to be burned but at different degrees, at different spots. 

          The first material is nameless and irrelevant to film. I grew up in a school under strict tutelage and this meant that I was always surrounded by books to read, that I saw the news on AIT every night, that I constantly overheard intellectual arguments on national problems, and that, choiceless, I had to know the meaning of pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis at age nine. The purity of the arguments I heard—but didn’t understand—and the fervor with which these arguments were delivered, drew me to criticism early. I found flaws in the Punch newspaper cartoons; I found the popular 2000s American soap opera, Passions, too foreign, thus distasteful (but, suspiciously, I thought the 2001 animated series, Justice League, to be a masterpiece); and I was secretly sure that Yuen Woo-ping’s Iron Monkey was the greatest film ever made. Again, as with purpose, it appears criticism is present at all ages, only continuously redefined to suit sophistication—a baby will pinch its nose at bad milk—and every criticism, like the baby’s, is incontrovertibly subjective without the maturity of knowledge. But criticism by its nature is hardly ever agreeable.

Traditional Religions in Old vs. New Nollywood

(By Daniel Okechukwu) – Old Nollywood demonised traditional religions. New cinema says ‘No More’ 

A scene in Living in Bondage: Breaking Free
(Ramsey Nouah (L) and Kenneth Okonkwo)

Witches, gods, folklore take two. 

          In Narrow Escape, a classic 1999 Nollywood film, the embattled protagonist Reverend Emmanuel is facing a formidable enemy: his father. The two men are on either side of the well-known battle line of good vs. evil. Reverend Emmanuel is of the Christian faith, spreading the gospel. His father is a traditional worshipper. 

          “In the past twelve years, we have had fourteen Reverend Fathers in Umuaka. Six left here as corpses,” a concerned elder warns Reverend Emmanuel in one scene. The cause of death? Murder by a powerful cult of traditional worshippers. 

          This line exemplifies the specific religious theme of many films made in Nigeria at that time. Characters representing the Christian faith – pastors, deacons, reverends, believers – were inherently good and under attack by adherents of traditional faith – depicted as witches or ritualists – who were seen as full of evil. 

          Narrow Escape, with its all-star cast, was a hit as were other films with similar themes. End of Wicked depicted the wickedness of witches; Billionaire Club was about sacrificing loved ones for wealth; Festival of Fire followed the persecution of missionaries. It is not hard to see why these films were popular. They drew inspiration from the policies of colonial missionaries who saw traditional customs as evil and irreligious. This message found a receptive audience in one of the world’s most religious countries. 

          Yet today, the tides have turned. Filmmakers in Nigeria are now exploring previously-maligned traditional faiths and subverting how they have been depicted. What changed? The answer is likely to be found in Nigeria’s changing relationship with religion.

Lagbaja: His Music, Mask, and Legacy

(By Olamide Adio Olanrewaju) – Lagbaja, Something for You: The Legacy of Our Second Democracy Superhero 

          Lagbaja’s music is a symbolic bridge that connects the old to the new; the dangers, apprehension,
and injustices of the Nigerian military era to a new age of democracy and hope. 

          Costumed in statement traditional garb, and mysterious behind a signature mask, Lagbaja is a real-life superhero. As is the way of superheroes, after awakening to musical superpowers of Ayan (the talking drum), the saxophone, and the ways of the ancestors, Lagbaja embarked on a quest to fulfil the distinct purpose of musically restoring post-military Nigeria. 

          In order to understand and appreciate Lagbaja’s role as Nigeria’s second democracy superhero, one must return to another place and an earlier time, when people flocked to be entertained by another musical enigma—Fela (Fela’s musical influence on Lagbaja is clearest in the latter’s handling of the saxophone). However, while Fela’s political reality forced him to use music as a weapon against the Nigerian government, Lagbaja had the responsibility of easing society with his music. Fela’s music thrived against the military government in the 1970s, but Lagbaja’s music came to prominence at a time when the military rule in Nigeria had almost come to an end, and it climaxed during the democracy era from 1999 through the 2000s. While Fela’s music spurred the people to political anger, created the desire to protest in them, Lagbaja’s music, still as conscious, calmed and reflected a people appreciative of a battle well fought and won—both musicians being exactly what Nigerians needed at their respective periods.

'76: Nigeria, the Military, Coups, and Love Stories

(By Olamide Adio) - Movie Review: ’76’, Starring Ramsey Nouah and Rita Dominic 

          Today, there is a dearth of historical dramas amongst contemporary Nollywood output, but this hasn’t always been the case. One of the first epics of the industry, Ogbori Elemosho, released in the 80s, which starred Lere Paimo, opened a pathway to what a sprinkle of fiction could do to a historical figure and their story. Tunde Kelani’s adaptation of Akinwunmi Ishola’s novel, Efunsetan Aniwura (2005), more recent, better made, became an instant classic upon release; an efficient psychological breakdown on the infamous Iyalode of Ibadan. And even more recently is Kunle Afolayan’s October 1st, a historical thriller woven around the Nigerian independence nuptials. And today, under the Netflix auspice, Izu Ojukwu’s historical thriller, ’76, released in 2016, has been revived. 

          Captain Joseph Dewa (Ramsey Nouah), a soldier in the Nigerian army, has found himself in the middle of a military plot. The newly appointed, public-beloved Head of State, Muritala Muhammed, has been marked to be assassinated by top military officials, retired military officials, and civilian politicians. Captain Dewa has recently been assigned back to the barracks with his pregnant wife, Suzy (Rita Dominic). He is quickly coveted by his longtime friend, Gomos (Chidi Mokeme), to be recruited into the sinister plot against the Head of State. Captain Dewa refuses to the disappointment of his friend and the coup plotters. As we know, death visits the Head of State violently, and in its aftermath is a great military investigative ruckus. By affiliation with members of the coup plotters, Captain Dewa is promptly arrested as his wife delivers her baby. The crux of the film becomes the race to exonerate Captain Dewa or he gets executed with the coup plotters.

Rattlesnake: A Remake and Insights from the Ahanna Story

(By Olamide Adio) – Movie Review: Rattlesnake’s Ahanna isn’t the Genius the Movie Wants us to Believe He is 

          Rattlesnake opens strong. A voice over monologue is being delivered as the protagonist watches a man get burnt to death. The monologue declares this a defining moment in the child’s life. The caliginous voice delivering the monologue suggests tragedy at a later date. But this isn’t the only excellent thing about Rattlesnake’s opening. It also shows us that Ramsey Nouah knows what he is doing as a director. The framings are gorgeous and personal, the cuts are appropriate, and the editing is as precise as a brush stroke. It is a perfect opening scene. The first act rushes through exposition, introduces all the principal characters and presents the inciting incident. Meanwhile, the excellence remains consistent; if anything, it is added upon with the introduction of Stan Nze, who plays Ahanna Okolo. 

          In Prophetess, Stan Nze played the bumbling manager who speaks faster than his body can catch up, a comedic character, awkward on the actor, a role undeserving of mention. Something just wasn’t right with his acting, something “funny”. Fast-forward to Rattlesnake’s arrival on Netflix and the reason becomes clear. The coldness of his aura superimposed by his booming monologue and the overall calmness his role demands. No, it cannot be because he delivered a good portion of his lines in Igbo—he has done that elsewhere without equal success. It isn’t clear, or it could be because of all those things combined. Stan Nze commands the frame from the opening scene till his last appearance. (Or could it be because it is an Igbo material with a director who understands the culture at its helm?) This is credit, again, to Ramsey Nouah’s framings, which, because of its consistency, suggests a stylistic statement. The shots find Ahanna mostly in medium or close-up where he either looms in or his emotions are on full display.

Nneka the Pretty Serpent and Challenges of a Remake

(By Olamide Adio) – Movie Review: ‘Nneka the Pretty Serpent’ and the Conundrum of Remakes 

          Play Network Studios is leaving a trail of remakes. It opened with Living in Bondage, then Rattlesnake: the Ahanna Story, and now Nneka the Pretty Serpent. A remake of Tade Ogidan’s Diamond Ring has also been announced. Remakes are financial gimmicks, a knowing tug at nostalgia with a clear eye for newer, younger audiences, a larger reach of and for material; a new cash-flow from an old thing. When done well, the essence of the original materials is maintained even if more elements are added; a better narrative structure, a specific targeting of a newer demographic, and the continuance of a storytelling legend. It is not such a bad thing. It could even be termed a noble endeavor. And with Richard Williams (Ramsey Nouah’s character from Living in Bondage) recruiting the anti-heroes in each movie, there is a sense of world-building ambition. 

          A small problem. The remakes are beginning to look familiar and, although conspicuously, the essence of the originals isn’t wholly or properly transported into the remakes. The lead is usually true to the anti-hero nature, usually beset by tragedy, seeks a goal to rectify their problems, and does it nefariously. With a constant eye for globalization and multiculturalism, the remakes branch out—not too much, but enough—to accommodate new audiences. Finally, the demands of the new age do not usually align with the originals. Nneka (Idia Aisien) wants vengeance and while that would have been acquired, and Nneka herself sufficiently punished in the morality-obsessed Nollywood of old, it might not be enough in the modern world of moral ambiguities. 

King of Boys: The Return and a Protracted Plot

(By Olamide Adio) - ‘King of Boys: The Return of the King’ Review: Protracted Plot Sullies Kemi Adetiba’s Mixed Bag 

          We must all agree that Kemi Adetiba has had an interesting journey. From directing music videos, to
The Wedding Party, then the acclaimed King of Boys and now a Netflix original for a King of Boys series. When one looks closely at the film projects, there are elements of directorial unifications. Sola Sobowale has been a recurring partnership, with her comes the vociferousness she perfected for her stock characters as a Yoruba actress; that need to marry culture with modernism, and to sell the mundane as extraordinary, seems important to Kemi Adetiba. For all the affluence in The Wedding Party, it is still a glorified ‘owambe’. And King of Boys itself is a Lagos thug to the world, homage to Hollywood mob films. There are unifying flaws, too. The constancy of plot holes must take front seat; followed doggedly by the anchor of questionable characters. 

          And while Kemi Adetiba knows her onions to some length, these strengths and flaws of the mercurial director are more glaring in the series. Perhaps, one independent, less glamorous, more ‘experimental’ film between the King of Boys and the King of Boysseries might have helped her shed some more flaws in her filmmaking. In this sequel, Alhaja Salami, disgraced kingpin and king of boys, has returned to the country after a governmental pardon. Upon returning, she promptly declares her political ambition to become the Lagos State governor, but old and new enemies, personal demons, and a new player from the press will stand in her way. There are seven episodes in this Netflix original series. Humour me. Let us write a seven-paragraph review, one for each episode, and with faster pacing than the series. 

Saworoide Revisited

(By Olamide Adio) – Retro Review: ‘Ṣaworoidẹ’ and Timelessness 

          It would seem an overstatement to term Saworoide the most important political movie in  Nollywood’s history. Released in 1999, more than two decades ago, with a portion of its cast either aged or deceased, our establishing sentence is bound to be met with umbrage. The film itself was scripted by the late Yoruba novelist, Akinwunmi Ishola, who also authored the material the film was adapted from; and it was directed by Tunde Kelani—a partnership that scored gold numerously until the novelist passed away. If the obvious reasons for the film’s greatness—two ingenious artists at its creative helm; a potent source material; an assembly of veteran, talented actors, if these aren’t enough reasons, then the polemical statement that the now-absent will to make something timeless by the film’s director should be put forward. 

          Saworoide transcends time. It is a film that speaks potently to our current political situation. On one end is the impressiveness of the material and on the other end is the tragedy of the Nigerian political situation—that a 1999 film still aptly comments on modern Nigerian politics correctly. And because time flows both ways, the film’s perpetual nature means it also chronicles Nigerian political history. Set in the fictional Jogbo, a place where it appears as though the characters are unaffected by time; only situation changes and their reaction to it; where the only markers of time are character declarations of it—usually not the characters benefitting from the political situation—and the two youths, Aresejabata (Kunle Afolayan) and Araparegangan (Kabirat Kafidipe), on whose juvenile shoulders the people of Jogbo’s future rest.

Sir Jude Nnam: The Prolific Cosmopolitan Christian Composer Extraordinaire

Jude Nnam on NTA Igboezue | Ndi Nwe Obodo

 

Of ATRs, Christianity, and Paganism

(By Chijioke Ngobili) – The Coming Ìgbò Spiritual Revolution 

          Take a look at the topic of this symposium these “learned” discussants are meant to tackle: “Return to Paganism by African Youths: Causes, Consequences and Solution”. 

          The keyword, for me, is “paganism”. 

          To each and everyone of these discussants who are Ìgbò (majority of them are Ìgbò by the way), for example, “paganism” is the indigenous Ìgbò Spirituality which is otherwise known as “Ịgọ Mmụọ” or more generically and recently as “Ime Omenaanị”. And, when the younger generations of Ìgbò have realized themselves in illumination and enlightenment, woken up from the many decades of brainwash and Christian indoctrination and returned to the unique and God-given Spirituality of their Ancestors which some missionaries ensnared them away from more than 100 years ago with all manner of means, they're returning to “paganism” and should be pulled back to be saved by these messiah discussants. Such a laughable and ignorant intervention! 

          I have once hinted at this: A spiritual revolution is building up and it's the younger Ìgbò generations who are leading it.