Everything in Casa de Novia exists to distract. Just what it is distracting us from, however, is difficult to fathom.
By Victory Hayzard Solum
Most Nigerian film fans above a certain age have shared jokes of this kind: a ghost in a Nollywood film attempts to cross the road, so he looks left, looks right, to make sure there isn’t a car approaching. There’s the ever-recurring one about supposedly invisible ghosts casting shadows. As far as we are concerned, Nollywood has had a weird history with telling ghost stories. But lift your hearts all ye who despair. The folks at Anthill Studios have a bright new idea to revolutionise the entire shindig and free the entity from its mortal constraints. In their latest flick, the ghost is naked! Cue the wailing organ.
Yoyo (Anee Icha) is at risk of getting fired from her job on account of her persistent lateness. This is as a result of the long distances on her daily commute, and the hassles this throws on her path. To salvage the situation, and at the behest of her boss (Lilian Esoro), Yoyo goes house hunting. The opening sequence gives us a glimpse of the humiliations inherent in the task of seeking residence in Lagos. Eventually, Yoyo finds an ad for a house at a choice location. Except said house is a gigantic mansion being rented out for less than a steal. Against all sense of reasoning and suspicions of being scammed, Yoyo pays the requested price. But no sooner has she moved in, than she realises she is not alone. Efosa Igbinovia (Taye Arimoro), the long-disappeared owner of the mansion, still lives within, but only, as a ghost. And thus begins Uyoyou Adia‘s 2024 supernatural comedy, Casa de Novia.
Casa de Novia has a simple enough premise. There’s a lady who just wants to get by at her place of work, and hopefully, attract a few romantic suitors. While the existence of the ghost throws everything out of loop, her sanity comes into question. The telling of this story is, however, hampered by bad acting, horrible cinematography, god-awful CGI, and some very questionable plot decisions.
The best thing about Casa de Novia is its lead actor. Icha embraces her character, becoming Yoyo in every manifestation of gaiety, confusion, and frustration. Her lines emanate from her quite naturally that the analogy of a movie set built artificially around her comes to mind. Here’s an actor with a sense of comedic timing that’s based on softer tones rather than exaggeration. She gives us an inkling of just how enjoyable this film would have been with just a pinch of talent in the mishmash of passion and experimentation on display in this production. But everything goes downhill from here, as far as the film’s merits are concerned.
Here’s Casa de Novia’s way of infusing a set of twins with distinct characterisation. One of them is essentially American. Not American in any way that is honest and respectable, American in the phony way of those old Nigerian posers of the 2000s who probably got no farther than Libya. Every syllable out of the character’s mouth is migraine-inducing. The only thing missing from this picture is some chewing gum. Except, of course, that would be so 2004. As is this Americana stereotype.
When Casa de Novia isn’t making such outlandish story decisions, it’s reaching for the low hanging fruits of Nigerian comedy. When in doubt on how to infuse some local spice in your comedy, insert Christians of the white garment denomination, aka Cele People. Yoyo’s best friend and erstwhile housemate, Tawa (Lizzy Jay), is the point of contact for this bit. When the ghost first appears to Yoyo, she reaches out to Tawa who quickly dons her garment and drags her pastor over for a dose of that good old Cele praying and dancing meant to inspire ridicule.
There was a time once when these Cele folks were Nollywood’s symbol of diabolic Christianity on account of their syncretic practices. In the bid to normalise them and not be so judgemental, Nollywood seems to have decided that they are simply hilarious, and has made mascots out of them. The idea seems to be that since most others can’t take them seriously, then they cannot also take themselves seriously. And so there often is a tongue-in-cheek dimension to their onscreen actions and representation, with Niyi Akinmolayan‘s 2021 movie, Prophetess, being an all-out example of this treatment.
Everything in Casa de Novia exists to distract. Just what it is distracting us from, however, is difficult to fathom. There is no sense of an error anywhere that the production team wishes to repent from. Their intention is brazen and well represented in active computer-generated imagery. It just also has the artistic merit of a toddler’s banging at the command keys on Premiere Pro in the throes of a sneezing fit.
In most things technical, the mission statement at Anthill Studios appears to be “experiment, experiment, and pioneer”. But in the rush to secrete the next “original” feature, they seem to often forget to ensure that it be a good or respectable offering. The low-budget filmmakers of Nollywood, often referred to as Asaba-Nollywood, on account of their home base, sometimes dabble into CGI in their movies. The difference in expertise between those and what is offered in Adia’s film might simply be one of colour grading. The effect being that in aiming for the ethereal, Casa de Novia‘s mirror ghost appears faker in its halo of lights. And there’s more that is absurd about this movie.
Two characters walk into a room to find it doused in petrol. There is nothing about what came before to suggest that the house now also doubles as a refinery. They see the splashes and register that this is, in fact, petrol. Then they shrug it off and carry on with their conversation. Why one expects the common sense reaction of panic in a movie where there is so much revolt against common sense might be beyond comprehension. But one is allowed to dream. Seconds later, there’s some madness astir with some fire ignited, and colour everyone bemused. All of this would be funny if it wasn’t also the sort of scripting and acting parodied by Basketmouth and his comedian ilk in the heyday of Opa Williams’s Nite of a Thousand Laughs. Perhaps, Casa de Novia‘s tagline should have read “kicking it retro”.
It is not since the days of Patience Ozokwor‘s quintessential roles as Nollywood’s favourite domestic villain that we last saw scenes of people going into spontaneous fits of confession of their evil deeds upon sighting a ghostly appearance. The final scene had me transported firmly to those days in a bout of cringe and nostalgia, and I all but expected the self-revealed villain to start cackling in madness and snatching flies from the middle of the air. And just as suddenly, I was struck by a realisation.
Casa de Novia is Old Nollywood: sketchy storytelling, a been-to Americana, horrible graphics, cartoonish acting and reactions, and a crazed auto-revealing villain. Where else does one get such a cocktail? Adia and her production team have heard us pining for the old glory days and have decided to cure us of our nostalgia with a reminder of how ridiculous those movies could sometimes be. Somehow, the disclaimer that this is a mere parody was skipped out. I want to believe so much in this conspiracy. Except, I also believe an idea that complicated would be bungled by this production team in the execution.
Written by Saninye Alasia and Niyi Akinmolayan, and produced by Victoria Akujobi, Casa de Novia‘s chaotic mess is saved from the ignominy of Tommy Wiseau‘s legendary 2003 comedy romance, The Room, by Icha’s sometimes cute acting. It might also have been prevented thusly from having any real impact on Nollywood’s historical and creative trajectory. But, perhaps, this forgetting is for the best.
Rating: 2/5
(Casa de Novia is currently streaming on Prime Video)
Victory Hayzard Solum is a freelance writer with an irrepressible passion for the cinematic arts. Here he explores the sights, sounds, and magic of the shadow-making medium and their enrichment of the human experience. A longstanding ghostwriter, he may have authored the last bestselling novel you read.