Afolayan has built a stronghold around his name as a filmmaker who does a cultural depiction of African history. But here, we see a rookie exploration of the subplots.
By Seyi Lasisi
Following the critical acclaim of Kunle Afolayan’s standalone film, Aníkúlápó, the director, who has a repertoire of Nigerian cultural films, has transformed it into a six-episode miniseries. This sequel, Aníkúlápó: Rise of the Spectre, builds an alliance with the first iteration, but also introduces new characters and subplots to supposedly connect both the film and series together. But at different points in the series, the subplots and new characters keep a distance from the audience.
The last time Saro (Kunle Remi) graced our screens in Aníkúlápó, his frivolities and unfaithfulness towards Queen Arolake (Bimbo Ademoye) brought about his demise. In this new series, running for a little over six hours, Saro faces unique challenges. By changing the divine plan – resurrecting the dead with Akala’s power – when he gets to Heaven’s Gate, he is denied entrance. To be granted in, Saro needs to perform some deeds. Always the cunning Saro, he devises a means to avoid the tasks. Thus, rather than living for only a limited time on Earth, he can now spend many years. As Saro evades his new tasks, Akala, the mythical bird that resurrected Saro, has besieged the Oyo Empire. The death toll is increasing. To salvage the situation, Baba Fasogbon (Rasak Adewale), the village priest, suggests that Queen Arolake be found and a sacrifice performed. In his newly-found home, Saro, aided by three spiritual beings who are dependent on him, has started a thriving business. A sense of order and ease is gradually enveloping his life. But not for long. In Oyo, the conflicted and ambitious Bashoru (Owobo Ogunde), has heard news about Saro’s mysterious power. Wanting the power for himself, Bashorun sends out a search party for Saro.
Watching Aníkúlápó: Rise of the Spectre is akin to watching archival footage of Yoruba history and culture. The production design of the limited series is a visual repository of Yoruba culture. Characters’ dialogue exchanged poetically captures the familial beauty of hearing one’s mother tongue on screen. While the series is fictional, it takes the time to depict the non-fictional history and culture of the Yoruba people. The costumes visually represent the societal position of the characters in the community – as soldiers, slaves, messengers, queens, royal children, chiefs, and kings. This is commendable from a cultural point of view. As far as representation goes, the series does a mildly decent job of capturing the cultural, metaphysical, mythical, and historical worldviews. With this series, Afolayan reiterates his passionate commitment to telling African stories deeply embedded in the cultural worldview of the Yoruba people, adding to his catalogue of films like Ijogbon, The Figurine, and Irapada – cultural films that capture aspects of African cultures.
However, despite its well-meaning intent in capturing the Oyo Empire history, for viewers with varying exposure to Yoruba history, there are jarring moments. Representing the voice of the Oyo nation is the Oyomesi – a council of powerful chiefs, with the main interest of protecting the kingdom from internal and external turmoil. Although the Alaafin is the supreme voice and totem of authority, his excesses can be checked and guided by the Oyomesi. In Aníkúlápó: Rise of the Spectre, however, the depiction of the Oyomesi as being unguided is staggering to witness. For an audience who doesn’t know the history, it’s a painful and awkward misrepresentation coming from Afolayan, who has distinguished himself by making historical epics tethered on Yoruba culture and history.
The series depicts the Oyo council as feeble. The fibre of their strength is missing. All through the series, we gruelly watch these men and women who share anecdotes that don’t seem to give any insightful addition to the plot progression. As a traditional series anchored on a well-read and documented history, the series, not forgetting the creator’s creative liberty, is riddled with cultural and historical holes. The depiction of Alaafin Adeyemo (Taiwo Hassan) as a weak and somewhat spineless monarch is faulty. From a cultural and historical standpoint, Alaafin’s depiction is demeaning, and from an acting point of view, the actor lacked the nuances expected of his role.
Afolayan has built a stronghold around his name as a filmmaker who does a cultural depiction of African history. But here, we see a rookie exploration of the subplots. Such as that of Bashorun and his conflict with the Ede people, represented by Prince Kuranga (Uzee Usman). Another unexplored conflict in the series is that between Alaafin and Bashorun. While Aníkúlápó: Rise of the Spectre devotes time and attention to these subplots, it does not intimately explore their significance to the overall plot narratives, making the series rather overwhelming.
Co-written by Sola Dada and Afolayan, the six-episode series could, in the hands of a frugal writer, be shorter, tighter, and more coherent. Numerous scenes after scenes could have been cut off the series without causing any plot harm. Awolaran’s character for one, played by Lateef Adedimeji, could have been edited out of the series. At different points, the plot progression plays out like a toddler learning to take its first step. Another point of confusion in the series is the foggy timeline. At different moments, characters randomly call dates and times that constantly contradict an earlier-mentioned one. This makes it impossible to keep track of time.
Outside of the mind-draining plot progression of Aníkúlápó: Rise of the Spectre, a commendable bit is the setting. Set in the ancient Oyo-Ile, the film was shot at the KAP Film Village and Resort — the Kunle Afolayan-owned 40- acre of land. Afolayan’s ownership of the Film Village recalls American filmmaker, Tyler Perry‘s ownership of a 330-acre studio. Marvel’s Black Panther and The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, Dwayne Johnson’s Rampage, and Ryan Gosling’s The First Man were filmed at the Perry studio. Anikulapo being filmed at the KAP Film Village might be on its pathway to being, as stated on the website of the KAP, “A versatile stationary location for Nigerian and foreign filmmakers looking for a secured and serene location to shoot their films.
Afolayan has built an enviable filmmaking portfolio from having multiple credits in his films as a writer, director, actor, set designer, and producer. This indicates how creatively ingenious he is. For the most part, playing multiple roles in his films has worked. It ensures a sense of kinship and identity in all his films. However, in this series, that isn’t the case. His involvement in the creative departments is commendable. But in directing and co-writing the limited series, the show suffers from lethargy. The storyline chronically malfunctions. The directing is feeble. The acting, save for a few actors, is unconvincing. The most poignant thing one can say about the series is that, in practice, it doesn’t work.
Rating: 2.5/5
(Aníkúlápó: Rise of the Spectre is currently streaming on Netflix).
Seyi Lasisi is a Nigerian student with an obsessive interest in Nigerian and African films as an art form. His film criticism aspires to engage the subtle and obvious politics, sentiments, and opinions of the filmmaker to see how they align with reality. He tweets @SeyiVortex. Email: seyi.lasisi@afrocritik.com.