In Landline, Shalewa (played by Zainab Balogun) dies 11 times.
Here’s why.
A dual-protagonist story revolves around two characters and most times, the setting is just as limited as the characters. When written with intent and skill, a double protagonist story can be promising and exciting, with character development as the focus, allowing the viewers an intimate feel of the complexities of the characters as they evolve and unravel.
However, without a layered plot and intelligent build-on suspense, the project can feel empty, leaving viewers with a profound sense of dissatisfaction. To fill this emptiness, Dele Doherty throws his debut feature Landline into a time loop with repetition becoming the tool for filling the void.
Landline revolves around Mr. Kola (played by Gabriel Afolayan), a police sergeant who has been forced into hiding due to circumstances he describes as “a very thin line,” spelling out the danger he faces. By hiding away in a safe house, he leaves his pregnant wife, Shalewa, all alone at home.
The movie starts in medias res with conversations only both characters are privy to and resort intermittently to “the last time” to refer to an experience that the viewers are not aware of.
These plot “secrets” form the basis for suspense. What follows is Kola receiving a series of disturbing calls via different telephones, with each call building on the last and drawing him and the viewers closer to solving the loop.
Landline is a fair attempt at exploring a creative device that is seldom used in Nigerian filmmaking.
The tension is palpable from the first scene. The gloomy music and background tunes, melancholic lighting, despondent setting, and sharp angles all work in consonance to paint the picture of a thrilling crime piece.
It is explained later that a mysterious landline is responsible for the repeat in time that we and the cast are experiencing. This landline seems to be a conduit between the future and present (just like the phone offered a portal between the real and simulated world in The Matrix) allowing Kola to change the outcome of his wife’s fate. The faceless voices behind every call keep us guessing by sustaining the suspense.
We are enthralled with how the movie tests the psychological grit of the characters and viewers. Gabriel Afolayan embodies the dynamic emotions that Kola experiences by being in a situation that he can’t control. He shuffles between anger, confusion, brokenness and resolve in split seconds, carrying the viewers along on the journey.
Zainab Balogun plays her role as a pregnant, expectant mother and doting wife to a tee. Though she enters every loop unaware of what has previously transpired, her faith and trust in her husband allow her to propel the plot.
Despite all these, what is obvious from the beginning is an absence of mastery and completeness in storytelling. Creating a loop with so few characters means that a void is created in the storytelling process. Production decides to fill this gap with lengthy and unnecessary dialogues that add no value to the plot by being so stretched out. There is an overdramatization of things viewers will agree should ideally come naturally to the characters, especially with Shalewa.
Why does someone who is under immediate threat by a home invader need a very detailed, practiced tutorial on how to wield and use a knife. With all the adrenaline that must have been surging through her, the last thing that should be emphasized are the technicalities of knife-wielding. That scene was particularly comic material, not something deserving of being in a crime thriller.
For all the built-in suspense, Landline ended flat. We shifted from Shalewa using a loaded gun to a bat. It didn’t make sense how Shalewa was able to overcome an armed assassin with a bat when she could have done so with a gun. And, while the final determination that was needed to take him out was suggested, it wasn’t effectively shown. There was still visible weakness in her eyes and actions despite the fire the slow-motion shots and climax music tried to portray.
Lastly, as every viewer would surely want to know, “Who was the man on the future end of the landline?!” His role seemed too convenient for the plot. Was he simply a guide that Kola needed to make sense of saving his wife?
Despite how meticulously I have judged this movie, its existence is proof that Nigerian filmmakers are finally willing to shake the norm and defy the ordinary. It’s a start in the right direction for our movie industry.
