Spanning eight episodes, Kemi Adetiba’s “To Kill a Monkey” begins with the internal monologue of Efemini Edewor, played by Williams Benson, the plot’s main protagonist.
A first-class graduate with nothing to show for it, Efe suffers the ignominy, shame, and public derision that besmears most men not able to meet their financial obligations, especially as family men in today’s Nigeria.
His troubles are compounded by the vexation of an impatient mother-in-law, the wiles of an exploitative boss, the greed of his kinsmen, and his own seeming naivety (for how else does one explain a man steeped in penury anticipating triplets?).
Drowned in debt at the local restaurant where he serves food and with his world caving in, Efe stumbles upon his old school mate and current multi-millionaire, Obozuhiomwen Ogbemudia (Bucci Franklin). The name is just as fantastically sounding as the character is braggadocious, and our very first introduction to this lanky boisterous powerhouse of a man steeped in extravagance and vulgarity is the very last act of the first episode, where his mercurial nature will, at once, threaten havoc due to lust, and later, redemption in reward of a past mercy. This paradox will foreshadow the erraticism, vibrancy and emotional depth which Obozu brings to the series.
We learn that Obozu runs a well-organized cyber fraud business, with an impressive network of young male recruits and several underground cells. This network, which he calls “inside business”, is, in fact, the main source of his wealth. After an initial reluctance, Efe accepts the ‘hand of friendship’ offered by Obozu and gets plunged into the underworld of crime and laundered affluence. But this acceptance comes at a cost: a blurring of lines, an erosion of principles, several crossroads and a collective jeopardy to all he holds dear. How far is Efe willing to go to protect the ones he loves? In this pulsating crime-thriller series, the thin line that separates duty to self and to others is trodden with admirable dexterity.
Kemi Adetiba’s ‘To Kill a Monkey” has every ingredient that makes for an engaging crime thriller; tension, intrigue, impressive visuals, layered characters, high stakes, tight pacing, heightened soundtracks and narrative density. The themes of power, betrayal, lust, vengeance, greed, corruption, internal conflict and justice are delicately woven into this series. The characters seem to be continually plagued by an existential question: Am I good or am I evil? Perhaps the answer is both, but at what point in time?
Ms Adetiba carefully explores the grey areas which many are quick to avoid, and she does this mostly by means of the dialogue between the characters.
“We’ll go in and out, quickly.” Efe tells his innocent wife, Nosa, at the beginning of his illegal bromance, but are things ever that straight forward? This crime-thriller confronts such nuance with a measure of subtlety. The choice of the title itself, not immediately apparent within the first few episodes, becomes intricately unwrapped as the series progresses: Obozu’s young recruits make sure to leave a souvenir for their victims.
It is this same subtlety that Kemi Adetiba employs to adorn the series with its most endearing qualities: emotional depth and range. Not least for Efe, the protagonist, who undulates consistently between principle and crime, loyalty and treachery. This same subtlety informs the careful weaving of strands of Nigerian reality in bits and pieces within the narrative, such as the dramatic change of a mother towards her son-in-law following his sudden rise to wealth, and the insertions of popular colloquialisms in everyday discourse, such as “your papa” and “ojoro cancel ojoro”.
There is nothing subtle, however, about the series’ most compelling character, Obozuhiomwen, whose brashness offers viewers the most vibrant and emotionally charged scenes, creating conflict and pushing the plot forward. His erratic outbursts, sometimes bordering on psychopathy, also reveal a deeper emotional turmoil and subtext, provoking emotional resonance, even if piquing curiosity as to the context of his past. Ironically, while his partnership with Efe is meant to highlight their stark differences, the end of their bromance sees Obozu telling the former, “You are just a criminal, like me”, a damning reminder of how our efforts to appear holier than thou fall hollow.
The plot occasionally suffers from a deficit of background context. Obozu’s feud with ‘Teacher’ (Chidi Mokeme) springs like a cat out of a bag, reeking of familiarity and how convenient is it that ‘Sparkles’ (Sunshine Rosman), a pretty escort one would expect to be nothing more than a night’s fling, evolves to become Efe’s most trusted confidante in the precise moment that his relationship with his wife deteriorates? In these moments, the plot suffers under the weight of a predetermined end.
Speaking of an end, the series’ last acts are far from elegant. Inspector Motunrayo (Bimbo Akintola), whose role within the plot is that of an antagonist hardly has her path intersecting with Efe’s until the end, and, therefore, her story feels like nothing more than a filler devoid of any weight. She happens to arrive right on cue to arrest Efe aboard his private jet, even if this ‘victory’ has been totally handed to her on a platter. What follows are series of more internal monologue by Efe to tie up all loose ends, even if this is better left to the imagination of the viewers (and how long will we, as lawyers, complain that marriages can only be annulled by a dissolution of court, and not a “divorce agreement?)
These reservations, however, may prove to be merely pedantic given the general quality of the series, and any complaint as to the ending must not detract from the immaculate acting by the cast which heightened delivery.
4/5.
*Chinonso Nzeakor is a legal practitioner with interest in poetry and the arts. Catch him on X @chinonsokenned1
