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.
They are ‘traps’ which the viewers should not be able to easily detect, and they must truly inspire misdirection and doubt. Without this apparent sense of jeopardy, a murder mystery loses its capacity to elicit and maintain tension.
Technically, the film excels in its simplicity. The sound design is clean and immersive, especially during radio scenes, which are used effectively to externalize Uche’s inner thoughts. The editing is tight, avoiding unnecessary melodrama while still preserving dramatic tension. The film’s score is understated but emotional, punctuating key scenes without overpowering them.
Chioma and Obiora are instantly enamoured of each but after a few dates, her feelings for him start to thaw — not because she's still in love with her ex-boyfriend, Chris, or because she discovers something distasteful about Obiora's past, but for a very silly and flimsy reason: Obiora's Igbo accent.
Though the film’s narrative is engaging, the performances are a mixed bag. Timini’s Tomiwa delivers a decent performance, convincingly portraying a man torn between image and authenticity. The girlfriend Imani, though not the focus of the plot, lacks depth and is reduced to a stereotypical role — the ambitious partner who prioritizes success over emotions. The standout, however, is the family-oriented Rachel. Omosuku brings warmth, humour, and raw emotion to her role
The performances range from captivating to theatrical. Femi Adebayo delivers a decent performance as the troubled King Adedunjoye. He captures the essence of a king who is both regal, relatable, and vulnerable, torn between his duties and his heart. Chioma Akpotha, as Queen Amaka, brings a serene strength to the chaos in her household.
Francois wants the head for its priceless historical value and for the feeling of power it accords. This leads to the relentless cycle of death and violence that ensues, signifying how greed and power always spill over to cause havoc. This is further amplified by the existence of corruption and lawlessness in places that should be pillars of justice.
In Landline, Shalewa (played by Zainab Balogun) dies 11 times. Here’s why. A dual-protagonist story revolves around two characters and...
However, if I turn a blind eye to these inconsistencies, I would place Baby Farm as one of the most thrilling offerings from the Nigerian film industry. There is a seamlessness to the production that doesn't feel forced. Characters, through the actors, come to life in this
Two exceptions stand out: Olarotimi Fakunle as the prison warden, Marshal, and Itele D Icon as Suky’s mentor, Ijaya. Fakunle delivers a commanding performance, infusing Marshal with a chilling blend of authority, humour, and menace. His presence looms over Aja Prison, making it clear why lawlessness thrives under his watch.
By personifying the artefacts and giving them “voice”, Diop creates a profound and empathetic connection between the viewer and the artefacts, elevating their status beyond being seen as mere relics. This bold narrative choice elevates the documentary to a more intimate and retrospective level, inviting viewers to ponder the artefacts' storied past, and their cultural significance.
Fight scenes are never easy to film and Nollywood films have been criticised for opting for karate style fight unlike the Nigerian equivalent which involves a lot of grabbing and throwing, which is why it's called “gidigbo” (Yoruba traditional wrestling). Suspicion also toes this path, but it executes these scenes well as the fight sequences are well choreographed — just what you'd expect from an action film
