The Fire and the Moth opens with a gory frame of a man engulfed in flames. This scene is foreshadowed by the film’s cover and is also seen in the thriller. The thriller paints a picture of chaos, violence, death, and mystery, all sharply enhanced by the serene backdrop the film is set against.
Saba (played by Tayo Faniran) is tasked by his boss to deliver a looted Ife Head. This operation has been commissioned by Mr. Francois (played by Mark Kitto), a Frenchman driven by his misguided desire to have a piece of the highly regarded Ife treasures. Fueled by mistrust, Francois enlists the services of a merciless contractor to bring the Head home to him. And thus, all hell is let loose. Saba stays on the run, trying to outrun the contractor, the corrupt police, and his dying father. Selfish desires clash in Taiwo Egunjobi’s The Fire and the Moth.
There is a pattern that can be deduced.
We see that because of greed and an inherent selfish nature, every character desires the bronze Ife Head for themselves. Saba decides to keep the head for its monetary value so he can pay for his dying father’s treatment. Abika (played by Ini Dima Okojie) is willing to cheat Saba because the head represents a rare opportunity for a better life for her and her sister. 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.
The setting is the best gift this film offers. It is one of rich tapestries, forests, and vast landscape undisturbed by urbanization. This richness seems to reflect the great Kingdom of Ife, the religious and royal home of the Yorubas and the provenance of the Ife Bronze Heads.
Everything else that follows underscores historical events surrounding the discovery of the prized artifacts: the mystical symbol of the head and the lust and avarice of colonial invaders for power and things that are not theirs. This beautiful setting is brought to life in the film by cinematographer Okwong Fadamana. We get beautiful visuals, immersive compositions, and framing. The composition of many scenes, the placement of red hues to emphasize the depth of emotions in certain scenes, the different angles used, and the sound design affording us an immersion into certain scenes elevated the viewing experience.
Despite the promising storyline, the plot execution in this film always seemed lacking. The encounters one would expect to be high-tension and fast-paced were flat, overly dramatic, and thus slow. In all the scenes where Saba is running away from someone, I expected a faster pace to emphasize the urgency of his escape. Also, these characters were not humanized to the viewers. Yes, we get a glimpse of why Saba chooses to keep the Ife Head, but in the film, the only thing we know is that he has a strained relationship with his father. Maybe Saba would have been more relatable if we saw him beyond his stoic exterior. Even in the lighter scenes with Abike, where the intention was to make him more vulnerable, I still couldn’t connect to him. Give us Saba before his smuggling days, perhaps. Or explore more of his relationship with the other characters. He just never transcends (develops) beyond his character summary—smuggler on the run. Even more, the overall storyline showed a lack of depth. It seemed that much of the thrill and excitement of the film was sacrificed for the higher-quality visuals and cinematic elements. So, despite how visually pleasing everything was, the continuous cat-and-mouse chase between the contracted killer and Saba got tiring to watch.
My favorite character, surprisingly, was the contracted killer. Jimmy Jean-Louis understood his assignment and more than fulfilled his role. He was the classic killer machine: no questions asked, ruthless, skilled, with empty, dead eyes. A thrill indeed.
At the end, we see the Ife Head roll to a standalone point as if to say that it belongs to no one. It is, in that sense, a reflection of greedy desires and a punisher of sorts, as everyone who tries to possess it is met with a damning fate.
Might this be creative license or reality?
**Precious Nzeakor, winner of the CORA book review prize might be a medical student, but her career path has not taken away her strong passion for the arts, whatever form it may take.
