The legend of Madam Koikoi has given rise to countless origin stories, each striving to unravel the mythology behind this popular figure. In one version, she is cast as a cruel educator who terrorized her students with unprovoked beatings, only to meet a tragic end in a fatal accident after being dismissed. Another account, culled from a 2003 Vanguard report, depicts her as a malevolent teacher whose arsenal of punishment tools was rivaled only by the ominous click of her signature red heels echoing through school corridors, until angry students turned on her, ending her reign of terror with her death.
Despite these differing narratives, the core of every retelling remains the same: a thirst for retribution. This fundamental theme of vengeance forms the backbone of two cinematic adaptations: Netflix’s Madam Koikoi (2023), directed by Jay Franklyn Jituboh, and Amazon Prime’s Ms Kanyin (2025), directed by Ikechukwu Jerry Ossai. Both films draw from this folklore, weaving the legend’s enduring thread of blood-thirsty revenge into their screen narratives.
Given the absence of a single, definitive source text for the Madam Koikoi legend, both films display some fidelity to the folklore’s essential elements. Core components remain intact: vengeance, the iconic red footwear, and the boarding school setting. However, Jituboh’s Madam Koikoi takes a notable creative liberty by reimagining the character’s death as unrelated to student violence, a narrative choice that deepens the film’s thematic arc.
While both adaptations depict Madam Koikoi as a vengeful teacher, they diverge significantly in exploring her psychology and motivations. In Madam Koikoi, the spirit’s awakening is triggered by a sexual assault near a cursed tree, where mystical forces bind her until a breach in the mythical contract releases her fury. This version offers a more focused and morally coherent antagonist: she systematically targets those who remind her of her trauma, eliminating both her original attackers and others who commit similar acts of violence.
By contrast, Ms Kanyin portrays a more enigmatic, disoriented spirit. Her logic appears inconsistent: she spares Amara (Temi Otedola), the ringleader who orchestrated the theft against her, and delays justice for Finditae (Kanaga Eme Jnr), who set a dog on her, ultimately killing him with a simple defenestration rather than the elaborate deaths she devises for others. The film seems more invested in staging visually arresting death sequences—toilet murders, vehicular carnage, drownings—than in maintaining narrative clarity about who deserves retribution and why. This difference reveals each director’s priorities: Jituboh emphasizes moral reckoning, while Ossai privileges spectacle over a consistent framework of justice.
Jituboh’s Madam Koikoi stands out for its strong casting. Amanda (Martha Ehinome), the male quartet, and Edna (Nene Nwanyo) all deliver convincing performances that anchor the film in genuine human emotion. Chuks Joseph is particularly impressive, demonstrating remarkable emotional range through subtle facial expressions and precise dialogue delivery that lend his character real depth. The film’s crowning achievement, however, is Ireti Doyle’s commanding turn as Mother Superior—a masterclass in portraying desperation and determination that makes her struggle to preserve the institution both believable and compelling.
In contrast, Ms Kanyin is hampered by inconsistent performances that undermine its credibility. While Michelle Dede offers a commendable portrayal of the titular character (working skillfully within the confines of a flawed script), the supporting cast fails to rise to her level. The central clique lacks both chemistry and convincing motivation; their friendship feels arbitrary and hollow. Even more problematically, these characters do not convincingly represent 1990s Nigerian teenagers. Instead, they come across as contemporary Lagos private school students, using profanity and cultural cues that feel more British than Nigerian.
Natse’s trademark bad-boy charisma, while appealing in other contexts, feels out of place in this period ghost story. Among the ensemble, Chisom (Toluwani George) shows genuine promise, but even her performance is undercut by questionable directorial choices, most glaringly in a scene where she sports a Marvel backpack, a clear anachronism that shatters the film’s 1990s setting. Additionally, in one of the first scenes, Amara writes in a 2024 diary. These kinds of continuity problems abound, and it’s no surprise they slipped through, given the absence of a credited continuity manager. They exemplify the film’s struggles with period authenticity and attention to detail.
However, Ms Kanyin does showcase superior visual craftsmanship, distinguished by vibrant aesthetics, curated color palettes, and polished costume design that elevate its overall production value. While Madam Koikoi maintains solid visual standards, it cannot quite match the refined artistry that Nemsia Studios brings to the project, a hallmark of their brand-defining style.
Madam Koikoi succeeds in constructing a more coherent narrative, despite its own flaws, notably two gratuitous sexual assault scenes that feel narratively unnecessary. The film invests time in establishing Madam Koikoi’s origin story through believable character interactions and logical plot progression, lending weight to its central conflict.
Ms Kanyin, on the other hand, relies heavily on contrived coincidences that strain credibility. The revelation of Madam Koikoi’s backstory hinges on an implausible chain of chance encounters: Musti (Demola Adedoyin) and Chisom just happen to meet a school worker who coincidentally packed Ms Kanyin’s necklace and just happens to have a father with intimate knowledge of the legend. This cascade of conveniences feels lazy and undermines audience investment.
The film’s climax further compounds these issues with equally problematic choices. Amara’s inexplicable decision to shout “bye” in French while burning the cursed tree is jarring, as is the ease with which the centuries-old timber ignites. Most bewildering is Ms Kanyin’s sudden return to humanity, a transformation with no narrative justification, suggesting the filmmakers prioritized a neatly resolved ending over consistent, logical storytelling
In our 2023 review of Jituboh’s Madam Koikoi, Aromolaran aptly described it as “a ghost story that doesn’t scare much.” By comparison, Ms Kanyin abandons the ghost story framework altogether, failing to produce even the faintest frisson of fear. Instead, it plays out like a formulaic Hollywood teen slasher, featuring privileged young protagonists whose reckless actions unleash a malevolent force that methodically hunts them down.
While Madam Koikoi may fall short of delivering true scares, it at least sustains the atmospheric tension expected of horror. Ms Kanyin, on the other hand, produces a film that is neither here nor there. Where one film stumbles in execution, the other fails in conception, a distinction that ultimately defines their respective places within the canon of Madam Koikoi adaptations.
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