AFRIFF 2025: “The Boy Who Gave”: Allison Precious Emmanuel’s Film is Pedantic about its Lead’s Suffering

In 2008, Segun Ogungbe’s Ibi Giga (loosely translated as high places) was produced. This film which would thrust Ogungbe into public attention was also written, directed, led and produced by him. The film tells the story of Opeyemi, a hardworking but destitute man. Opeyemi does menial jobs and exerts himself but his financial and social situation doesn’t improve. Poverty has stamped itself on him and his family. For Nigerians, this film and the characters’ quotidian realities match theirs. Spiritual forces and personal failures, not systemic and governmental failures, are touted as causes of his penury. The Nigerian capitalist economy and cannibalistic politicians are absolved of blame.  

In 2025, Kemi Adetiba’s To Kill a Monkey landed on Netflix after years in production. The series recalls fragments of Ogungbe’s Ibi Giga. Efe (William Benson) is a graduate subjected to unrelenting levels of hardship thanks to the Nigerian economy. The series’s first episode is saturated with scenes that announce Efe’s suffering and misfortune. The series momentarily faults the Nigerian political and economic climate as responsible for Efe’s financial situation. Ogungbe and Addetiba’s characters came to mind after watching Allison Precious Emmanuel’s The Boy Who Gave. 

Allison Precious Emmanuel’s directorial feature debut, The Boy Who Gave is one of the Nigerian titles that screened at the African International Film Festival(AFRIFF). Emmanuel is majorly known for his performances in Masquerade of Aniedo and Hijack 93. While he has a few directorial credits,  The Boy Who Gave is his first feature. As the writer, director, lead, production designer and executive producer, the actor-director pushed himself as a creative person.

The emotional film tells the story of Idia, mostly known as Broda (Allison Precious Emmanuel) and his siblings: his brilliant brother D-Boy (Hart Andrew) and Priye (Abbey Delight Dagogo), his quirky and mischievous sister. The death of their parents thrusts teenage Idia into a saviour complex. No relatives to help and a community to lean on, Idia becomes Broda – the older brother who gives his all for his siblings. 

The almost-two-hours film obsessively details Broda’s trials and tribulations  and his ultimate goal to ensure his siblings are taken care of. Unmindful of the physically exerting jobs he does, he strives hard for them at his self detriment. Characters and events get introduced and staged just for the sake of showing how far Broda will go for his siblings’ comfort. The film’s enthusiasm for Broda’s suffering hinders the film from narratively progressing and his suffering for his mostly appreciative and occasionally ungrateful siblings gets repeated to the point of redundancy. What are we supposed to do with his suffering? 

The film’s audience, regardless of their financial position, are similar to Broda. In Nigeria, it’s a common cultural expectation that individuals contribute financially to the well-being of their family members, including siblings, parents, children, and other relatives. This sense of communal responsibility, described as Black Tax,  is deeply rooted in the country’s cultural values, where family ties are highly prioritized. As a result, Broda’s strong sense of obligation to provide for his loved ones, even if it means making personal sacrifices, isn’t strange. It’s the most Nigerian and African thing to do. On this cultural and generally known fact, the film is correct. However, what new insight that the director and film brings to this conversation isn’t palpable. 

At every twist and turn, the script stages characters and events that rehash one point: Broda is selfless and suffering. In this light, D-Boy and Priye aren’t just his siblings, they become staged misfortunes. Uncle Opuada (Ugochukwu Nwachukwu), their late father’s brother, isn’t just a callous relative but someone that will assault Priye. Priye’s assault isn’t framed as a brutal sexual assault but a staged plot device that will derail Broda’s academic dream. Broda’s friendship with another street boy played by Chuks Joseph isn’t to provide him boyhood leisure but to reiterate how resolute he is in finding a future for his sibling. Pere, Broda’s romantic partner, becomes another conduit to over-explain his suffering and selflessness. The film appears not to see Broda as human. And maybe that’s the point. Life is a collage of endless battle and Broda is one of its victims. Until his avoidable death, the film keeps throwing endless battles Broda’s way. However, it becomes important to ask, what are we to do with Broda’s suffering?

The pedantic and almost-obsessive interest in showing Broda’s suffering makes the film overstay its welcome. Broda gets convicted of a crime, delivers a supposedly emotional monologue and gets hanged. D-Boy, the family’s brilliant child, became a drug addict. All these to say what? The film’s incapable of connecting Broda and his siblings destitute reality to a larger systemic failure. The Boy Who Gave isn’t able to narrativize how economic success and failure isn’t a personal or moral failure but politically inspired. The film hyper-focuses on Broda’s harsh economic realities despite his hard work mostly absolving governmental failure but heightening personal failure. 

The film has its good moments. Broda and his siblings’ home looks and feels lived in. Shot in Port Harcourt, the film and its characters aren’t concerned about looking beautiful. Broda’s clothes are either torn or exceedingly dirty, Priye’s hair is mostly unkempt and their rooms are small but mostly comfortable for them. These images reinforce their destitute situation. Also, the film captures the archetypal love-hate relationship amongst siblings. The casual banter amongst Broda, Priye and Duma is distinctly that of a working-class Nigerian family. The romantic relationship between Pere and Broda is another strength of the film. Their mostly aimless conversation reeks of teenage exuberance. The framing and lighting in the film shows a director keen about his actors’ placement in a scene and the metaphorical meaning it conveys. Broda’s momentary moments of relief and comfort are lit by very blue and warm light. While his mostly tensed moments are conveyed through reddish and harsh lights. These lighting and framing choices further express Broda’s struggles. But, despite this, the mostly unsure script diminishes the film’s other strength. Yes, Broda is suffering. But, again, what are we supposed to do with his suffering? 

Ogungbe’s Ibi Giga and Adetiba’s To Kill A Monkey, especially its first episode, are often remembered for archiving the suffering of a Nigerian man. The general reaction to Emmanuel’s film during its screening at AFRRIF shows the film will suffer a similar fate. The film will be remembered as one that made its audience cry. Beyond that, nothing.