“After 30”: Momo Spaine’s Female-Focused Story is Plain, Precise and Potent

Momo Spaine’s After 30 starts on a brilliant note.  Sitting at the airport, Temi (Damilola Adegbite) concisely recounted pertinent details from Before 30, the series that birthed this new film. In her concise recounting, the film skillfully intimates viewers with almost-a-decade information without being stuffy and lacking. Nkem (Beverly Naya), after experiencing heartbreak, decides to fill the crack with more men, sexploits and achievements. Aisha (Meg Otanwa) has successfully built a steady, loving and committed relationship with Shareef (Patrick Diabuah) but suffers from postpartum depression after birthing Tawuhida. Ama (Anee Icha) is still careful in exploring her sexual desires and fantasies. Lagos men and dating scene still bore her until ChefAlice (Celestina Aleobua), her catering school coach unsettles her resolve. Then, there is Temi, the film’s narrator and anchor. After experiencing tragedy, she has answered the clarion call of celibacy while banishing any appearance and gesture of love until Kunle (Samuel Asa’ah ) comes calling. 

A sequel to Before 30, Spaine’s After 30 centres the story of the already introduced four friends. The narratively and structurally concise film trails the story of these women as they try reclaiming themselves and shun societal, cultural and religious voices. Although the custodians of judgmental stares aren’t present in this film, we notice their subconscious movement in the hesitant steps taken by the ladies. We notice it in Temi’s mother. In Ama’s embrace of the church after questioning her sexuality.  Using the four friends, the film raises these questions: What are we all afraid of? and What are we taking a flight from? Is it from love or knowledge of ourselves? 

Bibi Ukpo, BB Sasore and Omorinsojo Spaine’s writing is crystal clear, allowing for no moment of uncertainty and confusion. Distinctively, with Temi’s story, the writing affords us, through Temi’s narration, portion size entrance into her three friends’ story and journey onwards self actualization. We don’t know too much nor do we know little about them. A perfect serving, the jointly written story serves information and details that aren’t just important but pushes the narrative to a conclusive point. The friends’ unique traits, nuances and personality neatly slips into their dialogue and actions. That the film doesn’t appear bland, glossy and empty like other films that spotlights the friendship of rich women, is mostly due to its frugal and consistent writing. That the friends’ wealth doesn’t drown their individual stories is such a powerful aspect of the writing. Even when they meet at fanciful spots (which is limited), the writing often makes their dialogue center around their individual stories and troubles and not market the spots they are in. This doesn’t dismiss  the director’s work in keeping the performances steady and that of the actors. But, as the spine of a film, the writing is solid. 

In writing the film’s supporting characters, the film doesn’t present them as space nor vacuum fillers. They exist as reminders of the flaws, troubles and journeys of the major characters. Although Alice is a breezy character, she has more force and depth when placed in context of Ama’s sexual orientation journey. Ayo (O.C. Ukeje) represents Temi’s deluded self and obsession with soulmates. The nameless and non-talking sexual partners of Nkem are physical representations of her quest for more. Hajiya (Ummi Baba-Ahmed), Aisha’s mother-in-law, opposes her disinterest in childbirth. 

The history of the Nigerian film industry is replete with scary, uneducated and tactless representations of queer stories. Films like Emotional Crack, Men in Love, Women Affairs  and others like it, presented a troubling narrative about queer Nigerians and community. This harmful narrative peddled by these films and filmmakers isn’t disconnected from the almost daily homophobic tweets and attacks that queer people receive. Also, it isn’t far removed from the The Same Sex Marriage Prohibition Act (SSMPA), which was signed into law in 2014. However, in recent times, we are witnessing a resurgence of positive narrative in mainstream media space and films and filmmakers telling positive and nuanced stories about queer Nigerians and their desires. After 30 is a worthy addition to these films with a forward-looking understanding and portrayal of queer Nigerians with Ama at the centre of it. The writing skillfully treats Ama’s possible queerness with care and compassion. The writing doesn’t present her as witless, confused and naive. Rather, we see her as someone conflicted about keeping up with the customs, values and traditions that has hitherto defined her life and her new reality and sexual orientation. \

Despite Aisha’s religious leaning front and countenance, she isn’t judgmental of Nkem’s sexual independence nor frown at the possibility of Ama’s queerness. Though Nkem and Aisha are technically closer to each other, Ama and Temi gracefully accept this. When they advise each other and they detour from it, it isn’t met with a malicious or painful response. Yes, there are outbursts. But, the outbursts quickly dissipate into warm and embracing understanding. Theirs isn’t a friendship nor sisterhood that sways the pendulum of judgment and righteousness over the others. Theirs is a sisterhood that knows when to take a seat back when needed, fight when needed and offer support when required. This system, despite their closeness, affords each of the friends their individuality and desire outside of the friendship and sisterhood. 

After 30 is a well written, performed and directed film that is worth repeated viewing. Each repeated viewing will reveal missed details. And, in an industry populated with easily vapourisable films and TV series, films like After 30 deserves their chance in the sun.