“All of Us” Fails With Inconsistent Acts But Signifies a New Era in Nigerian Filmmaking

A Range Rover glides to a stop in an elite high school. Inside, Iyabo Ojo talks to her twins, Isaac and Ivy (played by Enioluwa Adeoluwa and Priscilla Ojo), who radiate both excitement and nervousness. Beyond the tinted windows, students mill about the grounds as they reunite on the first day of the new school year. The camera pans across the campus, introducing us to the series’ core ensemble: a group of high schoolers. Their friendships and rivalries are immediately palpable, hinting at the drama to come. Yet beneath the surface of seemingly ordinary high school conflicts, there’s an undercurrent of something deeper, and they have no idea that their bonds will soon be tested by the forces of life and death.

Produced by Enioluwa Adeoluwa, All of Us is not the typical high school series. It ties in with the acclaimed Spanish series, Elite, where privileged teenagers find themselves entangled in a web of murder mysteries. Like Elite, the narrative structure is gripping, opening with the discovery of a corpse, then unspooling backward to reveal the events that led to the incident. However, the absence of a central figure to anchor the story is disorienting, and the line between the audience’s empathy and suspicion blurs with each passing episode. 

When a high school teacher, Marcus (Adeoluwa Okusaga), is found dead at Ahmad’s resumption house party, some drama is expected. Instead, it falls flat, with the group’s reactions to the sudden appearance of a corpse lacking real shock and panic. The subsequent attempts to conceal the body are equally unconvincing, bordering on the farcical. Running parallel to the central murder mystery, the series’ subplots struggle to engage. Elijah’s strained relationship with his father, Layla’s relationship with Marcus, Layla’s mother’s complicated romantic entanglements, and Chinasa’s family’s financial struggles feel underdeveloped and fail to resonate emotionally.

Perhaps most disappointing is the underutilization of the show’s veteran talent. Despite boasting a cast that includes luminaries like Adunni Ade, Ireti Doyle, Kate Henshaw, and Chioma Akpotha, their performances lack the depth one would expect from actors of their caliber. But this is no fault of theirs. The inclusion of social media influencers, presumably to attract a larger audience, backfires spectacularly. Their inexperience in front of the camera is palpable, creating a discordant on-screen dynamic that drags down even the established actors’ performances. The dialogue is peppered with indigenous languages, and while potentially aiming for authenticity, it comes across as an attempt to mask the shortcomings in characterization and plot.

What matters is that All of Us marks Enioluwa Adeoluwa’s filmmaking debut, and more importantly, it reflects the current state of Nigeria’s evolving film industry. 

YouTube has long been a vital platform for Nigerian filmmakers, particularly those outside the mainstream industry. As a digital archive for classic Nollywood productions, it preserves the industry’s roots for new generations. The platform’s appeal is twofold; it significantly reduces distribution costs while offering filmmakers a chance to monetize their work through ad revenue.

Recently, there’s been a notable shift in the Nigerian film landscape, with an influx of high-quality productions debuting on YouTube. This trend isn’t limited to up-and-coming directors, established stars are also embracing the platform. Bimbo Ademoye’s Last Straw, released on August 10, exemplifies this movement. Similarly, Beverly Naya’s documentary Skins, which explores colorism, found a second life on YouTube in June after its initial 2020 Netflix release. This pivot towards YouTube marks a significant change in the industry. Filmmakers would no longer feel compelled to wait for partnerships with streaming giants like Netflix or Amazon Prime to showcase their work. Additionally, the platform offers immediate access to a global audience, allowing creators to build their brand and fanbase independently.

However, the sustainability of YouTube-based web series in Nigeria faces challenges. For one, the fear of piracy. Yet, this issue isn’t unique to YouTube releases—even Netflix-distributed films like Toyin Abraham’s Malaika (2024) have fallen victim to illegal distribution. One thing is sure, YouTube’s role in Nigerian cinema appears poised for growth. As more creators recognize its potential, we’re likely to see an increase in both the quantity and quality of Nigerian content on YouTube, possibly reshaping the country’s film industry in the process.

In the meantime, filmmakers should not see YouTube as an excuse for quality compromise. All of Us serves as a cautionary tale in this regard, highlighting areas where emerging creators need to focus their attention. The series’ cinematography and lighting are particularly problematic. Inconsistent lighting throughout scenes disrupts the visual flow, diminishing the impact of key moments. The dialogue also raises concerns about the depth of the scriptwriting process, especially the lines delivered by Priscilla Ojo and Jerry Chuks (popularly known as Softmadeit) which often veer into cliché territory. Moreover, the plot suffers from predictable twists across the four episodes that seasoned viewers might find lacking in originality. There is room for significant improvement in storytelling and direction.