Chee Keong Cheung’s “The Son of the Soil” and its Storybuilding Issue

Globally, cinema is an illusion and filmmakers work in the business of illusion. Through their artistic production, moving images, sound, scenes, they curate a world that matches one viewers are familiar with. The attentive storyteller, performer and filmmaker learn to progressively infuse quotidian details into their stories, performance and films. The more convincing the details are, the easier it is for the audience to believe the story. In an age where the boundaries of realism are being pushed in cinema through new technologies such as high definition cameras and 3D visuals, the filmmakers are constantly trying to create a more believable illusion of reality in film. 

Nollywood is no different, it is also illusive. Its filmmakers, from Old to New Nollywood create stories and characters that mirror recognizable aspects in our society. Nigerians know that the films and characters they watch are “fictional” but courtesy of storybuilding, it begins to feel real enough that the audience responds to them as if the characters exist outside the story. 

Veteran Nigerian actors, including Kanayo O. Kanayo, Pete Edochie, Nkem Owoh, Patience Ozokwor, and others, have, for decades, become recognisable character identities. Actors like Margaret Bandele Olayinka, popularly known as Iya Gbonkan, Toyin “Abeni Agbon” Oladiran, Chiwetalu Agu, Abija, Peter Fatomilola and others have also been accused of occultism courtesy of their roles in occult-themed films. Today, these Nigerian veterans and contemporary actors are leaning into these stereotypical characters. 

Iya Gbonkan, has frequently shared how her legendary portrayal of witches in Koto Orun led to intense spiritual and personal challenges. She recounted experiencing “real-life” spiritual confrontations after her breakout role in the 1989 movie Koto Orun. Hollywood actors have similar experiences Although the industry typically celebrates actors for their range, several actors have faced severe real-world harassment and online abuse from audiences unable to distinguish the actor from their villainous characters. This conversation on creating believable illusions points to where  Chee Keong Cheung‘s Son of the Soil struggles with storybuilding. The film, now streaming on Netflix made its public and world premiere at the Black Star International Film Festival (BSIFF) 2025 winning the Best Film, Best Director, and Best International Showcase. For its African premiere in 2025, it headed to African International Film Festival (AFRIFF), where it won the Audience Choice Award. At the 2025 Best of Nollywood Awards, it was awarded Best Child Actress and Most Promising Actor, with five additional nominations. We can say the film, owing to these awards, has attracted critical attention and mainstream visibility since its release on Netflix. 

Directed by British-Chinese filmmaker Cheung, Son of the Soil isn’t concerned about telling an emotional and convincing story. Rather, the writing, performance, and directing is obsessed with convincing audiences that it’s an action thriller set in the heart of Lagos, Nigeria. The film marks a significant international collaboration between the UK and Nollywood, and is often described as Nigeria’s answer to John Wick or Taken.

The film follows the story of Zion Ladejo (played by Razaaq Adoti), an ex-military personnel, living a quiet life in the United States while his sister, Ronke (Sharon Rotimi), and mother (Patience Ozokwor) struggle with economic hardship in Lagos. At the same time, a dangerous fentanyl-based drug cocktail known as “Matrix” populated the street, distributed by Dr. Baptiste (Philip Asaya) and his henchman, Shakabula (Taye Arimoro). 

By chance, Ronke witnesses and records a murder connected to the drug trade. Because she saw the crime, she becomes a target and is eventually killed. Her death compels Zion to return to the country on a mission for revenge. The film centers on his one-man war against a criminal underworld supported by both corrupt police and street gangs. To get Dr. Baptiste and his minions, Zion must deal with these obstacles, as well as the trauma from his sister’s death. The film also highlights the rot within law enforcement and the healthcare system that allows the drug trade to flourish. 

Cheung (known for the zombie action epic Redcon-1), leaned heavily into action in Son of the Soil. He featured machete fights, intense chases through slums, and the overwhelming fondness for Dutch-angle cinematography in the film, capturing the  chaos and tight spaces on Lagos streets. 

But the film mostly fails to ground its storytelling in a carefully curated world. The visceral violence that defines the film has been described as a “voyeuristic vision of Lagos’ street life detached from any real commentary and narrative philosophy.” 

One thing that Old Nollywood does perfectly is tether its storytelling, characters, and their motivations to inherently recognizable local realities. From spiritual elements to the supernatural, the films anchored themselves in that deep understanding of Nigerian society and experiences, and the result was what this review described earlier : actors being synonymous with their roles due to how intimately close they are to reality. The performance felt convincing because the stories rooted in the audience’s reality made it possible to temporarily suspend disbelief. 

But, watching Son of the Soil and its fondness for action, it becomes important to ask : where is this story set? While the film visually situates itself in Lagos, its narrative world often feels detached from the social and cultural context that should give the story weight.

When we watch action films like, Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger), John Rambo (Sylvester Stallone), John Wick (Keanu Reeves), Mission Impossible (Tom Cruise), and other foreign action-driven stories and actors, what get us enamoured by their performance is how the writing has tricked and convinced us into believing their performance. In John Wick, for instance, the film spends significant time building John’s reputation as the feared “Baba Yaga” before he even throws a punch. By the time he begins fighting, the audience already accepts him as a “mythological” figure. The same is true for some Old Nollywood films and characters. The writer tediously and skilfully set up the actors as villains so that when they acted out evil on screen, the audience accepted it thanks to strong writing. 

Most of this storybuilding is significantly missing in Son of the Soil and other Nigerian films that have tried to clone Hollywood and foreign action films. The action genre demands a level of technicality and financing that the Nigerian film industry doesn’t possess. But what the Nigerian filmmakers, as shown by their Old Nollywood ancestors, have shown is that they can tell convincing stories and make the audience believe anything. That takes careful and conscious writing and storybuilding. Son of the Soil proves that spectacle alone cannot carry a film. Without careful storybuilding, even the most ambitious action films will struggle to sustain the illusion cinema promises.