“House of Ga’a” Celebrates Yoruba Culture, But Has Notable Flaws

The narrative unfolds through an omniscient third-person perspective later revealed to be Oyemekun (Mike Afolarin), the youngest son of Bashorun Ga’a. We are immediately thrust into a battle scene featuring Ga’a (Femi Branch), surrounded by leather-clad warriors, his sons, and Ifa priest, Sasa L’eniyan (Ibrahim Chatta). Ga’a leads his forces to victory. Their triumphant return, bearing the severed head of their vanquished foe, the Nupe King, impresses Alaafin Labisi (Kunle Coker), the son of Alaafin Onisile, who elevates Ga’a to the esteemed position of Bashorun—the prime minister of Oyo, and whose authority rivals that of the Alaafin himself.  

House of Ga’a, a Netflix film directed by Bolanle Austen-Peters, chronicles the life of the most influential Bashorun in the Oyo Empire, a West African powerhouse that eclipsed even the renowned Ile-Ife in both might and prosperity. Set between the 17th and 18th centuries, the film explores the complex political landscape of this monarchical empire, but not without some shortcomings. Back then, power was delicately balanced between the Alaafin and the Oyomesi—a council of chiefs led by the Bashorun. Their authority was such that no Alaafin could ascend to the throne without their knowledge and consent, a dynamic that House of Ga’a successfully brings to life.

Femi Branch is the star of the show, not merely as its protagonist, but through his portrayal of Bashorun Ga’a. Branch infuses the character with a palpable sense of menace, perfectly capturing a man accustomed to absolute power. While the film takes some liberties with historical accuracy, the choices serve the narrative. For instance, the movie depicts Alaafin Labisi appointing Ga’a as Bashorun, whereas historical records indicate Ga’a assumed this role before Labisi had the authority to install anyone as Bashorun. However, Labisi’s fate remains true to history—driven to suicide by Ga’a’s opposition. 

The movie is clear on what it’s about: a tyrant blinded by power. As historian Lord Acton said, “Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Ga’a, despite being surrounded by a close circle including his sister (Toyin Abraham), his first wife Ayimba (Funke Akindele), his children—particularly Olaotan (Jide J’Blaze Oyegbile)—and the powerful Sasa L’eniyan, remained uncounseled throughout the movie. The only instances of visible disapproval occur from his wives when he takes a Nupe slave woman as his new bride. Similarly, the usually meek Oyemekun shows defiance when Ga’a forcibly claims Princess Agbonyin, Oyemekun’s true love, as another wife. Ga’s household only challenges his authority over matters involving women, suggesting not fear, but indifference to his other bad decisions that benefit them. This misplacement of priorities within Ga’a house ultimately leads them all—except Oyemekun—to doom. 

The cast demonstrates strong command of their roles, yet their delivery of the Yoruba language does not hold water. It’s particularly jarring that the subjects of the great Oyo Empire—notably Olaotan and Princess Agboyin—who subjugated the Dahomey Kingdom and amassed vast wealth in the 17th century, speak with a modern Lagos Yoruba accent rather than the rich Oyo dialect. This discrepancy might be more forgivable in a standard Nollywood production, but it undermines the authenticity of a serious historical biopic. Furthermore, the modern pronunciation of Muslim names like Zeinab and Idi Al-Farouk presents another anachronism. While it’s historically accurate that Muslim slaves from Nupe existed during this period, the flawless Arabic pronunciation is out of place, as only recently did Yoruba speakers learn to articulate Arabic names. 

Oyemekun’s character arc stands out as compelling. He transforms from a timid youth to a formidable warrior capable of challenging the powerful Idi Al-Farouk, defying his brother Olaotan’s prediction. Indeed, Oyemekun emerges as perhaps the most impressive warrior in the House of Ga’a, with his survival as the narrator feeling earned. Lateef Adedimeji reprises his familiar comic relief role as Abudu, reminiscent of his performances in Kunle Afolayan’s A Naija Christmas and Kayode Kasum’s Sugar Rush. His character’s betrayal—opening Ga’a’s doors and stealing Olaotan’s mythical helmet—feels predictable, as does his eventual fate.

Ga’a’s feud with Alaafin Labisi, while intriguing, suffers from underdevelopment. A brief flashback reveals young Labisi’s role in the death of Ga’a’s brother, with later dialogue hinting at how this event led to Ga’a’s father’s demise. However, this potentially rich narrative thread remains frustratingly vague. What exactly happened to Ga’s father? Is that why Ga’a became a power-hungry tyrant? One questions whether the directorial intent was to highlight only Ga’a’s spiritual aspect, neglecting his personal evolution, for even the most influential bashorun must have had formative experiences that shaped his character. Attempting to provide context through this underdeveloped subplot falls short and we are left with an incomplete understanding of Bashorun Ga’a’s true nature and motivations.

We see the extent of Ga’a’s power, helped by Sasa L’eniyan who gives him the ability to shapeshift into an elephant. However, this mystical prowess is underutilized in the disappointing battle scenes. Historically, warrior leaders in Yorubaland were known for their distinctive attire: animal hides adorned with beads, amulets, and feathers, symbolizing their connection to the physical and spiritual realms of warfare. House of Ga’a opts for a more generic, foreign-inspired aesthetic, with warriors donning leather-like armor largely devoid of traditional protective charms. The combat scenes, featuring steel swords, resemble Western fantasy epics like Game of Thrones more than authentic African warfare. Yet even Game of Thrones, for all its fantasy elements, showcased its magical aspects in battle, with dragons and other supernatural forces. One can’t help but wonder if the formidable powers of Sasa L’eniyan are limited to nocturnal, private demonstrations with Ga’a, rather than manifesting in the heat of battle where they could truly shine.

Nonetheless, House of Ga’a lives up to its title. The film depicts Ga’a’s household, replete with numerous wives and children, and his reign, marked by unprecedented power as he deposes four Oyo kings, his word reigning supreme till his death. While the star-studded cast of Nollywood icons occasionally threatens to overshadow the historical narrative, it ultimately brings this rich exploration of Yoruba culture to life. Director Bolanle Austen-Peters, known for the 2023 biopic Funmilayo Ransome Kuti, once again demonstrates her skill in bringing African history to the screen. The film offers an interesting, if sometimes flawed, window into a period of West African history, balancing cultural insight with some predictability.