The Nigerian and African pre-colonial and colonial past is a space of continuous contest, trauma, nostalgia and pride. Colonialism enforced a brutal separation from personal, cultural, geographical and national identity. The cultural and spiritual life and identity of British colonies, like Nigeria, was forced to unfavourably exist and contest with British religion, culture, values and […]
3 weeks ago
The Nigerian and African pre-colonial and colonial past is a space of continuous contest, trauma, nostalgia and pride. Colonialism enforced a brutal separation from personal, cultural, geographical and national identity. The cultural and spiritual life and identity of British colonies, like Nigeria, was forced to unfavourably exist and contest with British religion, culture, values and worldview. The British’s indirect rule colonial policy has been described as being less brutal in comparison with the direct and brutal French’s policy of assimilation. Africans, unmindful of colonisers’ languages and policies, were compelled to shed off their cultural and national identities and skin for foreign ones. Adoption of these foreign tongues and skin economically and politically enforced. In present African societies, this traumatic African colonial past has made knowledge of African past, culture and language impossible. History isn’t strictly taught. But, in the Nigerian film industry, there has been a mainstream and commercial drive to “tell authentic African stories.” This obsession with African stories, culture and past has produced Kunle Afolayan’s Anikulapo and Anikulapo: Rise of the Spectre, Femi Adebayo ’s King of Thieves and Jagun Jagun and Orisa co-directed with Tijani and Tope Adebayo and Bolanle Austen-Peters’ House of Ga’a. and James Omokwe’s Osamede, executive produced by Lilan Olubi, is a recent addition to this culture-and-commercial-driven movement for a cinematic representation of the African past.
Osamede follows the story of the eponymous protagonist (played by Ivie Okujaye Egboh), a young girl who discovers her superhuman abilities which further propel her to continue her activist-inclined critique and contestation with colonial authority and monarchical complicitness. Set against the backdrop of Bini culture, Omokwe’s film is in recent Nollywood film history, one of the non-Yoruba epics. Staged during the British invasion of Benin Kingdom of 1897, this film starts with Iyase (played with admirable relish by William Benson), Benin’s most powerful and feared warlord, defending his land against Rogers’ (Alexander Bud) colonial attacks. Surprising to Iyase, the Oba of Benin approves the colonial invasion. These are the story elements that Lolo Eremie, the writer, played with. In this sense, Osamede, from the titular character’s perspective, is a coming of age story and a personal and political resistance against constituted social and political authorities
Osamede’s life is curated as a series of revolts against injustice, enslavement and abuse. In a scene, Osamede respectfully lampoons an abusive husband, in another she questions why, as rightful owners of the land, they still toil and labor for colonizers, critique the king’s complicit involvement in the people’s enslavement and fought against Iyase’s selfish desire for political power. Thus, in her personal life, Osamede leads a resistance-conscious life. Although the film doesn’t comprehensively dwell on it, she gets confused when she discovers her latent ancient power. That this discovery gets brilliantly timed with Iyase’s prison escape makes it impossible for Osamede to dwell on her new identity. She gets thrown into a journey not just for her identity but for protecting the Kingdom from Iyase’s powerhungry desires and colonial rule.
The challenge with hero-conscious narrative and framing is that it desensitizes people from recognising their political power and force. This is a point that Osamede repeatedly challenges. Yes, she is prone to raising calls for justice and better working conditions and pay. But, she isn’t shy of encouraging her friends and others to recognise their collective power. Also, she’s the only one that challenges Aibangbe(Lancelot Imaseun)’s prophecy of a saviour. Even when she lost her awaken power to Iyase, she’s still motivated to challenge him despite the power he possessed. This narrative and political choice shows that Osamede doesn’t consider herself a “savior” and when she reluctantly accepts this touted divine identity, she isn’t disinterested in rousing the people’s consciousness.
The film isn’t timid in reiterating the involvement of the Oba of Benin and by extension the African monarchs in accommodating and sustaining colonial rule for personal interest. These traditional rulers willfully sell off their land, culture and people for colonial gifts and protection. And, Iyase, who somewhat resisted colonial invasion does so for personal gain. He isn’t different from the African monarchs who ruled at the people’s expense and resisted colonial attack because of the need to secure and defend their monopolistic control of collective wealth. Thus, Iyase’s rejection of Major Wild isn’t a selfless, cultural and nationalistic defense of Benin from external pressure and control. But, a protection of his right to possibly control and exploit Benin human and geographical resources. African cinema is populated with this character archetype. C.J “Fiery” Obasi’s Mami Wata‘s Jabi criticized Mama Efe and the river goddess’ waning power. Ousmane Sembene’s Xala has African nationalists occupying political power after “chasing” French colonizers from controlling Senegal. But, like Obasi’s Jabi, Sembene’s African rulers and Eremie’s Iyase, these conscious Africans were just scheming and hoping to control political and economic life, not lead a revolutionary life or movement. Their words, manners and actions are deceptively progressive and revolutionary. But, on deep scrutiny, it doesn’t represent emancipation for the average person.
Osamede is currently showing in Nigerian cinemas. As a language film, it continues the movement for representing African narrative and past onscreen. Although there’s a suggested blooming romance between Osamdede and Nosa (Lexan Peters), the film doesn’t romanticize the African past. It presents the Benin Kingdom story using the personal story of a young orphaned woman. Its use of predominant Bini language helps challenge the generational cultural and identity crisis. The film continues the ongoing negotiation against African erasure and colonialism that The Black is Beautiful movement started in the United States.
This review wouldn’t be complete without a critique of the soulless use of AI in Osamede. To dramatize a narrated history, the film uses AI to replicate characters, moments and history. In that fleeting onscreen moment, we watch as AI images and characters of supposed Benin ancestors move in sync to the recounted history. The filmmakers’ use of AI might have been an “easier” and less expensive choice. But, for a film that expended resources towards building a film village to accommodate the epoch of the film, it is a lazy choice. The soulless and bland-looking pictures and characters horrified me to the point of anger. It’s a minute moment that robs the film of its strength of historical and cultural representation.
