“Lisabi: The Uprising” Walks The Fine Line Between History And Storytelling

Based on events of the 18th century in Yoruba society, Lisabi: The Uprising explores the rise of a farmer-turned-warrior and native of Egba land, Lisabi Agbongbo-Akala who unites his people for a bloody rebellion against the oppression of the Oyo Empire and her overzealous tribute collectors, the Ilari. Produced by Oyebade Adebimpe Adedimeji and Victoria Akujobi and directed by Niyi Akinmolayan, the film gives a sneak peek at the political and military strategies of the Oyo Empire in pre-colonial times.

While history serves as a resource for the production, Lisabi: The Uprising thrives on artful storytelling achieved through a sequential narrative style, decent cinematography and the use of special and visual effects. The film accommodates both fact and fiction, blending truths about Lisabi’s existence and Oyo-Egba relations with made-up incidents, all of which are aimed at achieving a compelling narrative. Early scenes of Alaafin emerging in his palace and proclaiming the death penalty on Olu Olodan establish how powerful the Alaafin is. The Alaafin is played by Odunlade Adekola whose first scenic appearance with physique and body language creates regal awe. The expansionist and colonialist ideals of the Alaafin are expressed through the Ilari who, led by Sangodeyi (Ibrahim Chatta), abuse power as they move from one town to another exercising their duties.

Thanks to Niyi Akinmolayan and Yinka Olaoye, the script comes out fairly well when interpreted on screen. The plot is simple and flows in a natural sequence, with key moments such as the friendship between Lisabi (Lafeef Adedimeji) and Osokenu (Debo Adedayo/Mr Macaroni), the murder of Osokenu, and the formation of a youth-centered communal farming system, Egbe Aro, contributing to the development of the story. There are barely immaterial subplots, as the conflict of the story—the tensions between the Egba and the Ilari of Oyo— reach an intense and intriguing point of belligerence at the end of the film. The mildly used cliffhanger suggests an escalation of tensions, with  the audience kept in suspense ahead of the release of the second part of the story in 2025.

Lateef Adedimeji, who recently starred as a protagonist in Jagun Jagun, maintains a similar energy in his portrayal of Lisabi. On both occasions, Adedimeji is the underdog protagonist, a type of character who comes from a humble and negligible background but possesses certain admirable qualities and is driven, with the odds stacked against him, to cause a major change in a societal system. In Femi Adebayo’s Jagun Jagun, the protagonist, Gbotija possesses special powers and a commendable attitude with which he works his way up from obscurity to relevance and influences a section of the warriors to face their leader Ogundiji. A similar case can be made for the eponymous protagonist in Lisabi: The Uprising, a hardworking, lovable, selfless and fairly successful farmer who successfully coordinates and prepares the youth mentally, physically and spiritually. There are other instances of  laudable character interpretations, particularly as seen in the performances of Mr Macaroni and Ibrahim Chatta. Chatta’s villainy in the film is reminiscent of his character as Gaa’s malevolent medicine man, Sasa L’eniyan, in Bolanle Austen-Peters House of Gaa.

Certain aspects of plot and character are, however, underdeveloped.  In traditional Yoruba society, the marriage rites begin with a man announcing her interest in a lady through the alarina, an intermediary. If the lady reciprocates interest, the alarina facilitates a meeting between the would-be couple. The man informs his family, who then arrange to meet the family of the would-be bride and make their intentions known. This procedural system encourages minimal contact and celibacy between the intending couple until their marriage rites and ceremony are completed. In Lisabi: The Uprising, the titular character plays the alarina, as he communicate Osokenu’s amorous intentions through a female friend Ikeola (Adebimpe Oyebade Adedimeji) to Abebi (ex-BBN housemate Liquorose). The story takes place in an era when the lavish display of romance between a couple before marriage is not encouraged. But the man and woman may, through conversations with their friends and family members, communicate their love.

In this film, there is very little room to access the personality of Abebi beyond the subtle smiles and reticence—her character and thoughts remain obscure till the rape scene and death. So, the entire prenuptial romance of Osokenu and Abebi is reduced to a scene of minimal display of affection. We cannot even be too sure of how genuine Abebi’s affection is for Osokenu because, earlier on, the conversation between Ikeola and Lisabi reveals Abebi’s soft spot for Lisabi.

In Yoruba traditions, monarchs are barred from seeing dead bodies. Once a person gives up the ghost in the presence of the monarch, the monarch turns his back against the corpse. But in Lisabi: The Uprising, there is a scene where the Alaafin tests the new guns brought by the white men by shooting some slaves at close range, watching them die—a moment which violates the sacred belief and undermines the authority of the Alaafin.

Lisabi: The Uprising possesses an aesthetic quality that is not only admirable but is also indicative of the increasing attention to high production values in modern Nigerian cinema. The cinematography, championed by DOPs Nora Awolowo and Barnabas Emordi, features different camera shot angles which gives certain impressions that help to drive the narrative forward. For instance, aerial drone shots, similar to descriptions of a story’s background, are used to establish the sceneries—such as when the Ilari, appearing on horsebacks, are seen riding into the town of Igbeyin through a road flanked by forests while the soundtrack suggests the looming threat.

Hakeem Onilogbo, known for his prolificity as arguably Nollywood’s foremost special effects artist, brings his A-game to Lisabi: The Uprising as he leads a team on the project. Their efforts include tricks for scenes of bloodbath and the prosthetic head signifying the severed head of Sangodeyi. The tribal marks, costumes and other aspects of the art direction are also apt, as they enhance the cultural backdrop of the film—with due credits to the Akinmolayan-led Anthill Studios (also responsible for Eniola Ajao’s Beast of Two Worlds).

In an era where Yoruba epics are produced and released on international streaming platforms like Netflix (think House of Gaa, Jagun Jagun, King of Thieves, Beast of Two Worlds), Lisabi: The Uprising clearly has its place as an evocative work of art hewn from the fabric of history. With fact and fiction combined in one artistic breath, the film elevates the epic form of storytelling in Nigerian film and television.