The Women Behind the Visual World of Mount Zion’s , “Agbara Nla: The Return”

In 1993, Mike Bamiloye wrote and directed Agbara Nla, which became a generational classic within and outside Christian circles. In 2026, the film returns as Agbara Nla: The Return, directed by Damilola Mike-Bamiloye and Joshua “JayMikee” Bamiloye. To craft the visual world, the expertise of Temi Ami-Williams (Costume Designer), Abisoye Omotosho (Special Effects and Make Up), and Joy Kadiri (Production Designer) were enlisted. 

Ahead of its theatrical release on 1st October, 2026, Culture Custodian spoke with the trio about the film’s visual world, and cross-departmental collaboration. 

This interview has been edited for clarity. 

Agbara Nla is a generational classic. From a personal and creative perspective, what does it mean to work on this contemporary version and create the visual language and world? Did you draw lessons from the original or create from scratch for a 2026 theatrical audience? And, as creatives, what does it mean to follow tradition and creatively deviate from it while honouring the source? 

Ami-Williams: I grew up watching Mount Zion films, so Agbara Nla feels very personal to me. In 2020, while I was at home battling cancer, I felt led to return to the older Mount Zion classics, and God used them to strengthen my faith. Five years after telling God I wanted to star in a Mount Zion film, my big brother Gaise Baba introduced me to Mr. Chris Odeh, and I found myself not only acting as Fikayomi in the remake of their very first film, but also designing the costumes. Creatively, the project was exciting because my background is in theatre and carnival costume. Creating costumes for extraterrestrial and metaphysical characters aligned with my strengths than simply styling everyday clothes. I got to think about colour, texture, silhouette and pattern, and how all of that would work alongside makeup, hair, and production design to establish the film’s visual world. Agbara Nla is my first feature as a costume designer, and I felt responsible to deliver at a professional level. I couldn’t simply reproduce the original film from 33 years ago; I had to honour what had been established while using the resources, craftsmanship, and visual language available to us today.

Kadiri: As a Christian, anything designed or created with and for faith in Christ would always be my priority. I grew up without watching Mount Zion films but knew the word “Ayamatanga!” and this attests to Agbara Nla’s fame and impact. When you work on an existing film, especially one with a massive influence, the pressure to do more is high. However, a remake still carries its own life and I wanted to do for this story what it needed. I repeatedly read the new script to get the essence of the story before watching the original. I quickly realized that though the world is now different, the message is the same. The first edition of Agbara Nla was successful because it was carried by the story and the message was clearly delivered without any distractions from the design. 

Omotosho: I watched the original when I was young, and honestly, it scared me. But beyond the fear, the message stayed with me. At that age, I was beginning to understand my faith for myself—not just being a Christian because my mother wanted me to be one, but understanding why I wanted to know God and eventually give my life to Christ. And Agbara Nla communicated something very strongly to me: that there is a spiritual world beyond what we see physically, and that we shouldn’t be oblivious to it. It made the reality of God and the spiritual realm feel very real to me. Coming back years later to work on the film felt surreal. 

Agbara Nla, like most faith-based films, focuses on spiritual warfare. How does one build the visual image for a metaphysical and hard-to-see image? What are the visual references to draw from? Was there a sense of communion and conversation with the previous artists who worked on the 1993 version or the film itself when interpreting and developing its visual language?

Ami-Williams: The starting point was understanding that Agbara Nla is about two kingdoms and the manifestation of spiritual authority. Scripture was an important reference, but I also looked at African traditional spirituality, indigenous ceremonial wear, and the natural habitats of these metaphysical creatures. For Olori Egbe and her children, instead of simply using leaves because they are forest spirits, I used different types of raffia, coloured tulle, and lycra to create something organic and otherworldly. With Oluweri, I used sequins, pearls, and fins to suggest her identity as a water creature, while flipping the traditional mermaid silhouette by bringing the tail into the bodice and framing the neckline. For the Aro Meta, I looked to hyenas because of their connection to the caves, while still retaining the black gown reference from the original and building on it with distressed mesh, tweed, and charcoal ball neck pieces that connected them to Isawuru. Ayamatanga has always had a sense of luxury, so for her I translated that into her marine world through gold, beaded lace, mesh, and a dramatic sculptural headpiece. There were nods to the original, and we were able to play with new silhouettes, materials, and techniques to create a visual language that felt contemporary and true to Agbara Nla’s spirit.

Joy Kadiri, Temi Ami-Williams, and Abisoye Omotosho.

Clothes are social and class signifiers, but in Agbara Nla they carry a spiritual connotation. How were you able to translate faith into texture? How do you make “spiritual warfare” readable through clothing, is there a costuming logic that separates light from darkness, or does it get murkier than that?

Ami-Williams: Clothes are definitely signifiers and I used them to show the characters’ spiritual and emotional states. With Kola, we needed to see his journey from walking with God, to missing divine instruction, experiencing a period of false prosperity, and eventually falling into extreme poverty. As the spiritual warfare intensifies, his wardrobe becomes increasingly grey, his suits look older and less structured, and his clothes begin to feel worn and ill-fitting. Bose’s burgundy and navy also subtly connect her visually to Ayamatanga and Isawuru. For Olaboye and Olatomi, they moved from affluence into much simpler lives in Muwonleru, but they still carry peace and confidence in the middle of their spiritual conflict. Interestingly, in the scene where the town mourns the death of a woman’s child, Olatomi wears white because, in that particular moment, the colour becomes a visual expression of her spiritual state: peace and purity in the middle of chaos. For me, that is where costume becomes more than clothing and part of storytelling.

The archetypal colours for darkness are often red, black, and other fright-inspiring colours. How did you approach costuming characters on both sides of the spiritual divide? Did you develop a visual vocabulary to distinguish the occult/witchcraft world from the “light” side? And were there moments where you strayed away from these too scary, too subtle, too cliché choices and why?

Ami-Williams: My colour choices were not driven by stereotypical ideas and that spiritual characters have to look frightening. At the same time, I had to remain faithful to the Yoruba cultural and historical context of the story. For Isawuru, red was important, but I explored different shades to create enough variation to sustain a two-hour film without making the visual language monotonous. The texture and material gave me freedom to look at the natural habitats associated with each spiritual force. The forest spirits were rooted in muted greens, browns, sage, and the colours of dried twigs and withering vegetation. The water spirits had a turquoise base with different sizes of sequins that would catch the sunlight and reflect like water. Ayamatanga’s gold communicated her excessive luxury, with black referencing her darker nature, while the Aro Meta combined black, brown, and murky whites to evoke bones and decay. Rather than rely on cliché colour codes, I build a visual vocabulary from culture, environment, character, and texture.

Early faith-based Nigerian films relied on overt, heavy makeup for demonic possession or spiritual attacks. How did you approach the visual design of spiritual warfare or torment in this film to keep it grounded for a modern audience?

Omotosho: It’s important to know that spiritual warfare doesn’t always have to be represented through something obvious or exaggerated. Today’s audiences are more visually aware, and I wanted the effects to feel grounded enough to believe the character was truly experiencing something. The goal was to make the audience feel the characters’ emotional and spiritual disturbance before understanding what they were looking at. This is why we paid attention to realism, texture, and performance. As a Christian film, there was a responsibility to ensure the visual effects supported the film’s spiritual message. 

In the original and remake of Agbara Nla, spiritual warfare and demonic transformation are central to the story and characters. How did you handle those effects practically, and what tools/techniques were available to you?

Omotosho: A lot of what we did was practical. We worked with prosthetic pieces, blood work, wounds, bruising, skin textures, ageing and character makeup, depending on scene requirements. Continuity mattered because the effects had to remain consistent across different scenes and shooting days. For SFX, creating effects is one part of the job, as there are other technical concerns. Sometimes the technique is elaborate, and the best solutions are subtle. The tools available to us were the materials and techniques we could practically execute within the production, and a lot of the work came down to creativity, preparation, and problem-solving. 

There’s often the need to frighten audiences with the looks of the occultic or “dark” characters. How much of the looks were collaborative with the directors’ vision for elevating the film’s visual language versus your own instincts on what reads as authentically frightening or sacred?

Omotosho: It was definitely collaborative. As an artist, you have instincts about what should look frightening, believable, or visually interesting. But when working on a film, especially one with such a strong spiritual theme, your idea cannot exist separately from the story. The director has the larger picture, the tone, the character’s journey, what the audience should feel, and how the scene fits into the entire film. My job was to take that vision and translate it into something physical that could exist on the actor. At the same time, with my SFX knowledge, we created a visual language that served the film. With the darker characters, I was conscious that frightening doesn’t necessarily mean making someone grotesque. Sometimes fright exists in something that feels almost normal, but slightly wrong. 

In the 1993 Agbara Nla, there are visual references of what a witch/occult character looks like. When creating characters’ look, how attentive were you to these earlier references and were you keen about creating something distinct for a contemporary audience?

Omotosho: Yes, I was very conscious of the original. When you work on a popular remake, you can’t completely ignore what came before it. But I also didn’t want us to simply reproduce the original. We looked at the original to understand what they did and find ways to communicate that to a contemporary audience. With the original, they intentionally communicated something spiritual to an audience. With the remake, we wanted to preserve that spirit while bringing the visual language forward. That became one of the challenges for us. There were moments where what was technically possible or practical within the production didn’t necessarily meet what I would ideally want to put on screen. My responsibility was still to make the character work within the world of the film. These challenges actually reinforced something for me: filmmaking is collaborative. You don’t always get everything exactly the way you imagined it in your head. You have to problem-solve, adapt, and still find a way to serve the story.

Your expertise is central to building the world inhabited by the characters of the film. First, how did you approach building that world? What insight did you draw from the original, conversations with the directors and cinematographer, and your independent experience?

Kadiri: I am a story based designer. Stories are made up of characters so designing for characters is designing for the story. For this film, I wanted to design spaces that communicated faith and the power of God that indwells his kids. The focus was on the people who embodied God’s power rather than the flashiness of the material world. For the world of darkness, we exaggerated the materiality of the characters and toned down the material worlds of the characters representing light. My approach also stemmed from the director’s vision and how the Director of Photography wanted the story told. After reading the director’s treatment and having multiple conversations with the director and DoP, it became clear that the Director wanted people who see the film to trust in God’s power to save in the face of daunting oppositions from the devil’s camp. To make this film, the DoP needed open spaces and high ceilings and using my artistic and technical skill, I weaved these into the design seamlessly. 

In creating the world, what was important to you as an artist who’s also a Christian, I presume? What was the overarching color palette agreed upon for the environments, and how did you use paint, furniture, and practical lighting to reinforce the film’s moral and spiritual themes?

Kadiri: First, that God was glorified and everyone who watches the film knows that despite how loud and big the kingdom of darkness is, true power resides in God and it will always prevail. The film’s world is divided into three: Muwonleru, Lagos/Ibadan, and the metaphysical world. Across the world, we maintained a filmic desaturated look with Muwonleru being the most desaturated. This choice came about because we wanted to emphasise how colorless a life without Christ is and also because Muwonleru has been under the bondage of Ishawuru for too long. The metaphysical world is the most colored. However, we stayed within the colors, set dressing, elements, and lights that best represent the different natural worlds governed by each god.

Objects carry secondary and dual meanings in faith-based films. A chair, tree, cap, and other props could mean various things. Interestingly, faith-based audiences often read symbolism the moment they see it — a chair facing a certain way, a tree at the center of a compound — before a single line of dialogue explains anything. Did that audience literacy change how boldly or how subtly you could plant meaning in an object?

Kadiri: Yes, we had a lot of props and objects representing different things. From Isawuru’s shrine to Arometa’s cave and Ayamatanga’s coven, we had objects that had secondary meanings, and hopefully, our audience are able to see and resonate with them when they watch.

Joy Kadiri, Temi Ami-Williams, and Abisoye Omotosho.

Lastly, how closely did the three of you collaborate during pre-production to ensure that a character’s costume didn’t clash with the living room walls, or that the makeup texture worked perfectly with the practical lighting on set? 

Ami-Williams: We did more than collaborate during pre-production; we aligned our costume, makeup, and art-direction mood boards to establish a cohesive visual language for both the actors and the extraterrestrial characters, including colour palettes, fabrics, textures, and hairstyles. As with any production, we also encountered unforeseen challenges that required us to adapt quickly. For example, Oluweri’s kinky hair kept catching on her sequined costume, so Abisoye and her team pivoted to an updo. Spirit Hunter also needed horns at the last minute, while Ayamatanga’s headgear meant we had to rethink her original sleek ponytail and bun. Art direction required that same level of attentiveness on set. We constantly assessed the relationship between costumes, makeup, furniture, walls, and lighting, and were prepared to make last-minute adjustments whenever colours or textures competed with the environment. The goal was always to ensure that every department felt visually connected rather than working in isolation.

Kadiri: We did not just collaborate but formed a sisterhood. During pre-production, we went through our moodboards and aligned on colors, styles, and overall look and feel. This can be seen when watching the film. During principal photography, we often talked about colours right before making final decisions on costumes, props, or furniture. It was an open conversation to ensure that we presented a single unified look and feel across all visual representations of the story.

Omotosho: As they said, it moved from collaboration to sisterhood. There was no point where I felt like makeup was just doing makeup, costume was just doing costume, and art direction was just doing art direction. We were constantly influencing each other. Costume choices could completely change how I approached the makeup. Ditto for art direction. The space, How big was the room? How tight was the space? How close was the camera going to be?, itself informed my work. I remember one particular night with the Ologodudu demon look. We had an idea for what we wanted to create, but it wasn’t working. So we started thinking, okay, what else can we use?  After conversing with Temi, we found a solution. That moment really represents what the relationship between the departments was like. There was no “that’s not my department.” It wasn’t just collaboration but sisterhood formed through work. We understood each other’s creative language, trusted each other, and knew that none of our departments could really stand alone. And I think that was one of the most beautiful things about working on Agbara Nla, we weren’t just trying to make our individual departments look good. We were trying to make the world of the film work together. We built the visual world together.