Yomi Adejumo’s “Thicker Than Water” Has A Feeble Plot

Yomi E. Adejumo’s Thicker Than Water is an all-too familiar story. The audience recognizes the bond between Ese (Ada Obi), a journalist and Onome (Bimbo Ademoye), her older sister who has passed away in unclear circumstances. The sisters were super-glue close until Onome left home for personal reasons. A journalist, Ese reluctantly investigates Onome’s death until a chanced discovery of her journal. The journal provides useful details about her sister’s romantic involvement with Ola (Damilola Ogunsi) and her findings on an ongoing ritual act in Ile Agbadami. Kayode (Taye Arimoro), a conveniently helpful resident of Ile Agbadami provides Ese with logical and practical answers to her questions. There is also Ese’s, a sole individual, conflict against a conspiring society and system.

As a small town film, Thicker Than Water tells rather than shows audiences the tight-knit nature of the Ile Agbadami’s residents and how interconnected their economical, social and cultural lives are.  A well written and directed film allows for audiences intimacy with characters and settings. But, in Thicker Than Water, the film isn’t able to explore or show these tight-knit relationships. 

Films like Ema Edosio-Deelen’s Kasala! and The Agbajowo Collective’s The Legend of the Vagabond Queen of Lagos highlight interpersonal relationships and communal reliance beyond surface level, with successful attempts to show how the community influences the social, cultural identity and psychology of its residents. In Thicker Than Water, however, the script spoonfeeds its audience with non contextual cultural activities and events that supposedly bind the community together. The film’s overt interest in Ese’s quest for justice and answers makes it impossible to understand the film’s spiritual identity which is anchored on Ola’s character. This, in turn, makes Ola’s participation in  secret occultic activities difficult to understand. And, for the film’s narrative, this is an important clarification.

Written by Yemi Nexus Adeyemi with additional writing support provided by the director, the film is littered with unforgivable plot inconsistencies. Onome’s journal describes Ola as a loving and unscheming partner until Onome gets pregnant. However, what prompts Ola’s change and sudden disinterest in having a baby isn’t stated. The script wants the audience to suddenly believe in Ola’s involvement in a cult but provides no foreshadowing or narrative elements that make this plausible. This  is a convenient choice for the writer. There is also no explanation for how, before meeting Ese, Ola is convinced of her ability to accommodate his deity. Neither is there any resolution for  the dead bodies and missing people in Ile Agbadami. The film throws unanswered questions and unresolved issues at itself and the audiences, making for a passive watch. 

The element of a small-town film dictates using a small, isolated community as a central character to shape the plot, tone and characters’ personalities and choices. The setting isn’t a mere backdrop but an active, influential element that dictates the narrative choices. Adejumo’s Thicker Than Water exploits few of these elements. Residents are isolated from the city, rely on boats for transportation, curate leisure and entertainment activities and provide security for themselves. But, the film makes it impossible for its audiences to be familiar with Ile Agbadami. Residents are passersby who hold no immediate value to the film. Tiny(Toyosi Oguntolu), the only resident which the script tries placing importance on, is also redundant. Tiny’s character should have provided an opportunity to explore the community’s spiritual and cultural identity but the community’s identity which should have shaped the narrative becomes an afterthought. By ostracizing the community members from the story, Ese isn’t prompted, despite her journalist’s instincts, to ask Ile Agbadami’s residents questions about her dead sister and the missing people posters.

Steven Spielberg’s Jaws and Andy Muschietti’s It are foreign small-town films whose narrative exploits another element of small-town films. In these small-town films, a “dark secret” or “evil” lurks beneath the surface and the evil latches itself onto the community’s cultural, geographical and spiritual elements. The dark secret in Spielberg’s Jaws, is a terrifying shark that attacks residents and in Muschietti’s It, it’s a shape-shifting clown. In both films, residents are aware of the evil parading their community even when they occasionally dismiss it. Jaws’ evil force — the shark, lives in the water. The shape-shifting evil in It resides in the community’s abandoned spots, mostly the drainage. In Adejumo’s film, the evil picks a spiritual identity. Thus, the film will have us believe that the community is killing its young citizens. But, even when the credit list starts rolling, Ile Agbadami’s residents’ knowledge or ignorance about this ritual killing isn’t clear. There are scanty posters of missing people but the community members  and the film’s script is incapable of connecting it to an ongoing ritual act. The film’s decision to isolate the community residents affects its storytelling. 

The film’s inability to provide an intimate exploration of its characters’ psychology and emotional reality makes for a passive watch. On the surface, it’s an enjoyable film but when one starts peeling  a tiny plot crack, it reveals a large orifice.