A long weekend in Los Angeles forces two brothers to unpack generational trauma and question the validity of their existence as second-generation immigrants in multicultural America.

It’s the 2020s, and Afrobeats has become mainstream in modern American pop culture; it’s no longer strange to hear Wizkid’s “Ojuelegba” or Burna Boy’s “Anybody” at a regular nightclub in San Diego. Beyond that, Ghana is awash with tourists in December and restaurants in Chicago wade into the jollof wars. It’s cool now to identify as African … or is it?

This question, among others, is what Omar S. Kamara sets out to answer in his debut feature film African Giants. For his mission, the Sierra Leonean-American filmmaker (whose short film Mass Ave grabbed the attention of HBO and was nominated for the Grand Prix at the Clement-Ferrand International Film Festival) enlists a small cast that includes Dillon Daniel Mutyaba, Omete Anassi, Tanyell Waivers and Josh Lopez.

When law student Sheku (Anassi) takes a trip from Georgetown to visit his elder brother Alhaji (Mutyaba), an actor looking for his big break in Los Angeles, emotions surge as catch-up conversations lead both men – sons of Sierra Leonean immigrants – to question the strength of their respective dreams and evaluate the depths of their bond.

Sheku, haunted by colourism suffered in the past, is sceptical about how “Africa is the new cool”, and secretly nurses an intention to drop out of law school. Alhaji is resentful of his father who disapproves of his desire to pursue acting, and resorts to sleeping pills as the fear of failure drives him to anxiety. Beneath self-affirmations and fist bumps, they can both feel the shadow of their father looming over them, and each has a crucial decision to make. 

With a runtime of 106 minutes, African Giants makes quite the effort to tackle several issues germane to modern sociocultural discourse, including the tensions between Africans and Black Americans, the generational divide in immigrant families, mental health, and black masculinity. There is also a well-handled exploration of interfamilial conflict.

Large portions of the film are shot in one location, save for the restaurant scene with Alhaji’s American girlfriend Cori (Waivers) and the basketball court scene, both of which subtly illustrate the simmering conflict between these brothers who each have things to hide. Mboni Maumba’s production design helps for a more authentic feel, but it is the cinematography of Jonas Fischer (amidst close-up and medium shots that capture the switch in each character’s demeanour) and the music edits of Justin Schornstein that draw out the film’s strong emotional core. Kamara also deploys a voiceover technique through which the two leads provide a window into their individual perspectives on cultural heritage, identity and (ultimately) brotherhood.

The performances of Mutyaba and Anassi are not necessarily flawless as they struggle with their delivery in several scenes until the movie’s final third, but what they lack in experience, they make up for with heart. A better script editor could have shaped the dialogue to be more fluid and less artificial, however, the plot is captivating enough to power through a few patchy sequences. 

As far as the story arc goes, African Giants bears a deceptive title; this is nothing like the grass-to-grace story of Giannis Antetokounmpo (whom Alhaji and Sheku are fans of), nor is it a narrative garbed with the braggadocio of Burna Boy’s Grammy-nominated album of the same name. It is an assured debut for Kamara nonetheless, and for an independent feature, it is rendered fairly well.

African Giants won the Audience Award for Best Feature at the 2024 Slamdance Film Festival, and was nominated for Best Independent Feature at the Cleveland Film Festival. It has also been selected for the Atlanta Film Festival, New African Film Festival, and Phoenix Film Festival.

One of Nollywood’s most successful filmmakers in recent years deploys an effective combination of brand goodwill, aggressive marketing and a fairly cohesive screenplay to break national box office records.

An Ambitious Plot

When she gets pregnant out of wedlock, Jedidah Judah is disowned by her conservative parents, forced to drop out of school, and flung into the streets. Her attempts at finding love (or companionship, at least) only result in serial misadventures, and she ends up being a mother to five sons, each by men in different ethnic groups.

Despondency sets the tone for this crime dramedy set in a fictional town that passes for downtown Lagos. Co-directed by Funke Akindele (Omo Ghetto, Battle on Buka Street) and Adeoluwa Owu (The Griot), the film’s cast includes Jide Kene Achufusi (Brotherhood), Timini Egbuson (Superstar, Breaded Life), Uzor Arukwe (Prophetess, Sugar Rush), Uzee Usman (Fantastic Numbers), Olumide Oworu (The Black Book), Genoveva Umeh (Blood Sisters, Breath of Life), Nse Ikpe Etim (Shanty Town, Mr & Mrs) and Tobi Makinde (Battle on Buka Street).

Jedidah commands respect in her squalid community as a philanthropic entrepreneur, and dotes on her five sons amid their frailties: Emeka is a sales rep weary from the financial responsibilities of being a first-born son, Adamu can only find a security gig, Pere has keen eyes for other people’s property, Shina is a punch-drunk street urchin, and Ejiro (the last son) is an artsy but immature man caught up in young romance.

The Judahs have their stormy existence further upended when Jedidah’s kidneys cave in to alcoholism (an addiction which sprung from her depression), and the boys find themselves at a crossroads. Unable to raise funds for their mother’s urgent kidney transplant, these brothers, not always seeing eye to eye, decide to pull off a high-stakes burglary.

A Refreshing Screenplay, At Least By Nollywood’s Standards

Systemic misogyny, familial bonds, toxic work culture, love, family dysfunction and sacrifice are the overarching themes in this movie which is doused in typical Akindele-esque humour, but succeeds in steering clear of the path to ridiculousness: there is way less slapstick and none of the garishness of her previous features. With Barnabas Emordi’s elegant cinematography and a production design that manages to get the basics right, A Tribe Called Judah makes for a visual experience that is, at least three-quarters of the time, aesthetically pleasing.

Compared to her previous efforts as lead actor, Akindele hands in a more measured performance, and while her diction is still flavoured by “Jenifa-speak” (leaning into the titular semi-literate character from her uber-successful TV franchise), she avoids the vociferousness that sometimes dilutes the quality of her work: her previous effort, Battle on Buka Street, was accused of having “several scenes and a few subplots that felt redundant.”

Egbuson flourishes in his role as the thieving but adorable Pere, while Arukwe and Ikpe-Etim bounce off each other well enough to provide comic value and at the same time set up a catalyst for the moral greyness on which the film is anchored. The standout performer, however, is Makinde, who immerses himself in the role of the loyal albeit troubled Shina, eliciting laughter with every one-liner as seen in his exchanges with members of his gang. Oworu and Umeh do not necessarily pull off the most convincing ghetto couple – they hardly pass for poor young adults – but their dynamic is a tad lovely to watch; there is a childlike cuteness to it.

Credit should go to Collins Okoh and Akinlabi Ishola, whose joint effort created the movie’s screenplay. Their ability to work out adequately fleshed-out backstories for some of the lead characters, without incessant reliance on flashbacks, makes a huge difference. The infusion of crisp dialogue and great comedic timing helps sustain high levels of hilarity for long stretches of the movie’s 134-minute runtime.

Falling Short In The Tiny Details

But the humour in this film is also its undoing. There is such a thing as laughing too much, especially when a film is still expected to harbour certain dramatic elements. American film critic Rafael Abreu, in his essay “Dramedy Explained – A Study of the Comedy Drama Genre” writes that “the ratio between drama and comedy can vary, but most of the time there is an equal measure of both, with neither side dominating.” 

Abreu adds that “establishing the topic of your comedy-drama is important, but you need to make sure your characters can carry that weight.”

The transition from funny to poignant is botched more than once, and while enough motivation is established to keep rooting for the characters, the actors fail to inject the volume of pathos required to draw out empathy from the audience when it’s due: surely, the tragic death of a loved one should evoke more emotive reactions than what is on display. A better score to back up the dramatic sequences could have helped to halve the emotional deficit, but this dramedy falls short in this regard.

A Tribe Called Judah is also guilty on other counts, as far as cinematic sins go. The film’s second act, where the bulk of the conflict lies, is fraught with sequences that fail to pass the tests for plausibility: adrenaline is not enough for a band of amateur thieves to easily fend off professional robbers in fisticuffs and a gunfight, especially in a sequence that attempts to borrow elements from Hollywood heist flicks like Steven Soderbergh’s Ocean’s Eleven and Guy Ritchie’s Snatch. The visual effects team looks to have dropped the ball in a few scenes, and the hasty execution of the denouement almost ruins what is an otherwise delightful viewing: the third act has been the bane of many a Nigerian blockbuster, but this one just manages to limp above the finish line to a satisfactory climax.

Michael Aromolaran, editor at The Culture Custodian, acknowledges that A Tribe Called Judah, in aiming to provide a riveting narrative, falters in a few respects.

 “It succeeds as a comedy, even as an action flick. But how does it perform as a family drama? Not so well”, he writes. “To raise money, the siblings rob a rumoured criminal’s store. But the robbery goes wrong – loads of gun-fu the brothers hadn’t anticipated – and the boys learn that actions, even well-intentioned ones, have consequences. But do they come by new emotional knowledge about each other, about themselves, about their mother? Not that we see.”

Box Office Figures and Marketing Genius

However, Michael and I both agree that the movie is an entertaining spectacle that thrives on a winning recipe, and with more right than wrong steps, it culminates in a crowd-pleasing effort, as box office numbers have shown: this month, it became the first Nollywood film to make 1 billion naira at the box office, making it the highest-grossing Nigerian film ever. It is also the first Nollywood movie to have consecutive weekly admissions of over 100,000.

 In his words, “Akindele can be proud of herself. She’s directed a film that’s well-made generally, while providing a formula for box office success of the billion-naira variety: messy family drama, mixed with genuine humour and some flying bullets. A Tribe Called Judah is genuinely funny, and as far as narratives go, it is almost blameless.”

It is important to consider Akindele’s box office triumph in context. The average weekly cinema attendance for Nollywood films in 2023 was recorded at 19,733, compared to 35,590 in 2020 and 30,895 in 2021. Also, there have been marginal increments in the average price of cinema tickets: across screeners in Nigeria’s city centres, tickets go for an average of N7,000, compared to N3,700 in 2020, according to an industry report curated by film publication IN Nollywood. This is not unconnected to the hyperinflation that has plagued the Nigerian economy. To put things in perspective, Omo Ghetto: The Saga (2020) grossed over N636 million at the box office, but if it had been released in December 2023, it would have grossed at least N1.6 billion judging from the number of admissions it earned (449,901). The hike in prices has forced audiences to rethink their purchasing decisions and move farther from ticketing booths, with the exception of outliers like Akindele’s last three releases.

Anita Eboigbe, media specialist and co-founder of IN Nollywood, argues that despite these variables, A Tribe Called Judah is still a resounding box office success, as it ticked all the right boxes, appealing to a wide demographic and leveraging on an effective marketing campaign.

“She (Akindele) carried her film on her head”, says Eboigbe. “In executing her social media strategy for this film she knew the different target markets, and how best to sell to them. You could see an intentionality in her campaign. Also, this is one of the best stories that she has churned out in a long time, so it was a bonus: people usually go to see her films, so the fact that she crafted a better screenplay made it much easier to recommend this one. Again, when placed side-by-side with the other Nollywood films screening in December, picking hers was a no-brainer.”

A Tribe Called Judah had a lengthy cinematic run in Nigeria, and select venues in the United Kingdom. It also screened at 13 regions in nine African countries: Bessengue and Yaounde in Cameroon, Godope and Mide in Togo, Idrissa Quedraogo and Yennega in Burkina Faso; Poto Poto in Congo, Rebero in Rwanda, Teranga in Senegal; Tombolia in Guinea, Cotonou in Benin Republic and Mandijozangue in Gabon. It will be available on a streaming service later in the year.

In a year when Beyoncé embarked on a record-breaking world tour …

Britain crowned its first new monarch in 70 years and Rihanna emerged from her pseudo-retirement to headline the Super Bowl, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse ranked as the most highly-anticipated event of the year and it wasn’t even close.

It would be easy to point the fingers of blame for these lofty expectations at the Sony marketing machine, but in actual fact, the blame lies at Spidey’s own doorstep. 2018’s Into the Spider-Verse was a genre bending, world-colliding game changer that has come to redefine animation as we know it. Across the Spider-Verse doubles down on the same visual flair and bets big on the irresistible charm of its leading man Miles Morales (Shameik Moore), and oh what a pay off.

It’s been a year since our favourite web-slinger (sorry Tom Holland) took on the mantle of becoming New York’s sole saviour. How’s he handling the pressure, you ask? To be honest, quite well. Prime time TV hosting gigs, legions of adoring fans and of course, the obligatory regrettable brand endorsement – think Kim Kardashian’s campaign for Charmin toilet paper. But what value does being there for the world hold when you can’t be there for the ones you love the most? Confronting this strenuous reality has proved to be our protagonist’s most challenging foe; often rearing its ugly head to scupper Miles’ attempts to build an honest relationship with his loving parents.

Even across a multiverse of endless spider-people, being Spider-Man is a lonely existence. It just so happens that Gwen Stacey (Hailee Steinfeld) AKA Spider-Gwen – the only person he can truly relate to – lives in another dimension and she doesn’t have the answers either. Not only is she distant from her father, he’s actively in pursuit of her for the alleged murder of her best friend. Naturally, this leaves the young crime fighter with no choice but to run away from home and join a collective of inter-dimensional spider-people. Gwen’s Earth-65 makes for one of the film’s most compelling artistic highlights, with the colour palette of each frame ebbing and flowing at will to reflect her crumbling emotional state. it’s the immersive water paint experience that you never knew you needed but won’t forget.

The two kindred spirits are brought together once more when Gwen sets aside a day to go web-slinging through the bustling streets of Brooklyn. Their endearing will-they-won’t-they love story is easy to root for, even though Gwen’s multi-versal exploits have left her convinced that any attempts at romance would be destined for failure. This willingness (or lack thereof) to accept tragedy as an inevitable part of every Spider-person’s journey forms the intriguing base of the film’s core tension (undoubtedly taking its cue from director Kemp Powers’ work on Disney Pixar’s Soul).

While the likes of Venom, Kingpin and Green Goblin have been etched into Spider-Man villainy lore, The Spot (Jason Schwartzman) makes for a peculiar choice of adversary. Upon first meeting, he’s clumsy, insecure and offers about as much menace as a paper airplane in the rain, but quickly escalates to an existential threat capable of tearing apart the whole multiverse. Whereas Marvel has seemingly used the multiverse as a convenient plot device to reset the status quo and protect its more lucrative superheroes, the writing trio of Phil Lord, Christopher Miller and Dave Callaham refreshingly use the same premise to up the stakes and pull infinite worlds into a web of total annihilation.

Late creator Stan Lee’s wish that ‘any kid could imagine they’re Spider-Man’ is realised more so than ever before. We have Daniel Kaluuya’s comically woke Spider-Punk, Issa Rae’s badass pregnant Spider-Woman variant Jessica Drew and a perfectly chiselled Indian Spider-Man (Karan Soni), each providing their own brand of whitty one-liners (including a hilarious observation about the West’s consumption of ‘Chai Tea’). With that being said, composer Daniel Pemberton’s score is every bit as impactful as any of the film’s many memorable characters. Music isn’t only complimentary to the film’s narrative, it dictates it; effortlessly tapping into everything from smooth 90s Hip Hop to abrasive electronic synths to bring each world to life.

Unapologetically heavy-handed with its stylistic approach, Across the Spider-Verse is a beautifully crafted love letter to every era of Spider-Man’s meaningful history. But for all of its sublime visual acrobatics, it’s the emotional authenticity of its characters and sincerity of its storytelling that will keep us all hanging off a cliff with Spidey until his return for 2024’s Beyond the Spider-Verse.

Spider Man: Across The Spider-Verse is in cinemas now!

In the long awaited sequel to 2019’s surprise success, we rejoin Billy Batson and his adopted family as they struggle to fill the roles of the everyday superhero.

The world is already protected by the likes of Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman, leaving Shazam:Fury of the Gods to tackle the question: where does this mismatched family of six fit in?

Zachary Levi reprises his role as Shazam, the super-powered adult alter ego of Billy Batson, and does an excellent job of playing into the humorous aspects of a child burdened with powers in the body of an adult. Just as he did in the first film, Levi plays a convincing teenage boy, with erratic and often disastrous decision making, and painfully accurate awkwardness. This is nothing new for Levi as his portrayal of Billy was one of the defining aspects of the first film.

In Fury of the Gods however, I found myself taken out of the story by some of Levi’s acting choices. Despite an overall good performance, Asher Angel, who plays Billy in his teenage form, seemed to be playing a different character at times. Because Levi appeared eager to recreate the humour and mannerisms that had everyone singing his praises in the first film, he forgot that in both the movie and real world, four years have passed and Billy is no longer 14 years old. Angel’s Billy looks and acts older than Levi’s version and while not detrimental to the film it stood out when compared to the other super-powered family members (who we spent far less time getting to know as characters).

Djimon Hounsou returned as ‘TheWizard’, and unlike the first film, he makes a real impact on the plot and enjoyability of the film. A begrudging help to Billy and his family, Hounsou plays the part of a powerful wizard who assumed his days of heroism and burdensome obligation were behind him after imbuing Billy with his god-like powers. Hounsou is a delightful injection of dry humour in an already funny film and perhaps opens the door for a new foray into comedy for an actor more known for serious roles.

In terms of plot, the film follows the usual end-of-the-world template that has serviced comic book movies for the last decade. The “Bad Guys” in this adaptation come in the form of Rachel Zegler, who jumped onto the scene in 2021 with Spielberg’s West Side Story, Helen Mirren (which was a shock to me too) and Lucy Lui. The trio make up The Daughters of Atlas, a kind of corrupt opposite to the goodness found in Billy’s family unit. Their motivations are somewhat trivial, but are saved by adequate performances from the very well-known and loved faces.

Fury of the Gods does well to not make the characters morals so cut and dry on both sides and had some relatable family dynamics – however skewed. Despite my disappointment with the predictable worldwide destruction narrative, I was pleasantly surprised by how grounded all the destruction felt. Yes, hundreds of nameless and inconsequential beasts were ransacking Philadelphia for much of the third act, but I still felt sympathetic toward the struggles that Billy and his siblings were fighting. In so many of the last-act large-scale superhero battles, the central conflict is lost behind huge CGI-filled fight sequences with no clear winner or loser. Family remains at the heart of this franchise and it’s all the better for it. It also helps that they quip and crack jokes as they contribute to the destruction of an entire city.

On a technical note, Fury of the Gods is well-paced and directed, using exciting narrative and characters to build upon the stories we were introduced to in 2019. An underwhelming performance at the global and domestic box office opening weekend belies what is a genuinely good and enjoyable film to watch at the cinema.

Shazam!: Fury of the Gods is leagues above the likes of Black Adam and the Latest Ant-Man and The Wasp film. Overall, I would recommend both the Shazam! films as fun and standalone introductions to DC Comics. It is a shame that new creative control at DC and Warner makes it unlikely that we will see these actors take on these characters again in the DC Universe.

Shazam! Fury of the Gods is in UK cinemas now

Unlike most industries, the longevity of a film franchise or boxing career is far from an accurate measure of its quality.

In many cases, it’s the opposite. This usually comes in the form of a recognisable name being propped up by past glories, characterised by a tendency to only re-emerge when a big payday is on the horizon. While this is true of some of the Rocky franchise’s later entries, Michael B. Jordan’s ‘Creed III’ successfully manages to bob and weave it’s way through these pitfalls.

If Ryan Coogler’s original was a deep dive into the past of Apollo Creed’s (Carl Weathers) past, Michael B. Jordan’s directorial debut is an emotionally fulfilling page from the same playbook. Set against the backdrop of Dr Dre’s 1999 classic The Watcher, a richly-textured LA flashback introduces us to a young Adonis “Donny” playing pseudo-corner man for his brother in arms – prodigious boxing talent Damian “Dame” Anderson’ (Jonathan Majors). However, an unfortunate incident sees their journeys splinter off into different paths, with Dame drawing the short end of the stick.

Like a tumbleweed in the wind, Dame unceremoniously reappears, perched against Adonis’ Rolls Royce with a quiet sense of entitlement, a subtle, yet telling indication of what’s to come. After an uncomfortable exchange of pleasantries that can only be likened to meeting your girlfriend’s dad for the first time, the two sit down at a local diner for a catch-up, where it quickly becomes apparent that their differences far outweigh their similarities.

With his rebel spirit now pacified by family and success, retired champion-turned-promoter Adonis is unrecognisable from the loner audiences were introduced to in the franchise’s first instalment. Testament to Jordan’s directorial eye, the world around Adonis has never looked so warm or fleshed-out. This craftsmanship regularly offers up the film’s most heartfelt moments in the shape of Adonis’ marriage with Bianca (Tessa Thompson) and the normalised use of sign language to parent their daughter Amara (Mila Davis-Kent). Contrastingly, the intervening years have not been so kind to Dame. The solitude of life behind bars have left him feral and with nothing to call his own, except a burning desire to become the heavyweight champion – a goal that Adonis feels obliged to help him reach.

Jonathan Majors is a star turn as the musclebound manifestation of survivor’s guilt, stealing scenes at will with irrestable magnetism whilst looking every bit as imperious as Mike Tyson in ‘88. Despite being the first Rocky-less Rocky film, it manages to summon the same palpable tension (perhaps drawn out for too long), before the eventual showdown between Adonis and Dame.

In the past it has been easy to root against Adonis’ adversaries, but Creed III does an excellent job of making the decision less clear cut. Far from a redemption story, Dame’s is a brutal course correction. As he makes clear early on, he’s ‘not looking for a handout’, he wants the life that Adonis stole from him. And who can blame him?

After nearly 50 years – and a tale of the tape consisting of fights against Mr T and Hulk Hogan – there aren’t many punches left that the Rocky-franchise hasn’t thrown yet. Refreshingly, Jordan’s gutsy spin-off manages to string together an impressive anime-infused combination of heart and revitalised ring action, proving this fighter’s still got more rounds in him yet.

Creed III is in cinemas Friday 3rd March

Empire of Light is billed as one of the shining lights (excuse the pun) of London Film Festival …

Starring big hitters Olivia Colman (The Favourite), Micheal Ward (Blue Story) and Colin Firth (Supernova). Set in the English seaside town of Margate, it purported to be “a powerful and poignant story about human connection and the magic of cinema, from Academy Award-winning director Sam Mendes”. What it actually is, is a film full of half-baked lazy storylines in this ode to a supposedly golden age of cinema from Academy Award-winning director Sam Mendes (1917, Skyfall). 

Set in 1980-1981, during the time of Margaret Thatcher, high unemployment, a recession and spiralling racism (sounds familiar …) the film starts out following our protagonist Hilary (Olivia Colman) who is the general manager of the Empire Cinema which sits on the seafront. It turns out she has had some mental health issues, is newly released from hospital and is getting on with life, whilst completely numbed by the Lithium she is taking for her schizophrenia. Hilary is having a pretty grimy affair with her manager at the cinema Mr Eliis (Colin Firth), who is clearly taking advantage of a vulnerable employee whilst getting his rocks off, until Stephen (Micheal Ward) comes along. Young, exciting and Black, Stephen literally breathes life into Hilary. What ensues, without too many spoilers, is a woman literally coming undone.

Whilst this is all happening, we don’t learn much about Stephen at all. What we do find out is disappointingly stereotypical. Which is exactly what happens when you have the white gaze developing Black characters without consultation?; Windrush – check, absent father – check, sexualisation of the Black man – check, plagued by racism – check.

Stephen and Hilary’s relationship develops, with almost devastating consequences, until both characters reach some kind of redemption. The underdeveloped storyline of Stephen however, doesn’t take away from what is a stellar performance by Ward, delivered with real heart and power. Colman also gives a standout performance as Hilary, who mirrors the sometimes dark and old-fashioned cinema she presides over, with its mothballed two upper screens, now covered in years of dust and ruled by pigeons.

It’s a real shame that Ward is wasted in this piece which is clearly a vehicle for Colman. The development of the relationship between Hilary and Stephen felt inauthentic. A young Black man arrives at his new job and the first person he desires is a dowdy middle-aged White woman with whom he has nothing in common. Why? How? And the fact that Stephen’s journey had to be told with racism at the heart felt unnecessary and forced. I long for the day when Black characters are just characters, not caricatures and racism isn’t the underpinning of our stories.

Empire of Light is absolutely Mendes’ love letter to a golden age of cinema visually. There are some truly beautiful shots of the Empire Cinema, both inside and out. With some great insight into the projectionist’s room and the almost ritualistic loading of the camera reels. Margate also looks glorious, but unfortunately, not glorious enough to save this film.

A few pockets of light in this film from Mendes but certainly not an empire.

Empire Of Light in cinemas Friday 13th January 2023

African folklore and mythology play an integral part in the filmmaker Nikyatu Jusu’s supernatural thriller Nanny.

Walking into the press and industry screening of Nanny, I had absolutely no expectations of the film. From watching the trailer I knew that this would be an elevated horror centred on an immigrant from the continent working for an upper-class white family who has little regard for her humanity, and the horrors she faces while working for them; though not completely on the ball, I wasn’t too far off.

The film centres on Aisha (Anna Diop) an educated Senegalese immigrant living in America who takes on a minimal job as a nanny for an upper-class dysfunctional white family to fund the travel of her 6-year-old son Lamine’s flight to America but all does not go as planned.

In introducing audiences to Aisha, Nikyatu Jusu invites us into the world and experiences of the immigrant nanny: holding onto their culture in a foreign land by gathering together outside of work at parties full of music, food and laughter, meeting each other at the local playground to vent their frustrations disguised in humour, bonding with one another at the hairdressers, and caring for the children they look after through sharing stories, and in this case the love of jollof rice, to the dismay of the child’s mother who is almost revolted that her child is eating “food too spicy for her tummy”.

Aisha must also deal with the fact that she is not being paid what she is due, keeping her from being able to bring her son to America when she planned to. She is faced with the micro-aggressions of her boss Amy (Michelle Monaghan) who constantly excuses her behaviour towards Aisha: not paying her for the hours she is owed; constantly coming home late, expecting Aisha to understand her as a woman trying to make her way in a man’s world. And the unwarranted advances of Amy’s husband – a photojournalist intent on showcasing how liberal and proactive he is in the plights of those from the third world and war-torn countries.

In the midst of all of this, there is a malevolent presence that haunts Aisha in both her dreams and her real-life almost to the point of harming herself and others. She has vivid nightmares of being submerged in water unable to breathe as her bed sheets trap her beneath them, this follows her in her wakefulness experiencing a supernatural presence wherever water seems to be running. There are memorable scenes one where the shower runs whilst she is playing hide and seek; in the bathroom after taking a shower she sees her reflection take on a life of its own which made the audience gasp in fright.

The use of immersion and submersion into water throughout the piece comes to a culmination at the end of the film in two poignant scenes when we see Aisha almost drown but is saved by Mami Wata which seems to symbolise a re-emergence and new life both within and outside her body; and when we see Aisha in a fetal position in the bath surrounded by water.

Nikyatu Jusu draws inspiration from the classic African mythological gods Anansi (the spider God that represents trickery) using him as almost a portal of communication between Aisha’s son Lamine and the little girl she looks after. She also calls on Mami Wata the mythical mermaid, (who in this instance acts as a warning that unfortunate events have taken place but is also indicative of renewal) interweaving them into the story as elements to not only be afraid of but to take heed in the messages they send to you.

Diop is brilliant as Aisha, showing versatility in how she conveys emotion at different points throughout the film. She’s a devoted mother she shows how soft she can be in the moments we see her interacting with her young charge, or gazing at the phone screen watching recordings of her son, she expresses an almost silent determination, resilience and strength when speaking to her employers and we see how soft, flirtatious and sensual side in the relationship she shares with her boyfriend Malik (Sinqua Walls).

I also enjoyed the fact that the exploitation and abuse that domestic workers face was not the premise of this story. Yes, we see the advantage that is taken of these women in moments where your blood boils like when Aisha’s employers delights that “colonial red, all reds look good on you” which screams of racial undertones, but we have enough trauma porn to last us a lifetime.

Nanny is a great introduction to African folk history but stops short of developing the storyline, instead concentrating on moments that could have been displayed in a much shorter capacity. There’s a long drawn-out “date night” between Malik and Aisha which seemed to channel a Queen and Slim like vibe that had not much to do with the premise of the film. Yes, they were falling for each other but we did not need to see those moments played out as delicately as they were – giving the feeling of two separate films merged into one.

The film feels rushed in the last quarter where we find out a devastating truth, the reason for the supernatural presence and the promise of new life all role into one. The suspense we feel early on dwindles as each storyline blends unfinished into one another creating a somewhat confusing ending.

Nanny has all the elements of an auspicious thriller but is overdeveloped in some areas whilst underdeveloped in others, but what keeps you intrigued are the jumpy moments, depth of feeling, empathy and warmth that Diop carries throughout.

I am a huge fan of many styles of pop music from the African continent but I have to admit that I had never heard of Bobi Wine prior to this documentary …

Despite my love of dissecting various types of film and connecting with friends to assess the deeper meanings and the filmmaker’s intentions, there is one genre where I believe such observations to be almost immaterial and this is in viewing the observational documentary. This type of film is not as frivolous as art tends to be, particularly when it addresses issues of life, death and democracy that currently affect a nation and its people, as is the case here. This is something far more important. It is essentially an extended news feature and is made for our information, not to marvel or criticise the use of colour, cinematography, etc. as I would normally do proceeding a night at the movies. It seems that the filmmakers would have made this at some considerable risk to themselves.

Directed by Moses Bwayo and Christopher Sharp, Bobi Wine takes us along for the tumultuous journey of the titular Ugandan opposition leader and his National Unity Platform (NUP) party in Kampala, as he campaigns for change in the country and attempts to depose tyrannical president Museveni.

I am a huge fan of many styles of pop music from the African continent but I have to admit that I had never heard of Bobi Wine prior to this documentary. A statement at the start of the film declares him one of Africa’s most successful pop stars. We learn as the film proceeds that Robert Kyagulanyi Ssentamu, to use his real name, is also an actor and most apt here, an activist.

Continuing the theme of huge holes in my knowledge, ashamedly, I was pretty ignorant about the history of Uganda, its current plight and recent political struggles. Unfortunately, stories like that of President Yoweri Museveni are all too common on the continent, having been in power since 1986 and appearing not to want to part with the position, even changing the constitution during the course of the filming so that he could stand for election past his 80th year.

My immediate thought when I heard that he was a pop star running for president was, what qualifies him? One begs the question, is this the power of celebrity gone too far or is he someone that actually wants to impart real change? It reminded me of Wyclef Jean filing himself as a candidate for the presidency, ultimately unsuccessfully, in Haiti in 2010 and more recently, friend to Fox News and White Lives Matter campaigner, Kanye West in 2020. As I continued my internal conversation, I pondered the other side of the argument and thought to myself, this rough around the edges, essentially Ugandan mandem, is a refreshingly real politician. When I think of here at home in the UK, someone like this is probably exactly the type of person needed to shake up the establishment and to break up the Eton mess.

Wine’s relationship with his partner, Barbara, who he met at university and her subsequent influence on him seems to be a big part of sending him on this trajectory. He describes himself as “ragamuffin” when she met him and the suggestion is that she may potentially have been the spark that set him off on the journey to becoming the Ghetto President.

Undoubtedly the picture painted of Uganda and its current situation is a depressing state of affairs throughout but some of the most poignant and emotive parts for me were where the focus was on Wine’s children. Seeing his daughter composing a letter to him after he has been detained in a military barracks without any idea when or if he will be set free was very moving. At another point in the film, they have to fly the children to America to stay with an aunt because remaining in Uganda becomes untenable when Wine’s life is repeatedly put at risk by Museveni’s government. I personally would have liked to see more of a focus on this aspect, their life and the impact of all this on his wife and children because that is something that the average person can relate to.

President Museveni is essentially the villain of this story and I would also have liked to learn more about him in this film. He uses the state apparatus, namely the army, the police and the judicial system to bully Wine and his supporters throughout the filming with no hint of remorse. He barely features in the film, save for a few clips from media interviews and there is some allusion to the fact that he started his leadership with noble intentions and gradually became corrupted by the position. Wine himself says in the film that he would have loved to have a face-to-face conversation with Museveni, being that they began from similar backgrounds and with similar aspirations. I feel that an exploration of Museveni’s fall into the dark side could have made for rich and compelling storytelling.

Seeing dead black bodies following military and police raids on the communities and others supporting Wine left me feeling conflicted. In Western media, white bodies under similar circumstances are either blurred out or left unseen and are given a certain level of respect and humanity. Almost the opposite treatment is given to black bodies, particularly when the focus is on places considered “Third World”. Then there is the side of me that says, let us not make this comfortable for the viewer and make it as real and raw as possible as this is what the Ugandans are facing, literally.

It’s not completely doom and gloom and there are moments that we get to see Wine smile when he has the opportunity to focus on things other than politics (at least not directly), such as when he is making music. When we arrive at the time the coronavirus reaches Uganda in March 2020, Bobi comes up with a far better way to say the words symptom (“sim-po-tom”) and quarantine (“kwaran-tyne”) in a new song, which I proceeded to add to my lexicon and will be replacing for the originals from this day forward.

Despite this, Wine looks physically tired by the end of the filming, not least because he has been beaten, arrested, blocked, and his home and offices invaded by the time we are at the closing. His trademark swagger is still there but with maybe less spiritedness, unsurprisingly. He is exhausted, although not defeated.

One of the great benefits of stories like this being featured in high-profile festivals like the London Film Festival is that we catch almost no whiff of them in the mainstream media, so it is an opportunity to bring them to the fore. This has in fact spurred me to look more into the legacy of the country and learn more about the continent and its politics generally. My earlier concerns about his qualification for such a station were a distant memory by the end of the film and I was absolutely rooting for him. Wine clearly loves his country. My concern now is for Wine and his family because, as we have seen so often in history, those who stand up to powerful people sometimes end up as martyrs.

This version of Matilda keeps the essential storyline elements from the book and the film …

I’m a huge Matilda fan. I loved the Roald Dahl book as a child (I’ve read it a few times as an adult too I must admit). Both myself and my daughter love the 1996 film version starring Danny DeVito, Mara Wilson and Pam Ferris. So, you can understand my trepidation when I heard there was a remake – entitled Roald Dahl’s Matilda The Musical. Except, this isn’t a remake. It’s a mash-up of the book, the 1996 film version and the wildly successful West End musical all of the same name. Such an ambitious project could really go one of two ways. Either very, very bad or in this case – very, very good. 

This version of Matilda keeps the essential storyline elements from the book and the film – uncared-for bookworm titular character Matilda grows up with parents who don’t even know she is there. They are too busy focusing on themselves to realise their daughter is a genius who channels her energy into educating herself and – later on – telekinesis. What makes this version different, apart from the characters bursting into song at opportune moments, is the ability to add real elements of the whimsy, for example, by playing out the storyline of Miss Honey, expertly played by Lashana Lynch, portraying her parents as an acrobat and an escape artist. They exist in almost dream-like sequences when Matilda (Alisha Weir), tells their story to her first friend, the librarian Mrs Phelps (Sindhu Vee). Matilda’s parents are also incredibly and beautifully tacky, just like in the 1996 version, this time around played by Andrea Riseborough and Stephen Graham (green hair and all). 

So much of the joy from this film comes from watching Emma Thompson ham it up as the comically evil Ms Trunchbull. She has a habit of stealing the scenes that she is in but rightly so – she fully becomes the Trunchbull, with sometimes chilling accuracy – and by that I mean what we expect a tyrant headmaster to be. There is also a lot of joy from the fun of a kids ensemble, especially for all the big musical numbers. I found myself wondering quite a few times why I wasn’t in the movie. Speaking of big musical numbers – Lashana Lynch’s singing voice is a total revelation that had me in floods of tears in the end. 

The fact that this version of Matilda is the book, film and musical combined means everything is bigger and more exaggerated in the best possible way. The musical numbers are bigger, the stunts are bigger and the development of Miss Honey’s backstory is a genius addition to this familiar story. But there are also smaller moments too which sprinkle magic on this piece. Matilda’s recurring musical theme of writing her own story and not succumbing to bullies, is as touching as it is relevant. The scenes between Matilda and Mrs Phelps, who have their adventures through stories, play to the fantastical whilst preserving their precious relationship.

Whether you’re a Matilda fan or not, this is well worth a watch. A delicate story retold with just the right amount of whimsy and imagination to give it the fresh take that it needs.

Roald Dahl’s Matilda: The Musical is released in UK cinemas 25th November

Leader & vanguard, unrelentingly powerful, scarred and yet flawless in her black femininity…

You would think that “THE” Viola Davis was playing herself in The Woman King.  It is so easy to see why she would happily take on the role of General Nanisca, leader of the Agojie, also known as the Dahomey Amazons. The Agojie were an all-female regiment sworn never to marry or bear children and would fight to the death to defend their Kingdom of Dahomey, in West Africa during the 1800s. I do not think it is a spoiler to name Nanisca “The Woman King” from the jump, she is so commanding, so heavily burdened in her duty to protect her people that she exudes majesty.

Davis blazes, unsurprisingly, in a surprising premise for a performer widely accepted as a premier thespian actor. She is brutally physical, yolked to the point that all shea butter does is showcase how she invested so much of herself into this role, literally. She clearly has put her body on the line to personify a warrior. It would be so easy to have a stand-in, CGI muscles, reaction shots of her face and basic choreography, but no, Davis as a woman, as a performer and as General Nanisca, leads from the front like a locomotive. 

Whilst Viola Davis is the lead, undoubtedly, we actually follow the rise and rise of Thuso Mbeda’s Nawi.  I am tempted to say nothing about her, because you need to experience her performance for yourself.  She has it.  Funny, hot headed, brash, resourceful, we move through her experiences on her journey from discarded daughter to fierce warrior and defender of her people.  I cannot overstate just how natural her performance was, at no point did you feel like she really has a smartwatch and social media account, she made the world real and gave the story flesh as did all of the main cast.  Mbeda however stood tall among titans in her performance, she never felt like she was overwhelmed and never retreated in what was a thunderous performance from beginning to end.  An emerging star.

Lashana Lynch’s Izogie stands out and then some.  Someone come give sis all her flowers. Electrifying and dripping with charisma; and is unbridled in a way that we have not previously seen from her recent notable performances as 007 and Captain Marvel.  Lynch needs to start headlining, like right now.  She is so natural in these roles as the warrior born with an indomitable power that matches her banter, whether it is modern Mi5 or historic warrior. Enemy or film viewer, she will merk (kill) you.

The powerful Sheila Atim has an interesting effect on this feature as Amenza, the heart and soul of the Agojie.  She is conscience and confidant to the General, in a tried and tested “day one bestie” role. Any actor given the role of being the emotional counterbalance to Viola Davis better be one of a particular quality, and Atim provides this. Similarly to Lynch’s underutilisation in Captain Marvel (2019) Atim’s is highlighted by her dynamic range in The Woman King. Atim’s Amenza is maternal and spiritual, a guider who will speak truth to power but packs that pepper. I hope for less supporting roles and more leads for her in the future.

John Boyega deserves his plate of rice for his truly supportive role as King Ghezo.  He is so complimentary to Davis’ Nanisca, with whom he shares most of his scenes.  Boyega plays this one perfectly, having the presence of a King, but the vulnerability of someone who can chat, but not necessarily walk that chat himself.  Immensely funny, he seamlessly flips between adolescent playboy and stoic, visionary leader with a playfulness that will make you look forward to his next scene.

Yes, The Woman King is predictable, sometimes excessively so, but so what?  Hollywood’s staple is churning out some of the most enjoyable historically inaccurate, popcorn fests full of blood, guts and glory from The Last Samurai to Master and Commander.  Full of rousing speeches, glorious deaths, romances between enemies and Oscar winning talent swashbuckling while chewing up the scenes The Woman King sits with some of the best. 

Any viewer trying to poke holes in the historical inaccuracies or the “wokeism” of the film’s premise… you know what? – the film isn’t for you, and that’s ok, not everything will be.  You can be obtuse and ignore the fact that this is a standard action film and a pretty damn well made one as well, with flamboyant entertaining choreography with characters and performances that you can feel; it’s a film that is absolutely re-watchable. 

Hollywood storyline cliches notwithstanding, The iconic director Gina Prince-Bythewood, who gave us Love and Basketball (2000), The Secret Life of Bees (2008) and The Old Guard (2020) did what she came to do. There is a clear focus on showcasing the beauty of African people in dark skinned blackness, communities with farmers, tailors, free and happy people as much as the colonialisation and civil wars.  This is a film of black female solidarity, not fetishism. A celebration of power, love, freedom and the defence of it at all costs. There is no question of femininity being maligned or turned masculine … they are beautifully feminine … all. 

If this film is a seminal moment for the culture it is because the genre is woefully underrepresented for blackness and black women especially.  I do not expect it to have the cultural impact of a film like Black Panther, but it will empower so many black women of all ages to be their most powerful selves and return to this film for its heart, it’s fearlessness and sheer Bad B****ery!

The Woman King is out Now! Rated PG-13