Òlòtūré: The Journey – Promising Start, Disappointing Finish
What begins with promise in "Òlòtūré: The Journey" quickly devolves into a haphazard narrative that leaves viewers wanting more, but not in a good way.
Directed by: Kenneth Gyang
Starring: Sharon Ooja, Omoni Oboli, Beverley Osu, Ikechukwu Onunaku, Stan Nze, Amarachukwu Ono, Bukola Oladipupo, Daniel Etim Effiong, and Patrick Doyle, among others.
“For too long Nigerian films have coddled and pampered audiences. A harsh country has refused to acknowledge its difficulties through its films. No more. Our gifted directors are telling the truth about where we live.”
Oris Aigbokhaevbolo, a well-respected film critic, had the above to say about Òlòtūré after the film debuted globally on Netflix back in 2020.
I begin this piece with that excerpt because it mirrors how I felt back then when the film ended, even before news of a sequel broke. You see, I’ve always been someone who enjoys bold endings as I believe if done right, they better represent how the real world works. Òlòtūré’s ending was brutal yet fitting for the subject matter it addressed. This school of thought is highlighted even further in my own words back in 2020:
“I belong to the school of thought that believes the end is a fitting one. Art is subjective, and the filmmakers have left a blank sheet for everyone to carve out their desired ending; for this, I applaud them.”
I thought the movie was made better by its bold decision to not extract its protagonist from the precarious situation she’d deeply immersed herself in as things progressed. It was an uncommon decision that received some pushback from less liberal members of the audience, but nothing too serious to hurt the goodwill the franchise had quickly garnered.
When a sequel was finally announced, I never could shake off the idea that the best place to pick things up from would be right where the story stopped.
That ended up being the case.
Four years later, Òlòtūré takes on new life in the form of Òlòtūré: The Journey, a three-episode limited series that promised a lot.
If the first film could ever be accused of glossing over the dark side of prostitution, Òlòtūré: The Journey ensures any form of miscommunication that led to that conclusion is discarded. At least that’s how promising it starts. The series’ first episode opens with an air of political intrigue from players in this underworld and the consequences of the decisions that led the characters to that unfateful point at the country border.
The series is split into three episodes with individual run-times that accumulate into one akin to a feature film. The literal splitting into three episodes allows the story to progress in something akin to the typical three-act structure. It also gives more room to deepen previously introduced side characters like Omoni Oboli’s Alero, Ikechukwu Onunaku’s swaggish pimp Chuks, Patrick Doyle’s Sir Phillips, and Daniel Etim-Effiong’s Tony, while leaving enough room to introduce new players to the scene. But it doesn’t handle these graces well enough. It fails the returning characters and shreds new ones like Bucci Franklin’s Silver Blade and Stan Nze’s Ben to pieces, without much of a fighting chance.
Alero's fall-from-grace arc started promisingly. Her story and that of the others tied to it —Tony, Chuks, Sir Phillips, Silver Blade— held the most promise for a good time, but things go to hell almost as soon as the promise is made. Better character motivations would have further elevated this.
The weirdest part about all of this is that Òlòtūré: The Journey knows what it wants to be —a story about a journalist who bit off more than she could handle and now seeks to get restitution in a world that has turned its back on her— but it couldn't find a way to tell the story compellingly. What the team at EbonyLife Studios managed to string together after all these years in development is a haphazard presentation of one of their most prominent IP.
The writing is the chief culprit here, but there are also myriad issues with acting performances, story arc, character choices, plot convenience, and a world whose logic seems too convenient at every turn for the characters whose journeys we’re supposed to be invested in.
Adding to these issues, the series suffers from significant sound design problems. Many ADR sessions were likely done to fix on-set recording issues, which shows in the final product. While ADR is a common industry practice, the execution here is subpar and detracts from the viewing experience.
Like many before it, Òlòtūré: The Journey starts promisingly, then it quickly veers off into incredulous territory. For a three-episode run, there's very little content here to argue against this being a quick cash grab and a silly excuse for a Pan-African project. Even with its promising start, by the time the first episode ends, you start to get a sense that not much has been achieved even though we’ve burned through one-third of the total runtime, but you still hold on to hope and the possibility that something good can still come up out of this. But all that hope quickly gets charred by the second episode. Too many acts of convenience start to pile up and break the illusion you've been forcing yourself to take in. If you were once willing to swallow the pill of Ehi’s puzzling decision to continue her trip to Europe without a compelling reason, by the time Femi (Efa Iwara) comes into play dangling the journalist from Aljazeera card — and she’s so casually deceived — you’re left feeling angry that this character who is steering the journey has learned nothing from her predicament so far and is wasting your time. The camel's back is finally broken, and there’s no coming back from it.
There are way too many illogical things happening for the sake of progressing the plot that forgiveness starts to become a tall order.
As Òlòtūré: The Journey’s non-compelling writing is its biggest issue, its greatest strength is in its dedication to showing forth the horror of the human trafficking scene. This isn’t enough to turn the tides in its favor, but it does score it some much-needed points as it further cements the franchise’s status in the less traveled road of Nigerian movies addressing profound social issues even though the ferocity of this commentary lacks vigor. More strength could have been derived if the series further explored the angle of the politics behind the underworld of prostitution teased in the first episode. This ended up going nowhere, which I strongly believe is the series’ biggest misstep. It could've elevated the story we got.
Sitting through Òlòtūré: The Journey is a breeze, thankfully. Uninteresting characters and lackluster writing threaten to make it laborious, but the shortened runtime works in the audience's favor here. The ending leaves room for even more material to be explored in the future if EbonyLife and Netflix so wish as the titular journey is still ongoing. Thinking about it now, I shudder at the thought of another chance to globetrot with this pack again.
I leave you with this question: do you think it would have been better to leave things where Òlòtūré ended in 2020? The answer seems pretty straightforward to me.
Rinzy’s Rating: 2.5/5
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