The Great Nigerian Films, No. 2: Nigerian Prince Review

 

PG-16, 104 m., 2018. Starring Anthony J. Bell, Chinaza Uche, Tina Mba and Bimbo Manuel. Dir. by Faraday Okoro. Scr. by Andrew Long and Faraday. Prod. by Oscar Hernandez, Bose Oshin and Faraday.

An Indian senior colleague once asked if an artist friend of mine studying in the US was a Nigerian prince, if his dad was a king back home and if he was disguising as a nobody. His real reply was to put a label on his studio door that reads: Nigerian Astronaut Prince.

Now that's a thing.

Around 2016 someone sent an email to about 20,000 people. They said they were an uncle to a Nigerian astronaut who'd been stuck in space for the past 25 years. And they needed $3m to get Tunde Abacha, the astronaut, the first African in space, back home. The people who could help would get from the astronaut’s $15m salary. Typical email scam, a Nigerian prince is a scammer and is also the title of this film.

Nigerian Prince is a story of two cousins, Eze, a Nigerian-American “visiting family,” and Pius, a scammer. Eze, Igbo by ethnicity, soon realizes he hasn't been sent home by his mum to discover his root and not for four weeks. He's probably here for fighting in school and will finish last year of high school here. First timer Anthony J. Bell, eyes a watery red, showcases that realization of being defeated by a parent’s simple lie. His pain bit me at the throat. And I could have welled up in tears if I stayed in my feels.

Now Eze is stuck. His mum cancels his return ticket just as he arrives at the airport. The boy needs help to return. Well, you can tell who offers to help. And Pius, who keeps getting into scam-related troubles, needs help, too. He could even only resort to one last option: Eze. Funny how those who know him best keep warning him to not scam his cousin.

So this isn't just about a Nigerian prince trying to escape repercussions. It’s also the story of a lost boy in a strange place, who's forced to face himself. I wonder how much autobiographical the material of writer-director Okoro, who's Igbo, Nigerian and American, is on his debut. This is good. One story deepens and nuances the other. We want a well-made yahoo-yahoo film. Not one that breathes on the surface of things. Okoro gives us what we want.

Maybe not entirely.

Beside Grace, a strict but loving professor, all we see is mostly negative. Corrupt airport personnel. Compromised police boss. And lawless constitution. Not to be mistaken. This is storytelling with good intent. But good intent isn't enough. There need be counterpoints for some balance. Similarly, the music, especially during slow motions, can become overwhelming instead of emphasizing a feeling. But the soundtracked Nigerian songs better the experience. But  the atmosphere of a Nigerian middle-class home is correct. I see the yellow bulb come on, I hear the hum of the TV and I watch heated water stream out of the kettle. I was there with Eze. But I was also back in time and back at home.

Pius once tells Eze: “The people I scam, they are just as bad as me. They think they can make money without working for it.” Really, Pius? But Pius doesn't do email scams. He does it all. Black money scam. Rice ticket scam. Fake arrest scam. Etc. That Pius’ statement is key to how the film ends. (The plotting is impressive. In ten minutes we know everything we should and more: how the film will end. We just don't know we do.) But it also signals how weak Pius' justification for scamming is. He only has Nigerians' unique quest for money to offer. It's all about money. Nobody wants to be the man that pushes sand in a wheelbarrow on site. But if the man starts making money tomorrow everybody will start pushing sand. One does expect a richer motive from Andrew and Faraday's screenplay. If only for empathy’s sake. But Pius is still fairly human. He's still a con artist whose spirit we can envy if his hustle we can’t admire.

Nigerian Prince is culturally relevant, right beside Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani's I Do Not Come To You By Chance and Teju Cole's Every Day Is For The Thief. Only a chapter of the latter addresses email scams, which counts. A film like this is long due. Now here, it's a useful, if flawed, one. I'll recommend for all except the Indian colleague who, perhaps playfully, asked my friend if he was a Nigerian prince. And people like him.

The Great Nigerian Films (TGNF) are a collection of my favourite Nigerian movies. My criterion is the quality of a film. But I'm likely to pick a so-so film that is vital to film development and film studies in the country. These films are both a primer and a companion to Nollywood. And this is a work of documenting and archiving.