In 2004, Muyiwa Ademola gave us Ori, a film that dared to explore Yoruba metaphysics, destiny, and fate at a time when spiritual thrillers were rare in Nollywood. Two decades later, Ori: The Rebirth arrives not just as a sequel, but as a cinematic echo, pulling the thread of its predecessor into a modern world where smartphones and spiritual wars now share screen time. The result is a story steeped in supernatural politics, familial devotion, and a heavy layer of confusion.

A Story Stitched by Spirit and Struggle

Ori: The Rebirth continues the arc of Bisade (Muyiwa Ademola), a successful man gripped by his fate and tormented by unseen forces. His mother-in-law, Yeye Fernandez, cloaked in spiritual righteousness, is secretly plotting his demise. Bisade is called home urgently from a trip to Abuja, but his plane crashes on the way—a divine interruption of evil. From here, the story becomes a riddle. He survives, but loses his memory, landing in a quiet village where he builds a new life with Temidun (Toyin Abraham), who is already raising their son, Eniafe. A spiritual war, masterminded by the cunning Yeye Fernandez and her dark cult, threatens to rip apart his life and plunge him once more into the vortex of his unfinished past.

The passage of time is poorly marked, making it difficult to track how long Bisade has been missing or how he transitioned into this second life. It’s only when his fate starts to unravel—through a spiritual attack and Temidun’s desperate prayers—that he regains his memory. The issue? His return to memory is abrupt. There is no visual or narrative bridge. One moment he is bleeding in a trance-like battle, the next, clarity.

This narrative unfolds with emotional and spiritual urgency, yet it struggles under the weight of its own structure. The story frequently jumps in time without proper cues, blurring key transitions. Characters appear or reappear without clear grounding. The film wants to be a mystery, but often ends up being an enigma even to those paying close attention.

Performances That Ground the Chaos

Despite its narrative flaws, the film is anchored by powerful performances. Toyin Abraham gives a soul-baring performance as Temidun, exuding grief, hope, and spiritual resilience. Her tears don’t feel performative; they pull you in. Sola Sobowale, as the matriarch whose fear of generational curses fuels devastating decisions, remains a force. Though she shares no screen time with Toyin, their parallel journeys reflect a mother’s capacity to destroy or protect, both equally laced with love.

Muyiwa Ademola revisits his role with mature restraint. He doesn’t push too hard; instead, he allows the chaos of Bisade’s world to swallow him naturally. Omowunmi Dada, as Bisade’s first wife Olapeju, and the young actor playing Eniafe, give grounded performances, even if the script forgets to flesh them out fully. Femi Adebayo, Odunlade Adekola, and Lateef Adedimeji appear, but their roles feel more like marketing placements than essential parts of the story.

A Film Fighting Itself

One of the biggest issues Ori: The Rebirth faces is tonal inconsistency and editorial choices. Abrupt scene transitions cut emotional arcs short. Expository monologues and unexplained spiritual logic dilute the emotional weight. At times, scenes designed to heighten tension instead drag out, particularly when padded with unnecessary dialogue or redundant action.

The film’s pacing is another challenge. Clocking in at over two hours, it begins to feel bloated. The film also carries the burden of being a sequel without offering enough on-ramp for new audiences. Without having watched Ori (2004), viewers are likely to be lost amid references, characters, and callbacks.

Visuals, Sound, and Spiritual Texture

Where Ori: The Rebirth succeeds technically is in its visual language. The cinematography in village scenes is rich and atmospheric. The mise-en-scène effectively brings a sense of time and place. The soundtrack is a standout element. Music heightens mood and delivers emotional cues. In several scenes, especially those featuring spiritual encounters, the music does more storytelling than the dialogue.

Final Thoughts: Fate, Memory, and the Weight of the Past

Ori: The Rebirth attempts to wrestle with destiny and human agency, and to a degree, it does. Its spiritual premise is potent, and its emotional themes are relatable. It attempts to explore fate, destiny, and the spiritual implications of ancestry, yet it is this ambition that becomes both its gift and flaw.

The strength of the film lies in its spiritual ambition. It takes on Yoruba cosmology, divine assignments, and generational curses with a kind of cinematic boldness rarely seen in contemporary Nollywood. But as was true with the 2004 original, the film is layered in ways that make it difficult to follow. Characters speak in coded monologues. Editing sometimes chops scenes before they settle. And if you haven’t seen the first film, the time jumps and spiritual logic may leave you piecing together more than just the plot. For viewers who saw the 2004 original, the callbacks are evident but poorly integrated. For new viewers, the lack of backstory becomes a stumbling block.

The narrative is bold, the performances visceral, but the storytelling struggles to balance suspense with clarity.

Still, for all its imperfections, Ori: The Rebirth stands out. It is its spiritual and psychological layering that makes it a compelling, if flawed, return. What it does offer is a compelling reminder that in the realm of the Yoruba worldview, no coincidence is ever just coincidence. Destiny is a character all on its own.

Verdict

Ori: The Rebirth is an ambitious spiritual sequel that sometimes gets tangled in its own threads. But if you’re willing to do the work of piecing it together, there are rewards in its symbolism, performances, and emotional stakes. It’s not perfect, but it’s undeniably daring.

Rating: 3/5