Over The Bridge draws viewers into a Lagos banker’s unraveling life, blending psychological tension with corporate intrigue. Directed by Tolu Ajayi in his narrative feature debut, the film centres on Folarin (Ozzy Agu), a high-flying investment banker whose dream rail project unravels amid financial scandals and ethical compromises. As pressure mounts from his boss and a controversial $16 million shortfall, Folarin’s personal life crumbles, culminating in a disappearance that lands him in a remote fishing village, grappling with amnesia and redemption.

The narrative hums with a quiet intensity, its spiritual undercurrents and corporate machinations evoking a world where ambition erodes the soul, leaving audiences to ponder the cost of progress in Nigeria’s relentless urban grind.

Ajayi’s restrained touch crafts a film that examines ambition’s human cost, its introspective pace inviting reflection on Nigeria’s ethical crossroads, though its slow build tests patience.

This review is as introspective as the film itself. Enjoy the ride, but be prepared for spoilers.

A Mind Unraveling

Folarin’s inner world anchors Over The Bridge, a portrait of a man teetering on collapse, his panic attacks and alcohol haze revealing a psyche fractured by ambition’s weight.

The emotional arc traces his descent from a poised professional to lost wanderer, each layer of guilt and doubt peeling back to expose the toll of ethical erosion. Jumoke (Segilola Ogidan), his glamorous wife, mirrors his turmoil, her unraveling marriage a counterpoint to his professional fall, underscoring the personal ripples of systemic corruption. Kevin (Chimezie Imo), the young protégé whose death haunts Folarin, serves as a tragic echo, his fate a catalyst for Folarin’s crisis of conscience. The story probes Nigeria’s cultural obsession with upward mobility, where dreams of modernization twist into moral quagmires, its subtext whispering of spiritual reckoning—the Jonah-like village exile a metaphor for divine judgment. This introspective progression builds a meditative tension, inviting viewers to feel the quiet despair of a man who, in chasing bridges to the future, risks falling into the abyss.

A Narrative That Layers and Lingers

The plot builds methodically, opening with Folarin’s polished life shattered by the rail project’s $16 million shortfall, his boss Michael (Paul Adams) pressing for underhanded fixes to secure international tenders. As scandals surface, Folarin’s intermittent blackouts and hip-flask sips escalate, his birthday vanishing into a car plunge over a bridge, presumed fatal. Rescued by villagers, amnesia erases his past, intercut with Jumoke’s frantic search and flashbacks to Kevin’s death, the story’s rhythm a slow burn that cues subtext through recurring motifs—the painting of an island village, the church Jonah tale.

Pacing holds steady, its calm monotony heightening anticipation, though the one-hour mark tests patience with corporate jargon that demands a second viewing to unpack. Foreshadowing weaves seamlessly, dialogue clashing with uneasy sounds against happy claps, hinting at the rot beneath “fancy words and impressive slides.” The structure, non-linear and ambitious, layers every scene with consequence, its momentum suffering only in transitional cuts that occasionally stall, yet rewarding with a spiritual depth that lingers.

Faces That Ground the Fractures

Ozzy Agu’s Folarin commands the screen, a measured performance that conveys quiet pain through subtle tics and zoned-out stares, anchoring the film’s psychological weight without overreaching. His command of corporate lingo feels authentic, each line laced with the banker’s fraying resolve, peaking in the amnesia sequences where vulnerability cracks his facade. Segilola Ogidan’s Jumoke delivers resonant restraint, her unraveling marriage a subtle emotional peak, her frantic search conveying desperation without histrionics. Chimezie Imo’s Kevin, though brief, carries tragic promise, his death a misfire that lingers in Agu’s haunted gaze. Paul Adams as Michael exudes oily authority, his pressure tactics a flat but believable foil. The ensemble shines in restraint, Agu’s lead elevating the monotonous tone to introspective heights, though the corporate jargon occasionally mutes supporting roles, their delivery solid yet undemanding.

A Craft That Whispers Subtext

Tolu Ajayi’s direction fuses precision with poetry, the editing a masterful tool that intercuts timelines and overlays scenes, layering foreshadowing like the Jonah sermon against Folarin’s fall. Cinematography shifts textures brilliantly, anamorphic lenses rendering Lagos’s urban sprawl as “carcasses of broken promises,” the light rail’s skeletal frames evoking stalled progress, while spherical wide-angle in the village sequences breathes spiritual isolation, the island painting a recurring motif that deepens psychological fracture. Sound design excels in dissonance, uneasy tones clashing with claps during presentations, cueing subtext of rot beneath gloss, the score a sparse whisper that amplifies Folarin’s panic attacks. Production design grounds the dual worlds, Jumoke’s glamorous home contrasting the village’s raw simplicity, costumes underscoring class divides.

Lighting plays with shadows in Folarin’s blackouts, framing his unraveling with subtle menace, though some transitional cuts feel abrupt, their rhythm occasionally disjointed. These choices immerse, the village’s wide shots evoking a meditative escape, the urban close-ups trapping viewers in Folarin’s descent.

Final Thoughts

Over The Bridge confronts the Nigerian dream’s dark underbelly, where ambition’s bridge to prosperity spans an abyss of ethical decay and mental fracture. The film’s spiritual motifs—the Jonah tale, the island painting—pose a haunting query: can a man cross the divide between self and society without losing his soul or purpose?

Its introspective gaze on corruption’s human cost, from Folarin’s panic to Kevin’s fate, triggers reflections on progress’s price, the rail project a symbol of modernization’s hollow promise.

Yet, the monotonous calm, while building tension, risks numbing the viewer, its corporate jargon a barrier that demands patience. Nollywood’s melodrama often amplifies moral tales, but here Ajayi’s restraint crafts a contemplative space, inviting audiences to linger in the quiet despair of a nation chasing bridges to nowhere.

Verdict

Over The Bridge rewards patient viewers who savour introspective thrillers, its subtext and imagery delivering intellectual satisfaction. It suits film fans willing to unpack corporate jargon and slow burns for thematic depth. This debut earns its 12 AMVCA nominations, a thoughtful bridge worth crossing.

Rating: 4/5