Cinema has the power to ask questions that words often struggle with. What do we remember? What do we choose to forget? And what happens when memory itself collapses? We’ve had a similar story like this in Nollywood. Kunle Afolayan‘s Recall, which premiered at AFRIFF 2024 and is currently showing in cinemas, positions itself in this space of emotional loss and spiritual interference.

It’s a premise loaded with emotional potential, touching on themes of memory, love, and the shadows of spiritual interference. The film presents itself with polish and poise, pulling the audience into a world shaped by loss and longing. But beneath the surface of this domestic mystery lies a film that reaches for emotional depth in every direction, often forgetting to ask whether it has earned it.

A Hollow Story in a Heavy Frame

Anita, played by Sharon Ooja, loses the memory of the last ten years of her life. She wakes up unable to recognise her husband, her children, or the life she’s built. This premise holds the potential for psychological depth, emotional dissonance, and moral complexity. Yet, the film barely scratches the surface. The story leans heavily on its idea but never follows through. We’re told Anita is searching for answers, but her arc rarely suggests inner conflict or real stakes. The concept of recall is undermined by a lack of clear intent: is Anita supposed to recover her memory, reclaim her life, or reject it? The film never decides.

Worse still, when Anita chooses to leave her husband Goke (Olarotimi Fakunle), the film has an opportunity to resolve quietly, but forces a bloated spiritual climax instead. Goke offers his life for hers after she becomes ill due to mysterious spiritual forces. In return, she chooses to remarry him. The emotional logic behind this resolution is as thin as the scarf someone ties on her in a herbalist’s hut. For a film obsessed with emotion, it rarely earns any.

A Plot Built on Convenience, Not Conflict

The film opens with a celebration of Anita and Goke’s tenth wedding anniversary. The tone is warm, the setup promising. Quickly, however, the pacing unravels. There are long montages filled with slow shots, musical swells, and emotional beats that feel unearned. Much of the narrative is padded with scenes that try to evoke feeling but come off as forced. The prophetess scene with Patience Ozokwor, complete with the subtitle “speaking in glossolalia,” feels misplaced, more comedic than spiritual. This kind of tonal confusion surfaces repeatedly.

When Anita divorces Goke and time passes, the story could have moved into something sharper. Instead, it meanders into mysticism. The influence of juju as a plot device is significant. Anita’s memory loss is tied to it, but the film never unpacks this idea. There’s a suggestion that even if Goke didn’t cause it, he benefited from it. Still, the film doesn’t hold him accountable or challenge Anita’s final choice to return to him. The questions are there, but the film doesn’t engage with them.

Straining to Connect

Sharon Ooja’s portrayal of Anita feels stuck between facial expressions. The emotional weight of memory loss never really settles in her performance. She tries to give range, but rarely lands on anything grounded. Olarotimi Fakunle, as Goke, delivers a performance that swings between teary breakdowns and confused smiles, never quite giving us a man grieving a lost marriage. His fake buck teeth do not help. There are moments meant to pull sympathy, but instead we’re left laughing at his tears.

Veterans like Tina Mba (Anita’s mother), a Keppy Ekpenyong (her father), and Patience Ozokwor (the prophetess) manage to lift their scenes. The two child actors give spirited performances, but feel like they’re in another film altogether. Their tone doesn’t match the rest of the production, making their emotional highs seem over-directed or out of place.

Polished Surface, Weak Direction

Like many recent Nollywood titles, Recall looks clean. The cinematography is sleek, the lighting is consistent, and the colour palette—dominated by cool, monotone blues and fog—reflects the film’s emotional tone. However, this visual polish is not backed by strong direction. The camera lingers where it shouldn’t, emotional moments are rushed or overdone, and scenes exist without clear motivation. The CGI butterfly looks poor. The montage sequences drag. The entire production seems focused on creating mood rather than building meaning.

Afolayan’s early films asked real questions. The Figurine balanced spiritual mystery with psychological realism. Recall abandons that balance. It tries to explore spiritual consequence but instead collapses under melodrama. The ambiguity that once made Afolayan’s work intriguing is now replaced by predictability and poorly handled symbolism. Even the soundtrack feels heavy-handed. Lyrics like “What have we become?” and “If I can’t recall you…” force an emotional tone the story hasn’t earned or even preached about.

Final Thoughts: What’s Left to Remember?

Recall aims for emotional depth but delivers melodrama without nuance. It toys with big questions: memory, consent, spiritual interference, but drops them for a romance arc that never convinces. It gestures at complexity, yet refuses to stay with any idea long enough to say something meaningful. The ending asks us to believe in forgiveness, in love, in sacrifice. But it never shows us why.

Verdict

Recall presents a compelling premise but loses its way in execution. The film leans heavily on emotional suggestion without making its story or characters resonate. What should feel intimate and unsettling comes off as distant and confused. For all its sleek production and ambition, it lacks a clear emotional or thematic spine.

Rating: 2.2/5