Roses and Ivy feels like a modern retelling of the Jacob and Esau story, but with a twist: instead of a deliberate exchange of a birth right, we witness an unspoken and unreasonable exchange of fates. This exchange sets the stage for a deeply unsettling and flawed narrative, where selfishness and betrayal take centre stage, surprisingly rewarded without consequence.

Much like Jacob’s actions in the biblical tale, Rose’s questionable choices are inexplicably justified and even celebrated by the film’s creator, Biodun Stephens. It’s a story designed to favour the offender, leaving the viewer questioning its moral compass.

Let’s dive into the review. Spoilers ahead!

Story

The story of Roses and Ivy revolves around the dynamic between two sisters, Rose and Evelyn, as they navigate themes of family expectations, betrayal, and the complexities of sibling relationships.

It explores Evelyn’s diligent pursuit of academic and personal success contrasted with Rose’s carefree, often selfish decisions, culminating in a strong yet inconsistent portrayal of love, ambition, and self-interest. At its heart, the series examines how familial bonds are tested when loyalty and personal desires clash.

Plot

While the Roses and Ivy builds a compelling foundation, the plot often stumbles in execution. The narrative unfolds as a series of events that take the sisters from their early academic struggles through dramatic turns, including their father’s health crisis, Evelyn’s heartbreak over Lanre’s departure, and Rose’s increasingly irrational decisions.

The plot follows Rose’s descent into questionable behaviour, such as dating her sister’s best friend and later betraying her trust. This creates a disjointed path that ends with Rose married to Lanre and grappling with motherhood, but the lack of coherence and logical progression undermines the emotional weight of its pivotal moments.

The plot relies heavily on traditional but poorly executed devices. The inciting incident of their father’s stroke derails Evelyn’s academic dreams and introduces family conflict. The love triangle between Evelyn, Rose, and Lanre becomes the central tension, but it is mishandled. Voiceovers from the sisters attempt to add emotional depth but only reiterate what’s already visible, diminishing their effectiveness.

Key moments, such as Rose secretly dating Lanre, fail to generate the intended tension due to unclear character motivations, making their actions feel implausible.

The climax, where Rose marries Lanre and asks Evelyn to act as her surrogate, feels both rushed and forced. What could have been a moment of emotional growth or resolution instead becomes a neat but unrealistic conclusion.

Evelyn’s subdued reaction to Rose’s betrayals lacks depth and exploration, leaving the emotional fallout between the sisters largely unaddressed. The reliance on clichés like sudden time jumps and inconsistent characterisation ultimately weakens the narrative’s impact.

Performances

The child actors are a highlight of the show, delivering natural and engaging performances that lend authenticity to the story’s early stages. Standout performances by Diana and Dominique Egwuatu, Favour Etim, Ella Okorie, and Nifemi Lawal bring charm and realism that are lost as the series progresses.

Uche Montana’s portrayal of Roselyn is the glue holding much of the film together. Her softly expressive face and understated delivery perfectly match the series’ monotonous tone. Her emotional outbursts feel believable and impactful because of the contrast they create with her usual reserved demeanour. However, Roselyn is not a character you should root for—she is selfish, manipulative, and deeply flawed.

Montana effectively portrays these traits, making the lack of grief she shows for her father’s death feel entirely in character, especially when contrasted with Evelyn’s visibly emotional response. Montana captures this with nuance, particularly in moments where Roselyn’s empathy emerges only when it suits her personal grievances—a choice that feels intentional, likely reflecting Biodun Stephens’ vision to make the audience grapple with morally grey characters.

Munachi Abii, as Evelyn, delivers a performance that carries the emotional weight of her character. However, the abrupt transition from Favour Etim and Ella Okorie as the younger versions of Roselyn and Evelyn to the older actors feels jarring and unnatural. This lack of continuity undermines the believability of the university scenes, as Munachi and Montana seem miscast in terms of their age for the setting.

Despite this, Munachi’s portrayal of Evelyn’s controlled sadness and quiet resilience is commendable. However, the writing fails her character by introducing inconsistencies, such as Evelyn’s reaction—or lack thereof—to Roselyn’s outrageous request for surrogacy, followed by her even more shocking proposal of traditional pregnancy.

Evelyn’s subdued response to these betrayals feels out of sync with the character we’ve grown to know, further muddled by dialogue implying Roselyn’s behaviour stems from her belief that she “owns” Evelyn. This weak attempt at resolution feels disconnected from Evelyn’s actual grievances and sacrifices, making her emotional arc feel incomplete.

Taiye Arimoro as Lanre delivers a serviceable performance. His character’s sudden shift from Evelyn’s best friend to Roselyn’s love interest feels poorly developed and undermines the strong connection established between the three in their younger years. The lack of logical build-up to Lanre’s relationship with Roselyn cheapens the dynamic, making his actions seem thoughtless and inconsistent.

While Arimoro portrays Lanre as a caring husband, his character lacks depth, and his eventual dismissal of Evelyn feels unearned. Ultimately, Lanre’s arc is emblematic of the film’s overall flaw in character development, with key relationships and motivations left underexplored or outright neglected.

Technical Aspects

The technical elements of Roses and Ivy are some of its strongest aspects, effectively supporting its mood and themes. The poster is particularly striking, hinting at the love triangle and tension that permeates the story.

The music, including the score, soundtrack, and theme song, is beautifully melancholic, perfectly setting the dark and emotional tone from the very beginning. The way the music flows seamlessly into the credits at the end of each episode deepens the tension and emotional resonance, helping to elevate the drama.

The cinematography is also impressive. The soft lighting, muted colours, and choice of shots match the gentle yet tense atmosphere. Together, these technical elements create a cohesive aesthetic that contrasts with the narrative’s shortcomings.

Final Thoughts

It’s astounding that such a twisted and chaotic story was conceived in the first place. Roses and Ivy attempts to explore complex familial relationships and moral dilemmas but ultimately comes off as disjointed, implausible, and frustrating.

The filmmakers’ decision to twist the narrative so drastically; to paint Evelyn as the “closet enemy” while positioning Roselyn as the “angel in deed” feels like an unnecessary and forced reversal. This portrayal makes little sense, especially considering the build up to their contrasting characters.

Both sisters are flawed and manipulative in their own ways, but the attempt to canonise Roselyn despite her glaring selfishness is not only unconvincing but psychologically troubling. What kind of mindset crafts a story where betrayal, selfishness, and manipulation are rewarded? It’s as if the creators revelled in distorting moral sensibilities for the sake of shock value.

Noticeable errors throughout the series detract from its credibility, such as Evelyn’s unchanged hairstyle spanning three years in Episode 1. By Episode 4, everything spirals into chaos: Rose has an accident, Lanre’s mother discovers his relationship with Evelyn, Evelyn goes into labour, and everyone rushes to the hospital all in a matter of minutes! These coincidences strain plausibility, and the long, drawn-out therapy session at the end tries to over-explain the characters’ motivations, testing the audience’s patience.

As if that wasn’t enough, the long, drawn-out therapy session at the end—which mirrors the opening scene—tries to over-explain the characters’ motivations and resolve lingering conflicts. By this point, it’s too little, too late. The exposition feels patronising, as if the filmmakers are desperate to justify their questionable narrative choices. It’s a tedious conclusion that tests the audience’s patience, leaving you exasperated and wishing the film had ended 20 minutes earlier.

And then, the ultimate insult: a happy ending. Roselyn’s selfishness is rewarded with a complete family, and Evelyn’s sacrifices are swept under the rug. Lovely, isn’t it? For a film that claims to delve into the complexities of family, Roses and Ivy leaves behind a hollow, unsatisfying aftertaste.

Verdict

Roses and Ivy is, surprisingly, a well-structured series that manages to keep viewers invested in its narrative, despite its many flaws. Its exploration of familial relationships and moral dilemmas is intriguing, but the forced twists and turns in the story often undermine its impact.

While the film’s technical elements and performances offer some redeeming qualities, the chaotic progression and morally ambiguous resolutions leave much to be desired.

Ultimately, it’s an interesting watch that will have you questioning your own moral compass, and the filmmakers’ core intentions.

Rating: 3/5