With the release of Lísàbí, I’m now totally convinced about the revolution happening in the Yorùbá movie industry. It’s a new dawn.
There is a reawakening. Our actors, actresses, producers, directors, and all the major players in the Yorùbá movie industry have rediscovered the magic they had in the 1990s and early 2000s, when they produced epic films like Ògbórí Ẹlẹ́mọ̀ṣọ́, Baṣọ̀run Gáà, Àfònjá, Efúnsetán Aníwúrà, and others.
From Ògúndábède to Aníkúlápo, Jagun Jagun to Àjàkájù, Àyìnlá to Funmilayo Ransome -Kuti, House of Ga’à to Lísàbí, these movies are deeply rooted in our beautiful culture, and the execution has been second to none. All those involved have demonstrated creative excellence at its peak.
Lísàbí is another masterpiece that will dominate the visual space for a while, emphasizing that Yorùbá culture is bigger than Africa.
Despite being a beautifully told story about the Ẹ̀gbá resistance against tyranny and their defiance of a world power, the film didn’t downplay the influence of the Old Ọ̀yọ́ Empire, with its seat of power in Ọ̀yọ́-Ilé and the Aláàfin, an unquestionable entity bearing the cognomen “Ikú, Bábà, Yèyé.”
The trio phrase “Ikú, Bábà, Yèyé”—translates as “The Death, The Paternal, and The Maternal”—might not resonate with us in this modern democratic era, but in ancient Yorùbá days, it held immense significance. I’ll delve into how the Aláàfin earned that title in another article.
First, the grandeur displayed in the movie’s setting is highly commendable. The use of artifacts, costumes, and folksongs was deliberate and intentional, effectively representing both the Ẹ̀gbás and the Ọ̀yọ́s.
The film also excellently depicted the politics at play in Yorùbá courts at the time. It vividly showed that power is taken, not given—a recurring theme in Yorùbá history. Sàngódèyí did not wait around to become Olórí Ìlàrí. He seized his moment when the Olú Ọlọ́dàn challenged the powers of Ọlọ́yọ́.
Moreover, the movie did a great job showcasing how traditional weddings were conducted in Yorùbáland. This aspect is gradually fading due to civilization, and films should not only entertain but educate.
Similarly, the concept of Àáro was well portrayed. Our ancestors organized themselves into a mutual aid society called Ẹgbẹ́ Àáro (Àáro Society) for more efficient farming—a tradition that reflects the collective strength and unity of the Yorùbá people.
However, despite the film’s strong points, I have a few concerns about certain portrayals. Historical movies should aim to avoid confusing or complicating our history as a people. A fellow Yorùbá culture enthusiast pointed out how movies about the Roman Empire often serve as a way of learning Roman history. We are fortunate to have this revolution that translates Yorùbá histories into film, but we must get it right to avoid misinforming the world about our identity.
I was impressed that the filmmakers researched enough to know that the Old Ọ̀yọ́ Empire had extensive trade relations with Portugal. In 1471, it was officially recorded that Portugal contacted the Aláàfin, and they maintained a cordial relationship for centuries. In fact, a great historian, Olóyè Lájì Abbas, the Àarẹ Ònpìtàn of Ìbàdàn, insists that a Portuguese man knew Aláàfin Sàngó personally and wrote about his encounter with the powerful, posthumously deified emperor. Please note that Aláàfin Sàngó Tẹ̀llà-Òkò, an Òrìsà (deity) and third Aláàfin of Ọ̀yọ́, is different from Sàngó Ayílẹ́gbẹ̀ẹ́-Ọ̀run, the Irúnmọlẹ̀ (divinity).
Historically, it’s true that the Ọ̀yọ́ Empire had strong ties with Portugal long before Great Britain arrived, as shown in the movie. However, my issue is that the Portuguese characters were communicating in English rather than Portuguese, the official language of Portugal.
Lísàbí was not just any man; he was a giant, both in stature and in spirit. The movie didn’t focus on an important aspect, which is that although Lísàbí lived in Igbehin, his roots are traced back to the Ẹ̀gbá village of Itoku. This connection to Itoku adds another layer to his character and heritage, one that could have enriched the film’s narrative even further.
I don’t mind that the movie featured many popular, talented, and experienced actors. My concern is with the use of language, which didn’t match the calibre of the cast. For example, Bàbá Peter Fátómilọ́lá only appeared in one scene, and there was a disappointing lack of Yorùbá proverbs or any deep use of the Yorùbá language. It was too plain for a historical movie.
While they made an effort to speak basic Yorùbá in the Ọ̀yọ́ scenes (though it could have been better), the Ẹ̀gbá scenes were inconsistent. Some characters didn’t even speak Ẹ̀gbá at all.
Another cultural misstep was in the portrayal of Ọlọ́yọ́, who shot some slaves dead. In Yorùbá culture, it’s forbidden for a king to look upon a dead body, yet the scene was cast as though there was nothing wrong with it.
Adébọ̀wálé Adédayọ̀ (Mr. Macaroni) gave an exceptional performance and spoke the Ẹ̀gbá dialect well. However, his line, “Tí a bá ní ká mú èní, Ọ̀la ni a ma mú,” didn’t sound like something from Ẹ̀gbá in 1775; it felt more like a Gen-Z Lagosian reciting a Yorùbá proverb. The director should have adjusted this part to suit the historical setting.
Additionally, Lísàbí’s brilliance as a strategist went beyond mysticism—his tactical planning and the formation of the Ẹgbẹ́ Àro allowed the Ẹ̀gbás to prepare for the Ọ̀yọ́ invasion, ultimately freeing themselves from oppression.
According to history, Lísàbí instructed his fellow farmers involved in his Àáro Society to return to their settlements and kill the Ìlàrís stationed there. This demonstrated his profound understanding of strategy and bravery. It was a brilliant display of military cunning, far more compelling than the movie’s overemphasis on his partnership with spiritual beings as the source of his power.
I believe the storyline would have been more captivating had it highlighted this strategic brilliance rather than leaning so heavily on mysticism.
Before Christianity and Islam, both the Ẹ̀gbás and Ọ̀yọ́s were rich with military strategy and structured offices for warfare, not just mysticism. Africa is often misrepresented as uncivilized, but our history proves otherwise. Films like Lísàbí should showcase the sophistication of Yorùbá warfare alongside its spiritual elements.
Lastly, I must give credit to Hakeem Effect. His consistency in these revolutionary movies is noteworthy, and he deserves his flowers.
While we eagerly await the sequel to be released in January 2025, I’m rating Lísàbí an 8/10.
Credit: Johnson Okùnadé
johnsonokunade.com
