Aníkúlápó is a movie that portrays Yorùbá culture with a high level of accuracy, and making films of this nature is no small feat. It requires extensive research and a deep commitment to ensuring that the image portrayed is correct and not misleading.
From Aníkúlápó (2022) to Aníkúlápó Season One (2024), and now Aníkúlápó Season Two, the franchise has consistently showcased the beauty of Yorùbá culture, its architecture, settings, landscapes, systems of governance, trade networks, royalty, romance, slave trade, and international relations as they truly were.
The series places strong emphasis on the politics of Yorùbá palace courts, clearly showing that Yorùbá royalty is a balanced institution. Tyranny is not encouraged, as multiple checks and balances exist. Kings are not unquestionable; they must tread carefully in decision-making, as poor judgment can backfire and plunge the land into turmoil.
To date, Aníkúlápó remains one of the few Yorùbá films that has convincingly shown the world how sophisticated the Yorùbá people were in commerce and international trade with the Portuguese. The movie even takes it a step further by introducing intermarriage between the Portuguese and the Yorùbá, and I am eager to see how this will play out in Season Three.
Like many others, I eagerly looked forward to the continuation of the character Saró, brilliantly acted by Kúnlé Rẹ̀mí, and how his story would evolve. Saró had remained remarkably lucky across the prequels, from Saró Olófì of Gbọ̀ngán, to Saró Aníkúlápó of Ìlú Ojúmọ́, and then Saró Ẹlẹ̀mu of Ìlú Ajé. I was slightly disappointed not to see my favourite character return, although his son now carries on the name Saró.
While the movie has done an excellent job portraying Yorùbá religion as it was practiced before the advent of Abrahamic religions, Season One and Season Two also did a fantastic job depicting early Islam in Ẹdẹ, which is a historical fact. Islam in Ẹdẹ, Ìwó, and Ọ̀yọ́-Ilé predates that of Ìlọrin, which is today often referred to as the home of Islam in Yorùbáland.
Season two presents a replica of the Abrahamic concept of hell, with the Baṣọ̀run escaping the afterlife and returning to Ọ̀yọ́-Ilé as an awakened, ghoul-like entity who must feed on human flesh and souls to remain stable. This leads to his confinement in the jungle, where he wreaks havoc, eventually extending his terror to the Aláàfin’s first son.
The Prince of Ọ̀yọ́, Àrẹ̀mọ Adérójú, acted by Adéolúwa Okusaga, is portrayed as young, impulsive, brave, and chivalrous. He resents how his father, the Aláàfin, allowed the people of Ẹdẹ to cart away his sister, the princess of the great Ọ̀yọ́ Empire, as though she were a mere souvenir. Acting impulsively and without proper planning, he makes a weak attempt to rescue her from the Ẹdẹ Palace, only to be captured. In a show of diplomacy, the King of Ẹdẹ acted by Antar Laniyan chooses peace and allows both the prince and princess of Ọ̀yọ́ to return home unharmed.
The Aláàfin, however, strongly believes that “bí a bá fi àgbò fún eégún, àá jọ̀wọ́ okùn rẹ̀ sílẹ̀”. He is angered by Àrẹ̀mọ Adérójú for bringing the princess back from Ẹdẹ, believing that since she had been married off, she should remain there, even after Àrẹ̀mọ Kuranga’s death. Beneath the surface, the Aláàfin’s actions stem from a desperate desire to maintain peace with Ẹdẹ, even though the people of Ẹdẹ had, over time, lost interest in keeping Princess Ọmọ́wùmí.
In a subtle yet fascinating manner, the series illustrates the mysterious and adventurous world of local hunters in Yorùbáland, from the veneration of Ògún, to melodious Ìjálá chants, and even a glimpse of the mystical Àgbọ̀nrín, an antelope capable of transforming into beautiful maidens before hunters. The portrayals by Kiki and Saga were outstanding; it felt like reading a D.O. Fágúnwà novel or watching Bikear TV on YouTube.
Arọ́lákẹ́, acted by Bimbo Ademoye, relocates to Saki with Akin, played by Gabriel Afọláyan. She is soon informed by her mother-in-law that she is three months pregnant, an illustration of the discernment and intuitive gifts often attributed to elderly Yorùbá women. While Arọ́lákẹ́ herself was unaware, her mother-in-law already knew, and such women still exist in Yorùbá society today.
At this point, a subtle but gripping question lingers in the air: who is the father of the unborn child, Akin or the Aláàfin?
Arọ́lákẹ́ and Akin welcome their son joyfully, but their fortunes decline after Arọ́lákẹ́ throws away the mysterious, never-empty cowry pouch.
While farming palm kernels, Akin sings casually yet melodiously. He is soon discovered, hailed as a musician, and persuaded by Àdùnní Olóhùn Iyọ̀ to join her travelling troupe. Arọ́lákẹ́, however, is instinctively uncomfortable with this arrangement, and her suspicions are eventually validated.
It seems Arọ́lákẹ́’s joy is always short-lived.
Àwàrún, acted by Sọlá Shóbọ̀wálé, continues her portrayal as a woman of great repute and sharp business acumen. Her involvement in the slave trade underscores how such practices, much like modern-day kidnapping for ransom, were enabled by powerful individuals of the time who actively participated in them.
Olórí Súnkànmí, acted by Aisha Lawal, and Olórí Wojúọlá, acted by Moji Afọláyan, effectively portray how people united by deceit rarely trust one another. Despite their closeness, Olórí Wojúọlá does not fully trust Olórí Súnkànmí. Their bond is fickle and insincere. Notably, Olórí Wojúọlá places greater trust in Olórí Àgbà, acted by Rónkẹ́ Oshòdì-Òkè, on serious matters, aligning with Olórí Súnkànmí only when deception is required.
Abena from Fante is portrayed as innocent, kind, and endearing, the only true friend Princess Ọmọ́wùmí has in the Ẹdẹ Palace. Saved by Prince Ashiru, Abena grows to love the Ẹdẹ royal family and finds a new home there. Her loyalty is tested when she encounters people from her homeland and considers returning to her mother. When Princess Ọmọ́wùmí disguises herself to join them and is discovered, she flees and eventually falls into the hands of slave traders. Abena abandons her journey home and rushes back to Ẹdẹ, reaffirming her loyalty to the royal family.
It was a delight to see legends such as Chief Lérè Pàímọ́, Màmá Felicia Ògúnsọlá, popularly known as Ẹfúnṣetán Aníwúrà, the late Bàbá Oyéwọlé Olówómọjúọ̀rẹ́, also known as Baba Gebu, Bàbá Túnbọ̀sún Ọdúnsì, and other rarely seen icons grace our screens once again.
Although Aníkúlápó is not based on a true story, it appears to draw inspiration from real historical events. However, I believe real names from Oyo history should not have been used, as the timelines are inconsistent. For instance, in Aníkúlápó (2022), an Oyómèsì member (acted by Olóyè Ajere) refers to the Aláàfin as Aláàfin Alówólódù, the name of Aláàfin Adéyẹmí I, who ruled during the Kiriji War (1877 – 1893)
In Season One, Episode Four, the Aláàfin refers to himself as ọmọ Agbólúajé, contradicting the earlier reference. Alówólódù does not descend from the Agbólúajé lineage but from Aláàfin Abíọ́dún Adégolú, father of Aláàfin Àtìbà, who fathered Aláàfin Adélù, the father of Aláàfin Alówólódù Adéyẹmí I.
Furthermore, in Season Two, Episode Two, a discussion between the King of Ẹdẹ, acted by Antar Láníyan, and Prince Àrẹ̀mọ Ashiru, acted by Tayo Faniran, mentions that the Fulani had already taken control of Ìlọrin. This places the timeline after the death of Ààrẹ Ọ̀nà Kakanfò Àfọ̀njá ‘láyà ‘lọ́kọ̀ and the decline of the Old Ọ̀yọ́ Empire, including the fall of its seat of power, Ọ̀yọ́-Ilé which eventually moved to Àgọ́, the location of the present Ọ̀yọ́.
The Aníkúlápó series continues, and this marks my first review of the franchise. I am not totally impressed with Season Two, as the prequels were more thrilling and captivating. While we eagerly await Season Three, I will withhold my rating for now, as I believe the next season will make many things clearer and more cohesive.
Ẹ̀gbọ́n Kúnlé Afọláyan remains a phenomenal filmmaker. He leads, while others follow.
© Johnson Akínrìnadé Okùnadé
Website: johnsonokunade.com
31st January, 2026
