The Wildflower

The Wildflower tells the story of three women who navigate physical and sexual abuse from three different men. The film is directed by Biodun Stephen (A Simple Lie, Breaded Life), produced by Vincent Okonkwo (Passport, Ponzi), and written (primarily) by Nneka Ojor (Discontent, Heaven On My Mind), and it makes an obvious effort to display as much as it can the many forms in which abuse against women happens, as well as how society enables and covers up for its perpetrators. 

Toyin Abraham plays Mama Olisa, a small provisions trader who lives with two daughters and her husband, King Jimi (Nosa Rex). One night he comes home to ask for food when he had left no money to prepare it, and an argument ensues when he is told there is no food. So he unleashes his anger on his wife, inflicting a wound on her, and it is revealed that this is not the first time this has happened. It is a fairly familiar trope for anyone who has seen a fair share of old Nollywood TV movies, but our writers have gone for the familiar because sadly, it still is a common occurrence in real life.

Our writers have gone for the familiar because sadly, it still is a common occurrence in real life.

Mama Olisa does her best to shield her children from the abuse she suffers at the hands of her husband, but she overlooks and trivializes the overt sexual advances Adaolisa (Sandra Okunzuwa), her teenage daughter, receives from their neighbour Johntana (Zubby Michael), whose verbal lasciviousness progresses to physical sexual assault. Our trio is then completed by Rolake (Damilare Kuku), or Roli, who lives close to Adaolisa and her mother. Between providing big sister advice to Adaolisa and diplomatically offering the same to her mother, she encounters abuse of her own at her new workplace, where her dream job—personal assistant to renowned architect, Gowon Williams (Deyemi Okanlowon)—slowly turns sour as Gowon’s mask of niceness gradually slips to reveal his luscious intentions. 

Our writers also make sure to capture the varying ways these women respond to abuse of themselves and others, as well as portray, to some extent, how members of society treat victims and perpetrators of abuse. Rolake is considerably stronger in dishing advice to others than she is in dealing with her own situation, while Mummy Olisa makes excuses for her husband and becomes an uncanny enabler in her daughter’s case. In the last act, a religious view is also thrown in through Kachi Nnochiri’s depiction of Pastor Dotun, and with that vital inclusion, we get to see a miniature cosplay of the average victim’s social environment.   

But while The Wildflower shines a light on a very critical, yet still underreported societal ill, and one that needs as much coverage as it can get, it works more as an exposé and less as a drama. Citation (2020) proved you could do both, so it is no real excuse that this focus on the crimes that these women suffer hinders them from properly fleshing out their characters. Who are they outside the context of their abuse? Does ‘Mama Olisa’ have a name of her own? What inspired the close, almost familial relationship between Rolake and Adaolisa’s family, and where is Rolake’s actual family? The film makes little attempt to answer these questions, and as a result we will leave with the story of “The abuse of three women” rather than “The three women who were abused”. And there is an important difference there.

We get to see a miniature cosplay of the average victim’s social environment.   

Characters are written in stark contrasts of black and white, so everyone can quickly be sorted into “good” and “bad” columns. The actors that play them are handicapped by this lack of effort, and try as they might, they can barely salvage the drama of the movie with their performances. Toyin Abraham slips into a half–poor English, half-Yoruba accent to make some attempt at comedy, while a playful soundtrack prods you to laugh. Throw in the addition of Mummy Osapolo, the one-dimensional, pidgin-spitting noisy neighbour and Vincent Okonkwo makes the same mistake as in Passport in trying to squeeze in comedy by inserting supposedly funny accents. It should also be considered if there should even be any place for attempts at slapstick comedy in a movie with stakes this high, and especially in the scenes between Adaolisa and her would-be abuser. 

Deyemi Okanlawon has no problems playing the archetypal brooding, successful man, and Gowon’s villainous arc is handled spotlessly. But behind his menacing scowls, nothing is done to make him more of a disgusting human being and less of the cartoonish ‘bad guy’. And same goes for King Jimi and Johntana, characters of whom we know no more than their names and their proclivity to assaulting women.    

For The Wildflower’s last act it devolves into a medico-legal drama, as the focus centres on getting justice for Rolake while Adaolisa and her mother’s abusers are inexplicably sidelined. Then it may finally lose its audience at the gates of the courtroom. It is clear that our producer has put much thought into crafting a life-like, relatable story that we can learn from, but hardly enough attention has been set on ensuring we are given a greater connection to these women and thus a closer view to the trauma they are put through. The Wildflower’s message, poignant and relatable as it is, is harmed by a failure to connect the audience with its characters.