THE SERPENT’S GIFT
KAYODE KASUM TAKES A NOSEDIVE IN DRAMATIZING THE IGBO CULTURE.
Set in modern-day Southeast Nigeria, The Serpent’s Gift follows the sudden death of Nduka Sylvanus, a successful Igbo businessman whose young widow, Ijeoma (Linda Ejiofor-Suleiman), becomes the unexpected custodian of his vast empire. The story pits her against Nduka’s grasping relatives in a battle over inheritance and greed. It is a film that seeks to celebrate the Igbo entrepreneurial spirit while exposing the fault lines of tradition and ambition.
Kasum’s approach in The Serpent’s Gift diverges sharply from his earlier work in Afamefuna. Where Afamefuna wove the Igbo apprenticeship system into a heartfelt, even if flawed, narrative of brotherhood and hardwork, his latest offering leans heavily on melodrama, amplifying familial strife to an operatic heights. Afamefuna felt like a conversation with Igbo culture, respectful and grounded, even when it stumbled. The Serpent’s Gift, however, risks crossing into cultural voyeurism or for the lack of a better word, anthropological exhibitionism— an exaggerated portrayal of cultural practices for external consumption, and here, Kasum flirts with that line. The film’s depiction of Igbo widowhood traditions—particularly the pressure on Ijeoma to relinquish her inheritance and also drink the water used in bathing her late husband—feels like a staged spectacle for an audience eager to peek into the Igbo life, an attempt to show an archaic tradition which modernity has almost forced into extinction.
This voyeuristic tilt is the film’s Achilles’ heel. Modern southeast Nigeria is a blend of progress and heritage, yet The Serpent’s Gift chooses to lean on outdated customs and wrong traditional practices to heighten its stakes, as if the story can’t stand alone without some cultural embellishment. Kasum showed in Afamefuna that he could approach an Igbo story with empathy and nuance, but here, his lens occasionally feels like that of an outsider marveling at, rather than inhabiting the culture. The film’s anthropological lens magnifies rituals, like the ceremonial walk of the widow, at the expense of exploring the subtler dynamics of a wealthy Igbo family torn apart by grief and greed, which could have grounded the story in a more authentic present.
This screenplay co-written by Stephen Okonkwo who is Igbo and Ufuoma Metitiri shields the film from being a story told entirely from the point of view of Kasum who is but an observer of the culture the film seeks to portray. The dialogue is rich in local oral phrases and cultural elements only a native can capture on writing. Yet, the screenplay falters in its introspection. While it captures the surface of Igbo traditions, rituals, family hierarchies, and proverbs, it shies away from probing the moral ambiguities of these practices. The depiction of widowhood customs, for instance, lacks the depth to explore why such traditions persist or how they are contested in contemporary Igbo society. This suggests a missed opportunity to delve into the tensions between tradition and modernity, a theme that would have elevated the script to serious and entertaining culture discourse.
Nonetheless, there’s something to admire about this film. From the opening frames, the film’s tension is palpable, almost touchable. We learn of Nduka’s death before his family does, a narrative choice that casts a shadow over every interaction in the first few minutes. The rich Igbo language and cinematography capture the verdant pulse of South-Eastern Nigeria, with sweeping shots of landscape that breathe life into the setting. The soundtrack, laced with Igbo highlife, hums with nostalgia of old Nollywood films, tethering the drama to its cultural roots. Ejiofor-Suleiman’s Ijeoma is the film’s heartbeat, her defiance is a quiet rebellion against a system that seeks to erase her and other widows like her. She portrays Ijeọma with a searing intensity, a grieving widow who wields both steel and fragility. She’s badass in her resolve to protect her husband’s legacy, yet there are times when her quiet moments of grief threaten to unravel her under the weight of funeral tradition and her husband’s family’s unrelenting greed.
Unfortunately, Kasum’s flirtation with dramatic exhibition dulls the film’s edge despite his evident admiration for Igbo culture. To fully engage with these stories, he needs to avoid leaning towards romanticization or sensationalization of stories but instead, strive for nuanced and authentic portrayals that respect the complexities of the cultures and experiences he seeks to represent. The Serpent Gift is neither a triumph nor a failure, but a work that dances on the blurred line between cultural discourse and voyeurism. Still, it’s a journey worth taking, for the quiet questions it tries to ask about widowhood tradition, wealth preservation, and the cost of legacy in a society where years of a wealthy patriarch’s hard work can come to swift ruin in the hands of a wrong custodian.
The main cast in The Serpent’s Gift includes Linda Ejiofor-Suleiman, Stan Nze, Tina Mba, Daniel Etim-Effiong, Beverly Osu, Ric Hassani and a few others.
The movie was released to cinemas on August 29.
From All of Us at Real Nollywood, we rate the movie a 52%
