EfikoScore: 6.2/10.
Jack’enneth Opukeme and Adebayo Tijani tell a familiar love story with immense verve.
Near the start of Farmer’s Bride, Odun (Femi Branch), the titular farmer, is hosting a bunch of villagers, serenading them with his talking drum, while his bride Funmi (Gbubemi Ejeye) stares on in distaste. She has been forcefully married to this widower old enough to be her father and she wants everyone to feel her discomfort. To make the situation worse, Odun has a suspiciously close relationship with his late brother’s wife, Morenike (Mercy Aigbe).
Against her unhappiness and this chummy widower-widow relationship, Funmi can’t find enough to smile about. Until the appearance of Morenike’s son, Femi (Tobi Bakre). He has returned from school in the city and is intent on forging a non-academic path as a wood carver. He is also perpetually shirtless.
The story that follows, as directed by Jack’enneth Opukeme and Adebayo Tijani, is noirish with an indigenous Nigeria tinge. Set in a South-western Nigerian village in the 1980s, the film features a young man with eyes on a fiery beautiful woman with an axe to grind. That it is taboo for them to have relations of any kind adds to the makings of a murky plot.
From the get-go, the film makes it clear that Odun is a decent man, sweetheart to everyone. When his bride rejects him, his reaction is to have his hair dyed black. She had called him old—not ugly—so, maybe, their marriage can be saved. He does, however, make a mistake in having this hair dying done by Morenike, a somewhat permanent fixture in the house. Funmi’s blood boils.
The issue is understandable: the farmer has married a child. But if he is faulted for this, and deservedly so, why is Femi’s flirtation with the same person only portrayed as adultery borne of passion and romance? He is a predator, no? The film never addresses this double standard.
The performances in Farmer’s Bride are quite impressive. In capturing Funmi’s silent fury, Ejeye is more than a capable actress. Her eyes are forever slanted and her biting remarks escape from gritted teeth. Aigbe’s Morenike is all sweet smiles and bubbles—until Odun is taken from her. And as the idiotic Femi, Bakre is just about adequate. (Nollywood seems certain he can play petulant.)
Efe Irele brings up the rear as Banke, Femi’s girlfriend, a ray of sunshine bursting with energy, but every bit as flawed as her compatriots.
The film’s main problem, however, is predictability. If you know the premise, you know the end. Opukeme, the film’s writer, serves up exactly what is expected. But what we see on the screen is so sufficiently competent that it is easy to forgive the predictable nature of the story. What is lacking is a bit of daring and a credible love story that we can see progressing.
Nonetheless, the film is beautiful, its hair department deserving particular credit for its work on Funmi. And what Tijani and debut director Opukeme have done here makes one look forward to their future work.
