[blockquote align=”centre” author=”EfikoScore: 7/10″ style=”font-size: 30px”] Biodun Stephen’s Breaded Life attempts to combine the intimacy of humanity with realism, and almost pulls it off. [/blockquote]
In Breaded Life, Sunmi (Timini Egbuson) is the overindulged son of a wealthy mother (Tina Mba). He’s up to no good, and this continuously strains the relationship between the both of them. One day, everyone in his life suddenly, mysteriously forgets him—except the bread seller (Bimbo Ademoye). With her help, he now has to navigate life through an unfamiliar path. The movie’s strength doesn’t lie in the story, as the spoilt-child-hitting-the-twilight-zone trope is as old as oral history itself. Its strength lies in the delicate handling of the subject, in a way that makes it refreshingly real when it needs to be, and jarring where it needed to be. The film opens with a hot exchange between a recalcitrant son and his very Nigerian mother.
Carried by the brilliant acting of Timini Egbuson and Tina Mba, and a realistic dialogue provided by writer/director Biodun Stephen, the scene sets the tone for the rest of the movie—drawing in the audience by demanding empathy most of the time while offering humor as a temporary relief. The writing compels the audience to follow the lead character through his phases of rebellion, denial, shock, acceptance, and eventual redemption.
However, the movie’s biggest charm is the bread seller, Todowode (played by Bimbo Ademoye). Starring opposite Timini, Bimbo shines through her role as the upbeat hawker who carries the lead character through the plot as he navigates life in a way he has never done before. There’s an (understandable) awkwardness that greets the first meeting between both characters, but this awkwardness quickly dissipates through the evolution of their relationship. Her improvised Egun accent doesn’t distract the audience from the soulfulness of her character, and her relationship with the other characters is written well enough to not distract the audience from the core of her role.
The minor acts also hold their own weight, delivering a funny, realistic, and sometimes even endearing performance throughout their screen time. Bolanle Ninalowo and Lateef Adedimeji’s performances (as Jobe and Jugunu respectively) are genuine and natural. However, if it isn’t bad enough that the movie relied on the hyperactive gateman stereotype, MC Lively’s performance as Iskila leaves a conspicuous dent as he doesn’t fail to ruin his very limited screen time with his penchant for overacting.
Biodun’s direction is delicate—making all the points she wants to make without being heavy-handed in delivery. A part of the movie that stands out is the smooth transition into the primary conflict of the story without as much fuss. One moment everything is normal and the next moment, the lead character is a stranger to everyone in his life. There’s no clumsy explanation at that point but the audience is too distracted—by a more compelling overarching story—to care. The movie’s questionable pacing in the third act is redeemed by the eventual resolution of the plot: It was all a dream. Even while I recognize this twist as an attempt to give a logical explanation to the conflict, I secretly hoped she didn’t bother with it, as Woody Allen did with Midnight in Paris. I have to remark that Biodun could have done much better with the wobbly titling. The overall theme of the movie is ultimately didactic, but it’s not corny. That’s why it’s such a delight to watch.
Overall, Breaded Life is a genuinely enjoyable film. The writing, directing, and acting did not let down, and one begins to wonder if this has anything to do with the creative independence of writer/producer/director Biodun Stephen. While I think that the redemption of Nollywood ultimately lies with independent filmmakers focused on human interest stories, one also has to think about the prospects of economic rewards for such efforts. For a film released in 2021, it took a Netflix collaboration to get mainstream attention.
