Who killed Bobo? That’s the question three police officers—Habiba (Eva Ibiam), Etim (Kelechi Udegbe), and Moshood (Yomi Fash-Lanso) —are called to answer when they arrive at the scene of Bobo’s aborted birthday bash in Yemi Filmboy Morafa‘s The Party, series showing on Netflix. From the outset, it’s clear they’ll have their work cut out for them.
As is usual with murder mysteries, everyone has a reason to kill Bobo: the wife he’s cheating on, the friend whose wife he’s sleeping with, people whose secrets he’s in possession of. It’s an orgy of cross-motivations. And yet Bobo, a deftly subtle Kunle Remi, isn’t the sleazy, scheming playboy stories like this tend to centre. He’s a regular guy with appetites familiar to most. But those affected do not see it that way.
Maybe, that’s why Bobo’s death hardly seems to matter to most of the characters. It’s treated more like an irritating disruption than a devastating event. Aside from his mother (a wailing, accusatory Shaffy Bello), there’s little sign of grief, guilt, or even confusion. Anger surfaces, but not in a visceral or immediate way. When characters recall their time with Bobo, they do so with fondness, even smiles, as though weeks, not hours, have passed since his death.
The characters behave exactly as a classic whodunit requires: they lie, twist facts, misrepresent events, and they do so with a distinct Nigerian flavour that’s a joy to watch. But they do it as if they’ve had time to rehearse. No one stutters or stumbles over facts, even if they slip hilariously over language. No one scrambles to destroy evidence, either. These are characters delivering well-polished performances, guided by narrative need than by psychological realism. The investigators are not much different.
Yemi “Filmboy” Morafa’s thriller scores high in many departments but falls short in the central one.
Film Efiko Score: 6/10
From the start, Habiba is framed as the sharpest of the trio. Assisted by Etim and Moshood, her watchful eye catches telling details. While Moshood arrives at conclusions by prejudice and conjures evidence from thin air, Habiba seems to opt for a more reasoned approach. But where’s the procedural sorting and ordering of evidence to fish out oddities? Where is the psychological assessment of testimony to arrive at probabilistic summations of events? Habiba mostly broods, adding atmosphere but little actual deduction. Her methods don’t quite justify Etim’s insistence that she knows what she’s doing. And that’s a problem. The Party skips the required legwork. It tells us a fact has been established without showing how and when. It makes conclusions from key evidence without acknowledging alternative interpretations. Having conditioned us to question shifting versions of past events, it ultimately offers a final account that’s just as flimsy and dismissible.
What then are we to make of this? I’d argue The Party is an anti-mystery. It brings together a murder, a house full of suspects, and a trio of investigators, but seems bent on showing that, without divine intervention, nothing can really be solved. One detective is too busy currying favour with the wealthy. Another is compromised by her past and her blood ties to the AIGP. The last is simply smitten with his colleague.
CCTV cameras actively running in the hallway are highlighted but mostly ignored. The final version of events is so implausible, it’s hard to believe it’s meant to be accepted. Fingerprints on a glass mean little at a party where drinks are passed freely. How did the killer know Bobo well enough to choose that specific weapon? What’s the motive? What do they stand to gain?
And yet everything else about The Party works. The acting is top-tier, with the cast delivering performances of real weight. Cinematography and editing are lush, almost operatic. Save for one scene that awkwardly recreates Basic Instinct’s most infamous moment with high levels of cringe, the filmmakers know what they’re doing.
Filmboy has made a movie that captures the filth, fragility, and moral greyness of human relationships. He has also crafted a satire of the murder mystery: incompetent investigators, inscrutable suspects, and a central event too weird for neat resolution.
But has he done so intentionally? That is the real mystery of The Party.
The Party is now showing on Netflix.
