“Freedom Way,” the feature debut from Nigerian filmmaker Afolabi Olalekan, from a script penned by Blessing Uzzi, who also produces, is making its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival in the Discovery section. It’s a multifaceted exploration of corruption and socioeconomic challenges in contemporary Lagos. The film intertwines several storylines centered around a rideshare app startup called Easy Go and its ripple effects on various characters across social strata.
Central to the narrative are Themba (Jesse Suntele), and Tayo (Jable Ogranya), creators of “Easy Go,” a ridesharing application designed for Lagos’ motorcyclists. This promising start-up, buoyed by initial investments and government assurances, soon becomes a lifeline for Abiola (Adebowale Adebayo), a motorcyclist with a wife and daughter to support, whose already stretched livelihood is upended by a sudden ban on commercial motorcycles. This plot twist not only strips Abiola of his income but also exposes the hollow assurances given to the nation’s youth, portraying them as mere political pawns.
At its core, “Freedom Way” examines the pervasive nature of corruption in Nigerian society, particularly focusing on police misconduct. The film depicts routine extortion, arbitrary arrests, and abuse of power as commonplace occurrences that citizens must contend with daily. This is vividly illustrated in an early traffic stop scene where police officers, led by the corrupt Ajayi (Femi Jacobs), harass startup founders Themba and Tayo, and their lawyer colleague Eddie (Mike Afolarin), demanding bribes and casually threatening violence.
Each scene in “Freedom Way” paints a picture of a generation caught in the relentless pursuit of stability and prosperity. From the young professionals to the struggling motorcyclist, each character’s path subtly intersects. Writer Uzzi and director Olalekan further complicate an already ambitious narrative by introducing an even larger cast and additional subplots, creating a sprawling patchwork of Lagos life. This Altman-esque approach to storytelling, while aspiring in scope, sometimes struggles under its own weight, diluting the impact of the central narratives.
Characters like Temi (Teniola Aladese), her husband Dr. Chetta (Taye Arimoro), her father Mr. Adewale (Akin Lewis), and others in the periphery, are introduced alongside the main storylines, while also intersecting with them, creating a web of relationships that at times feel unnecessary and overcomplicated, especially for a story that unfolds over the course of two or three days, and within the film’s scant 80-minute runtime (minus credits).
Structurally, “Freedom Way” is divided into chapters referencing the Lord’s Prayer (like “Give Us Our Daily Bread” and “Deliver Us From Evil”), hinting at deeper thematic intentions, exploring forgiveness, deliverance, and faith in the face of societal ills. While intriguing, this framing device doesn’t fully realize its potential in connecting to the narrative’s core elements, sometimes feeling more like an interesting concept than a fully integrated idea.
Yet, despite these disconnects, the film’s visual aesthetic bridges the gap as its crowning achievement. Olalekan and his cinematographers, Kabelo Thathe and Muhammed Attah, craft a visual language that captures Lagos’ vibrant energy and complex social landscape with authenticity.
The team employs a warm color palette dominated by earthy tones and naturalistic lighting, often relying on practical sources, as a choice that grounds the story in a tangible, lived-in reality.
The film’s framing and composition demonstrate an understanding of visual storytelling. Wide shots establish the bustling urban environment, while medium and close-up shots intimate each character’s interior world. Additionally, the camera work mirrors the kinetic energy of Lagos life, with both static and dynamic shots creating a sense of immediacy and involvement.
Linguistically, “Freedom Way” reflects the diverse language landscape of Nigeria, mixing English, Pidgin English, and Yoruba, with dialogue often switching between languages, sometimes within the same conversation, if not the same sentence.
While Olalekan’s directorial style favors a grounded, realistic approach that aligns with the film’s themes, the pacing can be uneven. Subplots feel underdeveloped while others drag, and there’s a sense that a more focused edit could have resulted in a tighter, more impactful narrative without sacrificing the film’s ambitions.
Furthermore, the performances in “Freedom Way” are uneven which occasionally detracts from its emotional resonance, particularly in crucial dramatic moments.
Despite these shortcomings, “Freedom Way” stands out in the context of contemporary Nigerian cinema, presenting a distinctly Nigerian perspective on universal themes like corruption, aspiration, and socioeconomic struggle, with a visual flair that elevates it above many of its peers. The film doesn’t shy away from depicting the messy realities of life in Lagos, including the constant hustle for survival and the temptation to participate in corruption for personal gain.
Some scenes, like Eddie rushing to save his passport during a building fire, hint at deeper symbolic meanings about the desire to escape difficult circumstances. These moments, along with conversations between characters about the differences between Nigeria and South Africa, add layers to the film’s explorations, even if they’re not always fully realized.
Finally, the film’s depiction of bureaucratic absurdity and systemic corruption prompts Kafka-esque comparisons. This is particularly evident in scenes like the hospital sequence, where, despite a life-threatening emergency, treatment is denied because of the absence of an official police report. The circular logic of needing a report to receive care, yet being unable to obtain one, mirrors the kind of frustrating and seemingly nonsensical bureaucratic obstacles often found in Kafka’s works.
Additionally, portraits of characters trapped in a system they can’t fully comprehend or escape, and the sense of powerlessness in the face of corrupt institutions all contribute to this Kafka-esque atmosphere. However, if Olalekan and Uzzi were inspired (the film’s press kit and director’s statement do not state this), they do not fully commit to the style throughout, resulting in more of a Kafka-inspired tone rather than a full embrace of Kafka-esque absurdism.
As a debut feature, “Freedom Way” advertises Olalekan’s potential as a filmmaker, and Uzzi’s as a writer, both willing to tackle difficult subjects with authenticity and a compelling visual touch. The cinematography from Kabelo Thathe and Muhammed Attah is not merely a backdrop but an integral part of the storytelling, contributing to the film’s thematic depth and emotional resonance. While it may not fully realize all of its ambitions, the film’s aspirations and flair indicate that this is a group of artists to watch.