Lísàbí – A Legend is Born: A Movie Review and Recap

I had previously reviewed Lísàbí – The Uprising last year, holding back some of my thoughts because the producers had promised a sequel.

My hope was that part two would correct many of the historical inaccuracies and misleading portrayals from the first movie. Unfortunately, I was wrong.

Before I dive in, let me make one thing clear: reviewing this movie doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the immense effort that went into its production. I do.

I acknowledge the giant strides Nollywood Yorùbá has made, and Lísàbí is a testament to those improvements in many technical aspects.

However, historical movies like Lísàbí have a higher calling. They aren’t just for entertainment—they serve as a medium to preserve and share our heritage, telling the world about our history and culture.

When a movie distorts history, especially one as significant as that of the Ẹ̀gbá Patriarchy and a revered legend like Lísàbí, it does more harm than good. It would have been better not to produce the movie at all than to get it this wrong.

Let’s start with the positives. The cinematography is outstanding—easily one of the best I’ve seen in Nollywood.

The action scenes are thrilling, the sound effects are top-notch, and the stunts and fight choreography are impeccable.

The actors performed with grace and intensity, embodying their characters so deeply that I could almost forget who they are in real life.

But that’s where the good ends.

The movie opens with Bàbá Àgbà Osólànkẹ́, played by the legendary Adébáyọ̀ Salami, narrating a mythological tale about the son of Òdùduwà, Ọ̀kànbí and his seven children, including Iyùnadé, said to be the mother of the Òwu people.

This introduction is riddled with historical inconsistencies. Was Iyùnadé truly the progenitor of the Òwu people or simply married to an Òwu king?

And what about the ancestry of this Òwu king?

How does this connect to the history of the Ẹ̀gbá people?

It’s critical to note that the Ẹ̀gbá people and the Òwu people are not the same, yet the movie blurs this distinction.

The Old Ọ̀yọ́ Empire dominated Ẹ̀gbá territories due to its military prowess, not because Iyùnadé asked the descendants of Òdùduwà to contribute to Ọ̀rànmíyàn, as the movie suggests. This portrayal is not just wrong but also deeply misleading.

Additionally, not all Yorùbás are descendants of Òdùduwà, as the movie tries to imply. Many trace their lineage to other great patriarchs like Ọbàtálá and Ọ̀ranfẹ̀.

Historically, the Ẹ̀gbás rose against and killed the Ìlàrís due to their oppressive conduct. But the movie portrays the revolt as a catalyst for vengeance from the Ọlọ́yọ́, who supposedly sent an army in retaliation. This never happened in history, the Ọlọ́yọ́ didn’t retaliate.

Another glaring issue is the lack of distinction between the Ìlàrís and warriors. While some Ìlàrís were trained to fight, they were not the primary military force of Ọ̀yọ́. The Ọ̀yọ́ Empire had a structured military led by the Baṣọ̀run and the Ààrẹ Ọ̀nà Kakanfò. Ignoring this complexity oversimplifies the sophisticated military hierarchy of the time.

As I mentioned in my first review, the movie focuses excessively on spiritual powers, neglecting the strategic and military brilliance of our ancestors. In reality, the Yorùbá military system was organized, with roles like the Kakanfò (Generalissimo), Ọ̀tún Kakanfò (Commander of the Right Wing), Òsì Kakanfò (Commander of the Left Wing), and Balóguns (Warlords).

The brave Ẹ̀ṣó Ìkòyí warriors, famously known for their fearlessness, were also a key part of the Ọ̀yọ́ Military structure. Àwon Ẹ̀ṣó Ìkòyí tí wọn ò gbọdọ́ fi ẹ̀yìn gba ọfà.

One of the most troubling scenes is when the Ọlọ́yọ́, played by Ọ̀dúnladé Adékọ́lá, is summoned to view the corpses of the Ìlàrís killed by the Ẹ̀gbás. In Yorùbá culture, kings are forbidden from seeing corpses. This oversight is a significant cultural blunder.

The dialects spoken in the movie also leave much to be desired. Aside from Lísàbí acted by Lateef Adedimeji, Akinolú acted by Kọ́láwọlé Ajéyẹmí, and the Ẹ̀gbá Chief acted by Káyọ̀dé Akíndínà Paragon, the rest of the cast struggled to speak the Ẹ̀gbá dialect convincingly.

Béjídé acted by Olúmídé Oworu couldn’t even manage a standard Lagos Yorùbá accent, let alone the Ẹ̀gbá dialect. For a historical movie, this is unacceptable.

Then there are the anachronisms. Lísàbí’s mother, played by Bímbọ́ Akíntọ́lá, is shown with fixed nails—something unheard of in the 18th century. Baby Lísàbí is seen in modern diapers. These details might seem minor, but they ruin the historical immersion.

The use of tribal marks was inconsistent and inaccurate. Tribal marks were a significant means of identification in those days. Yet, the movie carelessly gives Lísàbí’s mother Ọ̀yọ́ tribal marks and has Kelvin Ikeduba wear barely visible, inconsistent Ọ̀yọ́ tribal marks.

Lastly, the movie fails to tell a cohesive story. While it mentions that there are multiple accounts of how Lísàbí died, it glosses over the most widely accepted historical version: that the Ẹ̀gbá nobles conspired to kill him in his old age due to dissatisfaction with his leadership. At least it was agreed that Lísàbí lived longer, he grew old and didn’t die almost immediately after the uprising as the movie portrays

In conclusion, I keep asking myself what was the purpose of this sequel?

It neither preserves Lísàbí’s history nor offers compelling fiction. The storyline is weak, riddled with inaccuracies, and full of unnecessary scenes.

I agree with those who feel this sequel was unnecessary.

I’m rating Lísàbí – A Legend is Born 3/10.

Let fiction be fiction, but let history be preserved.

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