By Kikelomo ONIGBANJO
There is a reason some viewers insist that there is “no good review” of Kunle Afolayan’s Aníkúlápó: The Ghoul Awakens. It is not because the series lacks material to discuss. On the contrary, it is bursting with ideas, themes, visuals, and cultural intent. The challenge is that the series itself feels like a collection of strong intentions struggling to find narrative cohesion.
Kunle Afolayan’s Aníkúlápó film was mythic, poetic, and spiritually grounded. It knew what story it wanted to tell and wrapped it in Yoruba cosmology, Ifá philosophy, and lyrical storytelling. The Ghoul Awakens, however, feels like a season still searching for its narrative center.
From the very first scene, something feels off.
In Season 1, when the theme of reincarnation was introduced, it was supported by Ifá panegyrics that grounded the supernatural in Yoruba spirituality. The chants, the rhythm, the oral tradition—they did not just decorate the scene; they explained it. They carried cultural and metaphysical weight. By contrast, the opening of The Ghoul Awakens offers viewers little more than obvious CGI spectacle. It neither orients the audience nor establishes emotional or spiritual stakes. It simply exists, visually loud but narratively empty.
And that emptiness becomes a pattern.
The CGI and VFX are difficult to ignore, but not for the right reasons. The effects are so pronounced that they disrupt immersion. In folklore storytelling, the supernatural must feel organic, mysterious, and almost believable. Here, the overworked effects feel artificial. Instead of drawing viewers into the myth, they constantly remind us that we are watching an effect being performed. Being subtle would have served this story far better.
Ironically, where the VFX department falters, the makeup department excels. The prosthetics, aging effects, injuries, and physical transformations are among the most convincing elements of the series. The makeup sells the world more effectively than the CGI ever does. It is one of the production’s technical high points.
Language, however, becomes one of its most distracting weaknesses.
Saga Adeolu of the Big Brother Naija fame’s Yoruba has been widely described as “Lekki Yoruba,” and the description is painfully accurate. And it’s not just Saga Adeolu alone. Kiekie, Teni Aladese, Eyiyemi Afolayan, Abike Dabiri, and even Tayo Faniran are guilty of this, too. Their intonation, pronunciation, and cadence do not belong to ancient Oyo. For a series so deeply rooted in Yoruba history and culture, this is not a minor issue. Yoruba here is not merely a communication tool—it is a time marker. When spoken incorrectly, it breaks the illusion of the era. The inconsistency in intonation across characters only deepens this problem, making the world feel less authentic than it should.
Performance quality varies widely. Owobo Ogunde, who was compelling in earlier portrayals, feels underutilized this season. His acting appears subdued, not because of a lack of skill, but because the script gives him very little to work with. His presence feels wasted in scenes that are disjointed and emotionally thin.
Saga Adeolu’s performance is more troubling. Beyond the language issue, his character’s motivations are often unclear, and his decisions frequently feel illogical rather than tragic or conflicted. Why did he decide on a whim to enter the forest to hunt alone? He met a strange woman in the forest and fell in love with her, leaving me exclaiming, “What in the name of sisi oni garawa is going on?” because his actions seem poorly justified by the story. Instead of evoking sympathy or tension, the character often comes across as simply foolish.
Abike Dabiri’s performance struggles to meet the emotional demands of her role. In a story that depends heavily on emotional conviction, weak delivery becomes all the more noticeable. The audience is expected to feel deeply, but the performances do not always carry that weight.
Then there is the romance between Akin and Arolake, which should be the emotional anchor of the series. Their love story still feels like it is in its infancy, yet the narrative treats it as something epic and established. Viewers are left wondering: Is this how people fell in love in ancient Oyo? The progression feels rushed, underdeveloped, and unconvincing. Arolake’s storyline becomes predictable, following a path the audience can see from afar.
Plot logic is another recurring issue.
Yoruba hunters traditionally do not hunt alone, yet a character is allowed to do so without explanation. What exactly is the relationship between Aderoju and the hunters? This is never properly established. Omowunmi’s transformation from a spoiled princess to a slave lacks narrative grounding, leaving viewers confused about how such a drastic shift could occur. These are not minor gaps; they are foundational storytelling questions that remain unanswered.
Scenes often feel disjointed and empty, as though they exist without a clear purpose. Moments happen, but they do not always connect meaningfully to what comes before or after. The result is a story that feels scattered, like multiple subplots competing for attention without a unifying thread.
Yet, for all its narrative confusion, The Ghoul Awakens achieves something profoundly important in its depiction of slavery.
One of the most powerful aspects of the series is how it confronts the horrors of slavery from the perspective of Africans themselves. It does not rely on a Western gaze. Instead, it shows complicity, cruelty, betrayal, and moral decay from within African societies. These moments are haunting, sobering, and thematically rich. Here, the storytelling finds clarity and purpose. These scenes carry the emotional and historical weight that the rest of the series struggles to maintain.
You can see glimpses of brilliance buried within the chaos. A typical example is the character of Abena. I think she is a fantastic actress.
The cultural ambition is undeniable. The production design is rich. The makeup work is exceptional. The themes are important. But the storytelling lacks the discipline to hold these elements together.
By the end of the season, it becomes clear that many plot threads remain unresolved. There is a strong sense that the writers are deliberately stretching the story across seasons, perhaps banking on Season 3 to tie together the numerous loose ends left dangling here. And there are many.
Right now, Aníkúlápó: The Ghoul Awakens feels less like a complete chapter and more like a long, uneven bridge between two stronger stories. It is ambitious but unfocused, visually bold but narratively scattered, culturally rich but linguistically inconsistent.
You finish the season not with satisfaction, but with the feeling that you are still waiting for the story to properly begin.
And perhaps that is the greatest frustration of all: this is a series that clearly has the ingredients for greatness, but not yet the narrative discipline to achieve it.
Maybe Season 3 will finally bring the cohesion this story desperately needs.
4 stars.
