Movie Review: The Black Book

Nollywood’s evolution has been marked by an obsession with grand ambitions while consistently overlooking fundamental details. This misplaced focus creates a paradoxical effect: the industry’s reach for cinematic spectacle often falls short precisely because it neglects the foundational elements that would make those ambitions believable. The Black Book, directed by Editi Effiong, exemplifies this persistent problem — a film with lofty aspirations undermined by its own inattention to detail.

On paper, The Black Book presents itself as a sophisticated political thriller centered on revenge — a Nigerian answer to Hollywood’s conspiracy-laden action dramas. The film aspires to weave complex narratives about corruption, justice, and redemption against the backdrop of Nigeria’s sociopolitical landscape. Its ambitions are admirable, but the execution reveals Nollywood’s recurring struggle to bridge the gap between concept and credibility.

The film’s narrative attempts to position itself as a high-stakes thriller where a former agent (played by Richard Mofe-Damijo) emerges from retirement to seek justice for his son. Yet what could have been a taut, suspenseful journey instead becomes bogged down by inconsistencies that continually pull viewers out of the experience.

Perhaps most telling is the film’s setting in July 2020 — explicitly established by a wall tally marking underwater breath-holding exercises — at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. Yet remarkably, not a single face mask appears throughout the film, neither on main characters nor in crowded street scenes. This glaring anachronism immediately signals a casualness toward period authenticity that undermines the film’s credibility.

Other oversights accumulate rapidly: a Commissioner of Police addresses a subordinate officer by a name different from what’s displayed on his uniform badge — and inexplicably, the officer responds to this incorrect name without hesitation. Such carelessness might be forgivable as isolated incidents, but The Black Book presents these errors as the rule rather than the exception.

The film further suffers from uneven performances that often feel like acting rather than being. The scenes featuring microphone-wielding journalists exemplify this issue — characters delivering lines with the stiff, rehearsed quality of a drama school exercise rather than the natural urgency of media professionals in the field. Similarly, Patrick Doyle’s politician character veers into cringe-worthy overacting, undermining potentially important scenes with melodramatic excess.

Richard Mofe-Damijo deserves credit for bringing gravitas to his role as the protagonist. His performance stands out amid the uneven cast, though even his considerable talents cannot fully sell his character’s designation as “the most dangerous man in the country” — a claim that feels more like hyperbole than established fact within the film’s universe.

The Black Book represents a recurring pattern in Nollywood’s evolution: films that prioritize ambitious scope over meticulous execution. The industry continues to demonstrate its ability to conceptualize complex narratives but falls short in the painstaking attention to detail that would elevate these stories from merely ambitious to genuinely impressive.

The film’s grand efforts — its action sequences, cinematography, and attempts at political commentary — while noteworthy in the context of Nigerian cinema, ultimately fail to coalesce into a compelling whole. These elements remain impressive only as isolated achievements rather than as components of a cohesive, believable world.

The Black Book talks a big game but delivers a performance that, while showing flashes of Nollywood’s potential, ultimately reinforces concerns about the industry’s development priorities. Until filmmakers recognize that cinematic excellence emerges from the accumulation of small details rather than the pursuit of grand spectacle alone, films like The Black Book will continue to fall short of their aspirations.

For its ambition and occasional moments of quality amid persistent oversights, The Black Book, ironically, is not quite one for the books. 5.5/10