One of the names behind I Do Not Come to You By Chance, Genevieve Nnaji, should be instantly familiar to some viewers. She is credited as an executive producer on this film, but that’s not the position that brought her fame. For more than a decade, she was (and for some, maybe still is) the face of Nigeria’s film industry, otherwise known as Nollywood.
In recent times, she has turned to production, insisting that her industry, Nollywood, should tell its stories differently. This means that her industry’s stories could travel, if something, presumably something technical, changed. That philosophy led to 2018’s Lionheart, which she directed herself and which was later acquired by Netflix. Before that, she produced Road to Yesterday, which was directed by Ishaya Bako. For I Do Not Come To You By Chance, Bako is again director. The film premiered at Toronto last year and is getting its European premiere at IFFR.
These screenings at celebrated venues prove that Nnaji’s philosophy is paying off. But while her production company’s films are getting better, the philosophy hasn’t yet produced its ultimate exemplar in combining Nollywood/Nigerian stories with the highest global standards.
The new film is set in 1990s’ Nigeria and adapted from Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani’s novel of the same title. It follows the life and times of Kingsley (Paul Nnadiekwe), a young man from a struggling family. Years before the tale begins properly, he witnesses one of his relatives, Boniface, get into trouble with his parents. The matter is heated enough for Boniface to get thrown out of their house.
Kingsley is perhaps a little too young to understand that integrity is at the centre of Boniface’s problem with his parents. But as with most kids, a few years into adulthood some things become clear. The journey to this reckoning — with poverty, with being a first son and, memorably, with Uncle Boniface — becomes the main thread of the modest drama that is Kingsley’s life. You can call it the Miseducation of Kingsley.
As these things go, all the reckoning our hero needs is one catalyzing episode, which duly arrives with his father’s illness. The family has no money for Papa’s treatment. The landlord is lurking, looking for his rent. Sure, there is a car. It can be sold. But it will never be enough. Okay…shh…what about Boniface?
Indeed, what about Boniface? Well, in the years since, Boniface has become a big man, his lifestyle funded by scam mails to potential investors. When Kingsley visits Boniface, he receives a proposal. Boniface wants his young, smart relation to join him in his illicit business. But the young man still has integrity ringing in his ears. The question is, for how long?
There is the socio-economic milieu of 1990s Nigeria to consider. It was a harsh time for the average Nigerian, and Bako and company make an implicit case for this in showing viewers that a smart graduate with good grades can’t get a job, while a con man is making a killing fleecing foreign clientele. There might also be a commentary on racial retribution that is sometimes spoken aloud on social media today: scamming white people is a form of reparation. In the 1990s, that commentary was probably louder because a lot of the hardship visited on Nigeria was brought upon the country by the Structural Adjustment Programme, a policy urged on the government by the International Monetary Fund, an agency created by Western powers.
None of this makes it into the film, thankfully. Instead, Bako (who is credited as co-writer with Chika Anadu) takes us through the young man’s life as he attempts to balance his home training with the need for sustenance. These are high stakes for Kingsley, but Bako works his magic subtly — a little too subtly sometimes. The film needs a kick, and it arrives with the reintroduction of Boniface, who is now properly known as Cash Daddy. In the book, Cash Daddy is the main unforgettable character. He remains so in the film, but he never really becomes larger than life in the same way.
The issue, it appears, is the film’s tone. A bit too keen to establish itself as a serious film with serious themes, I Do Not Come To You By Chance doesn’t quite have the nimbleness to move into the high life when Cash Daddy starts to throw his weight and charisma around. As played by Blossom Chukwujekwu, the man who gave 2023 Nollywood its best leading performance in The Trade, Cash Daddy still shines. But his lustre is bedimmed by the dour atmosphere, a feature this film shares with Lionheart. Thankfully, the chemistry between Cash Daddy and Kingsley abides in the film.
This is particularly clear in one scene featuring a white investor who is being lured into a non-existing deal. The conversation starts coolly but then things go awry when someone speaks off-script. In the tense moments before Kingsley saves the day with extreme cunning and in the moments immediately after, the actors charm the audience with pretty much the same acumen as their characters use to mesmerise their victim. In the future, a buddy comedy with Chukwujewku and Nnadiekwe might be a serviceable pitch.
For now, their work in I Do Not Come will amuse (or be useful) to the millions who have heard of or received scam emails beginning with the infamous words that give this film its title. Readers of the novel might have some misgivings, but not in a way that will cause them to seek a refund.
Director: Ishaya Bako
Screenplay: Chika Anadu, Ishaya Bako
Cast: Paul Nnadiekwe, Blossom Chukwujekwu, Jennifer Eliogu, Norbert YoungProducer: Chioma Onyenwe
Production company: TEN Sales
Cinematography: Femi Awojide
Editor: Eduardo Aquino
Production design: Lucio Seixas
Music: Kulanen Ikyo
In English, Igbo
Venue: Rotterdam
104 minutes
