Namaste Wahala

I'd be the first to admit my ignorance of Nigerian cinema, otherwise known as 'Nollywood'. Ever since reading some articles about its fascinating early days in the 1990s, when films were produced on shoestring budgets and retailed on market stalls, I've planned to get around to watching some. Namaste Wahala popping up on my Netflix recommendations a few days ago seemed like a great place to start.

As the title suggests, the film has one foot in India. It stars Ruslaan Mumtaz as an expat Indian, Raj, who falls head-over-heels for Ini Dima-Okojie as Didi, a Nigerian lawyer he bumps into while jogging on the beach. 'Wahala' translates as 'trouble', appropriately enough for our characters. The love story is straight 90s Bollywood, but less exciting; it reminded me of Pardes without the edge-of-your-seat ending. That struck me as a shame, because Richard Mofe-Damijo could clearly deliver more in terms of scary-dad factor as Didi's father Ernest, if the script would only give him a chance.

On top of covering two cultures, the film lapses into two different stories, one of which is markedly more exciting than the other. This leads to an emotional layout which is less of a rollercoaster and more of a see-saw. Didi, when she is not busy receiving dinner-table lectures from Ernest, works for an NGO combatting violence against women. When one of her clients is viciously beaten during an attempted sexual assault and the perpetrator is the son of her father's wealthy business partner, she stands her ground and ends up on the opposite side of the case to daddy dearest. The portrayal of the violence and its aftermath is achingly real, and Didi's resolve to get justice is admirable. These were the parts of the film that made me think "Wow, is this Nollywood?! Where has this been all my life?" Dima-Okojie comes into her own when portraying this strong side of her character, and both her horror and determination are completely believable.

This only serves to make it all the more frustrating that when confronted with Raj's cantankerous and unlikeable mother, Meera, she comes across as utterly defenceless. She can hold her own in a courtroom, but falls apart in front of the insanely rude walking stereotype that birthed her boyfriend. It is quite possible that since Meera talks about nothing except how to feed her son, Didi just can't think of how to appeal to her. Or perhaps she is influenced by her spineless boyfriend, who is steamrollered by his mother at every turn, into treating Meera like a force of nature.

The film does shine in its comedy moments, especially Meera's encounter with a Nigerian taxi driver who is the only character in the film who really gives as good as he gets from her. The musical numbers are a nice nod to Indian films, although they could have done with some input from Mumbai. The title song itself is pleasantly catchy.

All in all, Namaste Wahala is a great idea occasionally let down by somewhat weak characterisation and - I can't believe I'm writing this - an insufficiently dramatic resolution to the family problems. I'm glad I watched it despite these failings, because I think it's a promising start to collaborations between two of the world's most prolific film industries. In the future, we will have great Bnollywood movies, and it will all have started here, with Namaste Wahala.

In the meantime, I'm off to find more Nigerian movies!

Namaste Wahala was released on February 14th and is available to stream now on Netflix.