Kunle Afolayan’s Anikulapo (2022) is not merely a period epic set in 17th-century Oyo; it is a profound meditation on ambition, consequence, and the existential weight of immortality. The title, which translates to “Death is not a joke” or “He who has death in his pouch,” ironically frames the protagonist’s journey. Saro, a struggling traveling weaver, is given the magical Akoko bird—a power to bring the dead back to life. Yet, the film argues that resurrection without wisdom is a curse, not a blessing.

At its core, Anikulapo deconstructs the classic “rags to riches” trope. Saro begins as a sympathetic underdog, fleeing his indebted past. However, once he acquires the power of life, his moral compass corrodes. He transforms from a humble craftsman into a greedy, power-drunk charlatan, resurrecting only the wealthy for material gain. Afolayan cleverly uses Yoruba cosmology not as mere spectacle but as a moral mirror. Saro’s ability to defy death makes him hubristic, yet he cannot heal the emotional death within his marriage to Arolake. The film’s tragic twist is poignant: his final, selfish resurrection of the Oyo King’s son is an act of ego, leading directly to his own downfall.

Visually, Afolayan grounds the supernatural in gritty realism. The dusty landscapes, handwoven textiles, and stark violence of the era contrast with the ethereal Akoko bird. This aesthetic choice reminds viewers that magic, in Yoruba folklore, is never separate from earthly responsibility. The film also critiques patriarchy and silence: Arolake, who sacrificed everything for Saro, is repeatedly ignored. Her ultimate revenge—abandoning him to a permanent, loveless death—is the film’s most powerful statement. Immortality means nothing without love or honor.

In conclusion, Anikulapo succeeds as a cautionary fable. It warns that some gifts are traps, and that trying to control life and death leads only to moral decay. Saro does not die from a sword but from isolation—a fate worse than mortality. Afolayan reminds us that to be truly alive is to accept limits, to value loyalty over power, and to understand that death, indeed, is not a joke. If you intended a different film called Anikor (perhaps a student film, a short, or a work from another country), please share the director’s name or a brief plot summary, and I will write a new essay tailored to that specific work.