There are very few Nigerian filmmakers who understand how to tell our stories without over-explaining them. Fewer still trust the audience to sit with silence, ritual, language, and consequence. Kunle Afolayan does. And with Aníkúlápó: The Ghoul Awakens, he once again proves that he is not interested in convenience—only conviction.
This second season of the Aníkúlápó franchise does not arrive as a crowd-pleaser or an easy binge. It arrives as a continuation of a worldview. One where power has consequences, tradition is not decorative, and mythology is not fantasy—it is memory.
From the opening moments, it is clear that The Ghoul Awakens is not trying to recreate the emotional pull of the original film or even resolve the loose ends from the previous series. Instead, it expands the world outward, into a darker, messier place, embracing the idea that this story is no longer about one man’s rise or fall, but about the ripple effects of evil, ambition, and a broken spiritual order.
A Story That Begins With Punishment
The season begins in the afterlife, where Bashorun Ogunjimi finally comes face-to-face with judgment. This choice is important. It immediately centres the season around consequence rather than romance or ambition. Bashorun, desperate to escape punishment for the atrocities he committed while alive, finds a way back to the world of the living—but at a terrible cost. He returns neither fully alive nor fully dead.
He is now a ghoul.
This transformation is not treated as a spectacle. Bashorun survives by feeding on human souls, leaving behind lifeless bodies and spreading fear across the land. He hides in the evil forest, hunted by guards, whispered about by villagers, and slowly becoming a symbol of unchecked hunger.
Palace Joy That Quickly Turns Political
Back in Oyo, the tone shifts briefly. Prince Aderoju returns home to celebration and warmth. His homecoming is filled with drums, honour, and joy, but it doesn’t last. His happiness collapses the moment he realises his sister, Omowunmi, is missing from the palace.
Her absence reopens an old wound.
In the previous season, Omowunmi was married to Kuranga, Prince of the Ede people, who died mysteriously on their wedding night—a death secretly orchestrated by Bashorun. Tradition now demands that she be inherited as a wife by Kuranga’s younger brother, Ashiru. Trapped in Ede and fearful of her fate, Omowunmi becomes the centre of a political and emotional crisis.
Aderoju’s decision to secretly retrieve her and return her to Oyo without their father’s consent is both brave and reckless. It breaks the already fragile peace between the Alaafin of Oyo and Oba Yekini of Ede, turning a personal rescue into a diplomatic rupture. What follows is tension layered with pride, tradition, and the threat of war.
Arolake’s Attempt at Escape
Away from the palace, Akin and Arolake attempt to start over in Ilú Saki. Arolake remains one of the franchise’s most complicated characters—a woman deeply entangled in Saro’s downfall and the destructive power of resurrection. Saved by Akin, she longs for peace and anonymity, hoping distance will finally free her from the cycle of loss and consequence.
But Aníkúlápó does not believe in clean escapes.
Arolake’s story in this season is quieter but emotionally heavy. Her journey is no longer about ambition or desire; it is about survival and repair. And yet, fate intervenes once again, delivering another painful blow just as she begins to rebuild.
Bashorun Ogunjimi: A Fitting Centrepiece
Bashorun Ogunjimi, played with chilling restraint by Owobo Ogunde, sits at the heart of this season. The son of legendary theatre icon Hubert Ogunde, Owobo brings a natural authority and menace to the role. His Bashorun is not flamboyant; he is efficient, brutal, and terrifying in his certainty.
Though he appears only a handful of times across the five episodes, his presence lingers. Every disappearance, every whisper, every rising fear points back to him. He is the ghoul, but also a metaphor—for greed, for power that refuses to die, for evil that adapts rather than disappears.
Shifting From Myth to History
A major turning point arrives with the appearance of European ships, signalling the slow transition from pure mythology to historical reckoning. This moment subtly but firmly shifts the series’ direction, introducing the early shadows of colonial influence and expanding the narrative beyond internal power struggles.
Geographically, the series also moves beyond the Oyo Empire, travelling to Cape Coast in present-day Ghana. This expansion strengthens the show’s portrayal of West Africa as interconnected—politically, culturally, and historically.
Too Many Stories, or a World Being Built?
One of the most talked-about aspects of The Ghoul Awakens is its multiplicity of subplots. There is Aderoju’s political struggle and forbidden love with Asake. Bashorun’s monstrous survival. Akin and Arolake’s fragile peace. Awarun and her daughter’s involvement in the slave trade. The palace intrigues. The growing fear among villagers. The looming arrival of foreign ships.
At times, these stories compete rather than complement one another. Some arcs struggle to shine fully, while others feel abruptly interrupted. The pacing can feel heavy, and emotional investment occasionally suffers under the weight of constant movement.
However, it is also clear that this multiplicity is intentional.
Aníkúlápó is no longer telling a closed story. It is positioning itself as a long-running franchise—one that values continuity, suspense, and expansion over neat resolution. While the subplots could benefit from tighter concatenation, they also create a sense of a living, unstable world where many things are happening at once, often beyond anyone’s control.
Strengths, Flaws, and Final Thoughts
Visually, The Ghoul Awakens remains stunning. The costumes, set design, and cinematography continue to celebrate Yoruba culture with care and intention. Performances are largely strong, grounded by experienced actors who bring gravitas to the material. The debut of Abike Dabiri-Erewa as the Iyalode is a pleasant surprise, adding weight to the palace scenes.
The season’s biggest weakness lies in its density. The story is rich but occasionally stretched, its ideas sometimes competing rather than converging. Yet even in its flaws, the series remains bold.
Aníkúlápó: The Ghoul Awakens is not an easy watch—but it is a purposeful one. It is a reminder that our stories do not need to be simplified to be powerful, and that mythology, when handled with respect, can hold history, warning, and beauty all at once.
Kunle Afolayan is not just telling a story here. He is building a world, one that is still unfolding, still unstable, and very much alive.
