Introduction: The Tsunami of Tears and Tropes
Nigerian cinema has never shied away from high-stakes drama, and I GET TO LOVE YOU (IGTLY) arrives like a sleek, expensive sports car speeding through a dusty village road—a perfect metaphor for the film itself. This isn't just a romance; it's a profound, often uncomfortable confrontation between socioeconomic classes, traditional expectations, and the ruthless pursuit of self-actualization.
Directed with a keen eye for visual poetry but often shackled by an overly ambitious script, IGTLY positions itself as an epic tale of forbidden love between Tiwa, a brilliant but struggling village musician, and Dr. Afam, a successful, emotionally guarded Lagos elite. The core conflict is simple: Tiwa is driven by sacrifice and duty; Afam is driven by unfulfilled emptiness, despite his wealth. Their inevitable clash creates sparks, but the resulting fire burns down the moral high ground, leaving viewers wrestling with ethical ambiguities that the film only half-heartedly attempts to resolve.
This review will dissect the film’s narrative structure, its polarizing central characters, the effectiveness of its dramatic elements, and whether its final, tear-soaked conclusion truly earns the forgiveness it demands from its audience.
Part I: The Narrative Engine—Structure and Pacing
The Setup: Duty and the Rural-Urban Divide (Pacing: Effective)
The film excels in its opening act, expertly establishing the chasm between Ilaro and Lagos. Tiwa’s world is rendered in warm, earthen tones, dominated by filial duty—her musical dreams on hold to care for her ailing father. This setup is crucial: it legitimizes her need to seek fortune in Lagos, rather than painting her as merely ambitious. The village scenes, though brief, possess a necessary grounding that contrasts sharply with the clinical opulence of Lagos later on.
The rising action begins when Tiwa secures a housemaid position—coincidentally, in Dr. Afam’s household. The initial interactions are tense, defined by their power imbalance. The narrative wisely spends time building the slow, quiet intimacy, starting not with passion, but with mutual appreciation for Tiwa’s music. This deliberate, slow-burn approach makes the eventual romantic entanglement feel earned, not manufactured.
The Midpoint: Log Off, Love On (Pacing: Dragging)
This is where the narrative begins to stumble. The film spends too much time on the clandestine meetings and emotionally fraught glances, drawing out the inevitable exposure of Dr. Afam's primary relationship with Chama. While the tension is palpable, the decision to finally leave Chama—the "log-off" scene—feels abrupt. For a character defined by emotional paralysis, Afam's sudden, definitive decision to choose Tiwa lacks the complex internal struggle required. We needed to see the weight of his years with Chama, not just the lightness of his new love.
The Climax: Betrayal and the Cliché Collapse (Pacing: Rushed)
The climax is a classic Nollywood crescendo: the public exposure of the affair at a high-society event orchestrated by a scorned third party. The scene is visually stunning, bathed in dramatic lighting and rapid cuts, but narratively, it’s thin. The film doesn't capitalize on the dramatic irony established earlier. We, the audience, were always aware of Chama's existence, but the film missed the chance to explore the subtle moments where Tiwa might have dismissed hints, or where Afam almost confessed. Instead, it relies on shock and spectacle, minimizing the emotional complexity of the core betrayal.
Part II: Character, Performance, and Chemistry
Tiwa: The Artist, The Daughter, The Lover
The film’s central pillar is Tiwa. As a character, she represents the modern Nigerian woman caught between two worlds: the traditional world demanding sacrifice and the modern world encouraging personal dreams. Her arc—from dutiful daughter to self-actualized artist—is powerful. The narrative successfully charts her evolution, showing her passion for music as the constant, independent of her relationship with Afam.
However, the moral ambiguity of her actions is never fully addressed. Does her love for Afam justify the deception of Chama, who was arguably a victim of Afam's emotional cowardice? The film sidesteps this, using Tiwa's sincerity as a shield. The performance is commendable, capturing both the naivete of Ilaro and the fierce independence of a woman claiming her space in Lagos.
Dr. Afam: Wealth, Withdrawal, and Justification
Dr. Afam is arguably the most problematic character. He embodies the trope of the emotionally unavailable, wealthy man trapped in a respectable, but passionless, relationship with the equally formidable Chama. His actions—hiding Tiwa, his sudden impulse purchases (like the bar for Tiwa), and his general emotional withdrawal—are consistent with a man who views his life as transactional.
The film attempts to justify his actions by framing his relationship with Chama as one of convenience, not love. But the audience never fully buys into this, making him appear simply weak and dishonest. The strength of his performance lies in portraying the exhaustion of maintaining a façade, but it never fully conveys the depth of remorse required to forgive his central betrayal.
Chama and the Uneasy Resolution
Chama, Afam's long-time partner, is the true emotional anchor. She is portrayed initially as the intimidating, possessive rival, only to be revealed as a tragic figure who knew the score long before the climax. The final act reveals her terminal illness and the knowledge of the affair, using this as a platform for her ultimate, saintly forgiveness and grand gesture.
This is the narrative's biggest misstep. The resolution is unearned and overly convenient. By giving Chama a terminal illness and making her grant forgiveness, the film avoids the much harder, more powerful reality: the consequences of unforgiven betrayal. It transforms a complex moral drama into a manipulative tearjerker, ensuring Tiwa and Afam's "happy ending" at the cost of genuine emotional truth. It minimizes the depth of the betrayal by making the victim a literal martyr.
Part III: Thematic Depth and Socioeconomic Commentary
Sacrifice, Self-Actualization, and the Lagos Dream
The film’s most resonant theme is the battle between sacrifice and self-actualization. Tiwa's initial sacrifice (putting off music for family duty) is positioned as noble, while her choice to pursue love and a music career in Lagos represents self-actualization. The film implicitly critiques the culture of endless filial sacrifice, suggesting that true honour lies in individual success. This is a powerful, modern message for a Nigerian audience.
The Class Divide as a Character
IGTLY uses the Rural-Urban Divide not just as a setting, but as a driving force. The contrast between Ilaro’s simplicity and Lagos’s imposing, glass-and-steel modernity is stark. Tiwa’s initial awe and vulnerability in Lagos are directly linked to her socioeconomic background. Dr. Afam's ability to 'solve' problems with money—be it setting up Tiwa's recording studio or attempting to buy off the drama—is a sharp commentary on the power of unchecked wealth and privilege in Nigerian society. The film hints that their romance isn't just forbidden by social norms, but by the very real barrier of class.
Moral Ambiguity: The Uncomfortable Truth
The film never truly settles the moral score. It wants us to cheer for the forbidden romance because the protagonists are attractive and sincere. But in doing so, it glosses over the fundamental dishonesty at its core. The film minimizes the pain inflicted on Chama until the final, melodramatic reveal of her illness. A truly deep critical work would have allowed the audience to experience the consequence of betrayal, not simply bypass it with a deus ex machina of terminal forgiveness.
Part IV: Cinematic and Technical Excellence
The Art of Contrast: Cinematography
Visually, IGTLY is stunning. The cinematography is arguably the strongest element. It brilliantly captures the contrast between the saturated, chaotic energy of the Lagos streets and the sterile, muted colours of the wealthy interiors. The use of depth of field in intimate moments between Tiwa and Afam successfully isolates them from the outside world, reinforcing the sense of their "secret bubble."
Sound Design and Tiwa’s Music
Tiwa's music is integral to the narrative, and the sound design supports this flawlessly. Her songs, used as motif throughout the film, act as a character in themselves, providing emotional insight where the dialogue might falter. The quality of the musical recordings and their strategic placement elevate the film from a standard drama to a semi-musical romance. The only minor criticism is the occasional overuse of swelling orchestral music during the peak dramatic moments, a common Nollywood trope that sometimes feels excessive.
Conclusion: Love, Loyalty, and the Cost of a Happy Ending
I GET TO LOVE YOU is a movie that demands viewing and discussion. It’s technically polished, boasting strong lead performances and a crucial thematic exploration of sacrifice vs. personal ambition that resonates deeply with modern audiences.
However, its narrative courage falters in the third act. By deploying the trope of the dying martyr, Chama, the film cheats its way out of facing the true, painful fallout of its characters' actions, delivering a saccharine conclusion instead of a hard-earned one.
Despite this final narrative compromise, the film remains a compelling, emotionally charged spectacle and a powerful piece of contemporary Nigerian cinema. If you enjoy high-stakes romance interwoven with rich social commentary, clear your schedule.
Call-to-Watch: Go see I GET TO LOVE YOU and be prepared to talk about it for weeks—not just for the romance, but for the moral questions the film refuses to answer, and the spectacular visuals it uses to distract you from that refusal.
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