The highly anticipated Nollywood drama, "I GAVE YOU MY ALL" (2025), is less a film and more a 1000-degree morality test, forcing audiences to reckon with wealth, desperation, and the ruthless commodification of motherhood. Director Tunde Oshodi delivers a spectacle that is both intensely captivating and profoundly frustrating, showcasing stellar performances while ultimately struggling to balance grounded ethical critique with its need for seismic, plot-twisting melodrama. This is a film that demands your attention, but perhaps not for the reasons it thinks.
1. The Whiplash of the Melodrama: Pacing and Narrative Flaws
The narrative arc of "I GAVE YOU MY ALL" establishes the stakes with deliberate, almost painful slowness, only to accelerate into chaos in the second act. The film opens by meticulously detailing the emotional agony of Brenda, played with terrifying intensity by Amaka Nneka, as she suffers through multiple miscarriages and the crushing grief of infertility. This initial setup is effective, using measured pacing to root the viewer in her pain and husband Chris’s (Daniel Kalu) sympathetic attempts to cope.
The Problematic Pacing of Trauma
The primary structural issue emerges when the solution—surrogacy—is introduced. The prolonged tragedy of the setup is instantly juxtaposed with the rushed, almost transactional recruitment of Indidi, a young, desperately poor woman. This shift feels less like a natural progression and more like a necessary plot launch. The narrative then attempts to bridge the emotional distance with the "Days have turned to months" musical montage. While visually appealing, this sequence feels like a placeholder for necessary dramatic exposition. It skips the crucial, quiet moments where Brenda’s desperation curdles into contempt for Indidi, leaving her transition into the villain unearned and abrupt.
The triggering event for the ensuing conflict is the negotiation itself. Chris and Brenda initially propose an expensive medical surrogacy, but the shift to a forced, traditional surrogacy—justified by a casual, shocking mention of "2 million naira" being saved by cutting corners—is the film’s first significant misstep. While meant to establish the couple’s cold, calculated exploitation, the justification feels like an artificial dramatic trigger, relying on contrived plot mechanics rather than organic emotional deterioration to kickstart the central ethical war. The film effectively uses dramatic irony, but this irony is only effective because the audience instantly sees the moral chasm the characters are ignoring.
2. The Tragedy of Wealth: Character and Performance
The performances are the engine of this drama, yet the characters are frequently constrained by the script's need for high-stakes moral polarization. The review must address whether Brenda is a product of her pain or an embodiment of innate malice, and how Chris navigates his moral responsibility.
Brenda's Villain Arc: Malice or Misery?
Brenda’s character development is the film’s most explosive element. Her actions—from the moment Indidi agrees to the surrogacy—are steeped in contempt. The script is explicit in its portrayal of her classist arrogance. She immediately uses sharp, dismissive language, muttering about "Greedy ass people" and coldly reminding Chris, "She's here to work." This is not merely the pain of infertility; this is the ruthless condescension of the privileged regarding the poor. This consistent use of classist language ensures that Brenda’s arc is fundamentally rooted in entitlement.
Her final, tearful revelation—"I was raped," "I'm sorry"—comes too late and feels like a desperate attempt to redeem or explain a character who has been thoroughly and effectively established as inherently malicious. While the twist aims for sympathy, the poisoning action itself is too dark, too calculated, for this confession to fully land as redemption. It cheapens the raw power of her villainy by trying to slap a convenient trauma label on it in the final act.
Chris: The Weak Co-Conspirator
Chris, the husband, occupies the uncomfortable role of the moral fence-sitter. Daniel Kalu plays him with a perpetually conflicted frown, making him initially sympathetic—a man trapped between his wife's pathological desire and his own residual morality. However, his moral compass only seems to activate after the agreement is fundamentally breached and Indidi is in actual physical danger.
Prior to the poisoning, he is complicit, navigating his wife’s cruelty with hesitant suggestions rather than decisive action. His final, dramatic decision to follow through with legal action against his wife is powerful, but it comes only when the situation is irreparable. The critique here is that Chris is not a tragic figure; he is a weak co-conspirator whose belated moral awakening feels less heroic and more like damage control after his passivity allowed the initial tragedy to unfold.
Indidi and Grandma: The Moral Anchor
Indidi and her Grandma serve as the moral counterweight to the central couple's corruption. They are representations of profound poverty contrasted with unshakable moral integrity. Their portrayal is effective in generating sympathy, but they are undeniably used primarily as plot devices. They facilitate the emotional and ethical conflict of the wealthy couple, symbolizing the human cost of the surrogacy arrangement. The sheer goodness of Indidi, and the wisdom of her Grandma, while heartwarming, risks simplifying the complex reality they represent.
3. Pay-to-Play Motherhood: Thematic and Ethical Examination
The film’s greatest strength lies in its explicit, unflinching exploration of the ethical exploitation inherent in commercial surrogacy driven by vast class disparity. This is where the narrative’s ambition shines.
Ethics of Surrogacy & Classism
The film is a searing critique of classism. The core motivation for the poor, Indidi, is devastatingly simple: "She needs money to take care of herself and her grandma." The ease with which the wealthy couple treats Indidi's womb as an asset, a problem to be outsourced, is sickeningly effective.
The contrast between Chris’s initial frugality and his later, higher financial offer to Indidi (a desperate, final bid for moral absolution) is the thematic crux. He was initially reluctant to even buy Indidi new clothes, yet when the child's fate is at stake, he suddenly finds the millions. This demonstrates how the wealthy only value the poor when their own desires are threatened, highlighting the transactional nature of their engagement with Indidi’s humanity. The film successfully posits that in this economy, money doesn't just buy a service; it buys moral authority and the expectation of subservience.
The Competing Nature of Motherhood
"I GAVE YOU MY ALL" skillfully pits two competing definitions of motherhood against each other. There is Brenda's definition: a biological necessity driven by desperation, tied to status and social pressure. And then there is the profound, selfless, and adoptive love represented by Grandma, who famously declares: "This girl here is all I have." Grandma's love for Indidi is a foundational element, an unquestionable emotional truth.
The scene where Grandma argues the priceless nature of carrying a child is the film's philosophical high point: "You cannot pay for the restlessness a person is going to have." This line crystallizes the ethical dilemma, arguing that the emotional and physical toll of surrogacy transcends any monetary transaction. It sets up the central thesis beautifully, even before the catastrophic twist. The fact that the ultimate twist reveals Indidi is an orphan—"I'm not related to me by blood"—serves to underscore Grandma's definition: motherhood is defined by love, not lineage.
4. The Twist That Ate the Plot: Climax and Final Verdict
The climax of "I GAVE YOU MY ALL" is classic Nollywood melodrama—high-stakes, emotionally devastating, and just a little bit ridiculous. It leaves the critic questioning whether the narrative truly earned its final moments.
The Unearned Twist
The central twist—that Indidi is Brenda’s abandoned baby—is a major moment of contention. While it provides a satisfying, circular closure to the tragedy, it feels like a convenient, melodramatic leap that ultimately undermines the grounded tension of the surrogacy drama. The film did not lay nearly enough groundwork for this reveal. It relies on sheer shock value and the thematic weight of "karma" rather than subtle foreshadowing. Had the focus remained on the ethical implications of the surrogacy contract, the film would have been a stronger, more realistic social drama. Instead, it opts for maximum emotional payoff, sacrificing narrative logic in the process.
Payoff of the Poisoning
The decision to have Brenda poison Indidi, causing the loss of the child, is an escalation that is both gratuitous and dramatically essential. If the child had been successfully born, the final twist would have lost its devastating punch. The loss of the child is necessary for the twist to land, forcing Brenda to face the monstrous nature of her actions while simultaneously creating the space for the emotional adoption/reunion that closes the film. However, it still feels like an unneeded layer of darkness simply to ensure the emotional scale is absolutely maxed out.
Conclusion: A Must-Watch Moral Disasterpiece
"I GAVE YOU MY ALL" is a film of immense ambition, but its execution is a chaotic blend of searing ethical commentary and gratuitous, narrative-bending melodrama. The film succeeds wildly in its character work (despite Brenda’s clunky redemption) and in its devastating critique of class exploitation in modern Nigerian society. It provides essential viewing for its performances alone, particularly Nneka's chilling portrayal of the entitled villain.
Ultimately, the film chooses the big, dramatic lie over the quieter, more painful truth, prioritizing the emotional shockwave of its twist over the structural integrity of its premise. It's a flaw that is easy to forgive when the drama is this compelling, this well-acted, and this willing to delve into the heart of moral darkness.
Verdict: 3.5/5 Stars. Essential viewing for fans of high-octane, complex drama, provided you're willing to accept that the moral disaster is exactly the point. Go watch it, but bring your moral compass—you'll need it.
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