OMO IYA OSHA (2026): Nollywood's Raw Robbery Thriller or Just Another Hustle Gone Wrong?

The Hustle, The Heist, and The Altar: A Review of Olayinka Solomon’s "OMO IYA OSHA"

#OmoIyaOsha #Nollywood2026 #YorubaCinema #OlayinkaSolomon #NollywoodReview

Rating: ............ (3/5 Stars)

By Chinedu Okeke, Nollywood Times Chief Critic

January 11, 2026

Introduction: The New Era of Yoruba Neo-Noir

In the sprawling landscape of 2026 Nollywood, the "Yoruba Epic" has often taken a backseat to the rising tide of "Yoruba Neo-Noir"—films that trade the traditional village square for the gritty, neon-lit streets of Lagos and Ibadan. "OMO IYA OSHA", the latest feature-length offering from OLUOKUN TV, is a sprawling, three-hour-plus odyssey that attempts to juggle heist thriller tropes, political Machiavellianism, and the deeply rooted spiritual undertones that define the "Iya Oshun" (Mother of the Deity) archetype.

Directed and led by the formidable Olayinka Solomon, alongside veterans like Peju Ogunmola and the energetic Abebi, this film isn't just a movie; it’s a marathon. It explores the Nigerian obsession with "the shortcut"—that desperate, often violent leap from poverty to "Long-time-no-see" wealth. But does it manage to stay upright under the weight of its own ambition, or does it succumb to the classic Nollywood trap of "too much story, too little structure"? Let's break it down.

Cinematography: Sharp Lenses vs. TV Habits

Visually, Omo Iya Osha demonstrates the industry's massive leap in technical hardware. The camera quality is crisp, utilizing high-dynamic-range sensors that handle the harsh Nigerian sun without blowing out the highlights.

However, we still see the lingering ghost of "TV-style" filmmaking. There is a heavy reliance on the medium-close-up during dialogue-heavy scenes, which, while safe, misses opportunities for more atmospheric storytelling. The supermarket robbery sequence is a standout moment where the cinematography finally breathes. The use of handheld shots creates a sense of frantic realism, capturing the terror of the shoppers and the calculated movements of the gunmen.

Lighting Consistency: The film struggles slightly during night shoots and low-light interior scenes. While the primary talent is usually well-lit, the shadows often feel "muddy," likely a result of trying to balance the deep skin tones of the cast with a color grade that leans a bit too heavily into the "warm/gold" aesthetic popular in modern Yoruba cinema.

The Sound of the Street: Mixing and Cues

Sound has historically been the Achilles' heel of Nollywood, but Omo Iya Osha manages to keep its head above water. The dialogue is largely audible, a feat considering the chaotic environments—traffic, busy markets, and shouting matches—where much of the film takes place.

The background score is distinctly Nigerian, blending heavy percussion with synth pads to heighten tension during the heist planning phases. My one critique? The "emotional timing." In some of the more dramatic family confrontations, the music swells a few seconds too early, telegraphing the "big cry" before the actor has even shed a tear. Silence is a powerful tool, and this film could have benefited from letting the natural ambient sounds of Lagos carry more of the narrative weight.

Production Design: Authenticity in the Details

The costume and makeup departments deserve their flowers. There is a clear, visual distinction between the "Street" and the "Suite."

The Hustlers: The character "Pakistan" (played with infectious energy) is draped in the unofficial uniform of the Lagos underworld—distressed denim, heavy chains, and that particular "shayo-soaked" swagger.

The Elite: The political leaders and supermarket owners are draped in starched Agbadas and high-end corporate wear that scream "Old Money" and "New Corruption."

The set design of the supermarkets and the political party offices feels lived-in and believable. It doesn't look like a rented hall decorated five minutes before the "Action!" call; it feels like a space where real power is wielded.

Narrative Structure: The Three-Hour Marathon

Herein lies the rub. At over 3 hours, Omo Iya Osha is a test of endurance. The film effectively uses a dual-narrative structure: one track follows the planning and execution of a massive 300-million-naira heist, while the other follows the internal rot of a political party (the FFP).

The Hook: The opening hour is masterfully paced. We are introduced to the concept of the "Street Manager"—the man who plays both sides of the law. The revelation that the manager lied to the police about how much was stolen is a brilliant narrative pivot. It shifts the film from a simple "Good vs. Evil" story to a "Vulture vs. Hyena" story.

The Middle Slump: Between the 1 hour 30 and 2 hour 30 marks, the film drags. Subplots involving pregnancy and romantic entanglements feel like they belong in a different movie. While these scenes add "humanity," they stall the momentum of the heist thriller.

Plot Logic & The "Nigerian Reality"

One of the most impressive aspects of the script is its reflection of Nigerian societal norms. The logic of the heist—targeting the Thursday night "remittance" because the owner is too "stingy" to pay for professional 24/7 armed transit—is peak Nigerian realism. It highlights the "penny-wise, pound-foolish" mentality of the wealthy elite.

The Tropes: Yes, we have the "Betrayal" trope. Yes, we have the "Strong Mother" trope. However, they are handled with more nuance than the home videos of the early 2000s. The betrayal isn't just for the sake of drama; it’s driven by a clear, calculated need for survival.

Character Analysis: Powerhouses at Work

Olayinka Solomon carries the film with a presence that is both maternal and menacing. She understands the "Iya Osha" archetype perfectly—the woman who has seen too much and fears too little.

Abebi brings a much-needed levity and chaotic energy to the screen. In the scenes where she interacts with the "Pakistan" crew, the code-switching between Yoruba and Pidgin is seamless and authentic. This is how Nigerians actually talk; it’s not the "King’s English" or the "caricature Pidgin" of old Nollywood. It’s the language of the street.

The Supporting Cast: Peju Ogunmola remains the gold standard for "the moral anchor." Every time she is on screen, the stakes feel higher because we care about her character’s dignity.

Cultural Relevance: The Politics of the Belly

The "FFP - Service to the People" subplot serves as a biting social commentary on Nigerian politics. The film doesn't shy away from showing that positions of power are "bought" at the party level long before a single vote is cast by the public. The "agency fees" and "donations" mentioned in the film are clear nods to the "Politics of the Belly" that dominate our headlines.

For the diaspora audience, the film offers a window into the evolution of the Lagos "Area Boy" into the "Digital/Street Strategist." It’s no longer just about snatching bags; it’s about information, CCTV bypasses, and knowing which manager is disgruntled.

The Verdict: Is it Worth Your Data?

Omo Iya Osha is a film that reflects the current state of Nollywood: high production value, incredible acting talent, but a desperate need for a more ruthless editor. It is a story of greed, yes, but it is also a story about the systems that make greed a necessity for the common man.

If you are a fan of Yoruba cinema that pushes the boundaries of the "standard" drama, this is a must-watch. If you have a short attention span, you might find yourself scrubbing through the middle hour. But for those who stick with it, the "Operation Red" climax provides a satisfying, albeit high-octane, resolution.

Who should watch this?

Fans of gritty Lagos crime dramas.

Anyone interested in the intersection of Nigerian politics and street life.

Loyalists of Olayinka Solomon and the OLUOKUN TV brand.

Call to Action: Grab your popcorn (and maybe a charger), head over to OLUOKUN TV on YouTube, and witness the heist for yourself. Don't forget to drop a comment below—did the manager deserve his cut, or was he the biggest villain of them all?

Overall Rating: 3.2/5 Stars. A bold, if overlong, exploration of the Nigerian hustle. It’s gritty, it’s loud, and it’s unapologetically Yoruba.