Saamu Alajo (Wase'kunse) Ep 244: Odunlade Adekola’s Comedic Engine Refuses to Stall
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Overall Rating: ............. (3.5/5)
Odunlade Adekola returns as the irascible Bro Saamu in the latest installment of Saamu Alajo (Wase'kunse), Episode 244, kicking off 2026 with a riotous mix of neighborly feuds, over-the-top apologies, and classic Yoruba comedy flair. Released just yesterday on OAFP TV's YouTube channel, this 1-hour-11-minute episode captures Saamu stepping into the new year "with trouble, drama, and fight against his neighbours," proving once again why this long-running series remains a staple for Nollywood comedy fans craving relatable, belly-laugh escapism.
The King of Slapstick Returns: An Introduction
If there is one thing you can count on in the ever-evolving landscape of Nollywood, it is that Odunlade Adekola understands the pulse of the Nigerian "masses." In Episode 244 of Saamu Alajo (Wase'kunse), we are once again thrust into the chaotic, vibrant, and often nonsensical world of Saamu—the local thrift collector (alajo) whose mouth is faster than his feet.
As a veteran analyst of the Nollywood Industry, I have watched the transition from the video CD era to the high-definition gloss of YouTube-driven cinema, I find Saamu Alajo to be a fascinating case study. It’s a series that defies the "New Nollywood" obsession with over-polished aesthetics, choosing instead to lean heavily into the grassroots energy of the Yoruba comedy genre. This episode doesn’t just aim to entertain; it aims to mirror the hustle, the hypocrisy, and the hilarity of 2026 Nigerian life.
Cinematography: Transitioning from ‘TV-Style’ to Digital Polish
One of the first things that strikes you about Episode 244 is the technical maturity of the OAFP TV production house. In the early days of this series, the framing was often flat—reminiscent of 90s soap operas. Here, we see a more deliberate use of the camera to heighten comedy.
The director makes excellent use of tight close-ups during Saamu’s infamous monologues. When Odunlade’s face contorts in mock horror or exaggerated arrogance, the camera is right there, capturing every twitch of his eyebrow. This is crucial because, in Yoruba comedy, the face is as much a prop as the costume.
However, the "TV-style" roots still linger in the wide shots. During the community meeting scenes (around the mark), the lighting feels a bit static. While the color grading is vibrant—popping with the earthy tones of a Nigerian neighborhood—the interior lighting occasionally struggles with the harshness of the "white light" setups common in low-to-mid-budget productions. It’s functional, but it lacks the cinematic moodiness that could have elevated the tension during the confrontation with the "President General."
Sound Design & The ‘Nollywood Noise’ Factor
In many Yoruba productions, sound is the Achilles' heel. Background noise usually competes with dialogue, but Episode 244 shows marked improvement. Saamu’s dialogue is crisp and audible, which is vital given his penchant for rapid-fire proverbs and slang.
The use of diegetic sound—the ambient noise of the street—adds a layer of authenticity. You can hear the distant hum of life, which makes the setting feel lived-in. However, the musical score remains a bit heavy-handed. Like many Nollywood comedies, the music often "tells" the audience how to feel. A whimsical flute plays when Saamu is being mischievous; a heavy drum beats when a "dignitary" enters. While culturally appropriate and expected by the core audience, a more subtle use of silence could have made the punchlines land even harder.
Costume and Production Design: The Language of Status
Costume designer (and director) Odunlade Adekola uses wardrobe as a storytelling tool brilliantly. Saamu’s attire—the signature cap and the slightly-too-worn shirts—perfectly encapsulates his "struggling but proud" persona.
Contrast this with the "President General" or the characters discussing "Gucci and Versace" at the mark. The production design captures the Nigerian obsession with brand names as a marker of success. Even if the Gucci on the waist is clearly a "Grade A" replica from a local market, it communicates the character's aspirations and the societal pressure to "show level." The set design of the homes—with the ubiquitous lace doilies on chairs and the specific arrangement of trophies—is a masterclass in Nigerian domestic realism. It’s not "Pinterest pretty," but it is real.
Narrative Structure: Pacing and the ‘Wase’kunse’ Hook
The episode opens with a high-stakes hook involving the "President General". This is a classic Nollywood tactic: start with the climax, then backpedal to show how we got there. It ensures the YouTube viewer doesn't click away in the first thirty seconds.
The pacing of the subplots is generally tight, though, like many long-running series, there are moments where the dialogue drags. The scene discussing the "22,000" at could have been edited down by two minutes without losing the narrative weight. However, the emotional payoff during the resolution is satisfying. The series excels at the "circular narrative"—starting with chaos, moving through more chaos, and ending with a comedic reset that leaves the door open for Episode 245.
Plot Logic: Tropes and Truths
We see the typical Nollywood tropes here: the sudden spiritual intervention, the recording of voices to use as "evidence", and the "ritualist" accusation. While these might feel overused to a global audience, they function as cultural shorthand in Nigeria.
The logic holds up within the world of the show. Saamu’s motivation is always survival and ego. When he claims he is a "gentleman" this year, the audience knows it’s a lie, but within the Nigerian societal norm of "new year, new me" resolutions, it feels hilariously authentic. The plot hole regarding how Saamu manages to be in so many places at once is easily forgiven because he is more of a "trickster archetype" than a grounded character.
Performance Analysis: Odunlade’s Masterclass
Let’s be clear: Odunlade Adekola is the sun around which this entire production orbits. His performance in Episode 244 is a reminder of why he is a meme-lord and a superstar. His command of the Yoruba language, peppered with modern slang and English infusions, is rhythmic.
The supporting cast, particularly the actress playing the "lady of your lawyer," provides a solid foil to Saamu’s madness. The chemistry in the confrontation scenes feels improvised and fresh. There is a moment at where the "Madam" tells everyone to "calm down," and the way the ensemble reacts feels like a genuine community spat. It’s this ensemble energy that keeps the 71-minute runtime from feeling like a chore.
Thematic Depth: Survival in 2026
Beyond the laughs, Wase'kunse touches on the heavy themes of corruption, community leadership, and the hustle. The fixation on "Gucci" and "Versace" isn't just a joke; it’s a commentary on the "fake it till you make it" culture that permeates the diaspora and local youth.
The religious undertones—the constant calls for "Amen" and "Hallelujah"—reflect the deeply spiritual (and sometimes performatively religious) nature of Nigerian society. The show subtly asks: Who are the real prophets, and who are the people just trying to pay their bills?
The Verdict: Is It Worth Your Data?
Saamu Alajo Episode 244 is a testament to the endurance of the Yoruba comedy genre. It doesn't try to be The Figurine or Anikulapo; it knows exactly what it is—high-energy, community-focused entertainment that provides a mirror to the Nigerian soul.
The Good:
Odunlade Adekola’s unmatched comedic timing.
Authentic production design that captures the "real" Nigeria.
Sharp social commentary buried under slapstick.
The Bad:
Occasional pacing lulls in the middle act.
Audio levels during large ensemble scenes can be slightly uneven.
Who Should Watch This?
The Die-Hard Fan: If you’ve watched the first 243 episodes, this is a non-negotiable must-watch.
The Diaspora: Those looking for a slice of home that isn't filtered through a "Western" lens.
The Newcomer: It’s a great entry point into Yoruba comedy, provided you’re ready for the high-octane energy.
Watch it. Grab your popcorn (or your roasted corn and ube), sit back, and let Saamu remind you why we love to laugh at our own chaos.
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