My people, greetings!
They say a film is only as strong as the actors who hold its soul. In the Nollywood of today, where the gloss of production can sometimes outshine the heart of the story, it is the performances that ultimately decide whether a story lands in your spirit or bounces right off the screen. “The Wrong Forever” (2026) is a film that lives and dies by this very principle. It is a contemporary drama built on a familiar framework of love, betrayal, and consequence, but its true journey is charted by the emotional compasses of its lead actors, Shaznay Okawa and Maurice Sam. This is not a film about grand, sweeping events; it is a film about people—their choices, their pain, and the silent wars they fight behind their eyes.
As a veteran who has watched our industry transition from the raw, unfiltered passion of the VHS era to the polished narratives of the streaming age, I have come to respect one timeless truth: the camera is a lie detector. It amplifies authenticity and exposes emptiness in equal measure. So, let us put aside the plot mechanics for a moment and step into the arena where “The Wrong Forever” truly finds its battlefield: in the nuanced, gripping, and occasionally uneven performances of its cast.
The Lead Duo: A Study in Contrasting Power
Shaznay Okawa, as the female lead, delivers a performance that is the undeniable anchor of this film. She does not merely act her role; she inhabits it with a quiet, devastating intensity. Her character’s journey is one of layered betrayal—romantic, personal, and existential. Okawa masters the art of internal conflict. In scenes where dialogue is sparse, she communicates volumes through the slight tremble of a lip, the hollow stare into the middle distance, and the way her posture shifts from open vulnerability to armored defensiveness. There is a particular scene, set in a rain-soaked Lagos evening, where her character receives life-altering news. Okawa’s reaction is not one of loud, dramatic wailing—a common trope we’ve seen a thousand times. Instead, she goes completely still, the only movement being the tears mixing with the rain on her face. It is a masterclass in understated, powerful grief that feels profoundly real and Nigerian in its dignified suffering.
Opposite her, Maurice Sam brings a different kind of energy. His performance is all externalized conflict—charismatic, volatile, and physically commanding. He embodies the archetype of the ambitious, morally conflicted modern Nigerian man with a convincing swagger. His delivery of Pidgin English in heated arguments is sharp and natural, landing every insult and plea with the rhythmic cadence of real Lagos street arguments. However, where Okawa simmers, Sam sometimes boils over. There are moments where his emotional transitions feel abrupt, jumping from charm to rage without the nuanced bridge of internal struggle that Okawa so expertly portrays. This creates a slight imbalance in their chemistry; at times, it feels less like a clash of equals and more like a profound emotional force (Okawa) meeting a potent dramatic one (Sam). That said, when the script gives them a quiet moment of confrontation—a tense conversation in a minimally lit living room—the sparks are genuine. You can feel the history and hurt hanging in the air between them.
The Supporting Cast: Pillars and Missed Opportunities
A Nollywood film often draws its cultural texture from its supporting players, and here the results are mixed. The actors portraying the familial and social circles of the leads provide crucial grounding. The matriarchal figure, played by a seasoned but under-credited actress, offers moments of pure, proverbial wisdom that anchor the film in a recognizably Nigerian moral universe. Her stern looks and loaded proverbs, delivered in rich Yoruba, provide the cultural counterweight to the lead couple’s modern dilemmas.
However, the film falls into a common trap with some of its other secondary characters. The “best friend” confidantes and business rivals often feel like they are reading from a catalog of Nollywood stock roles. Their lines serve more as plot exposition or comic relief than as genuine extensions of the world. Their performances, while energetic, lack the specificity and depth that would make their interventions feel organic rather than scripted necessities. This is not necessarily a fault of the actors, but of a screenplay that does not grant them the same dimensional care it gives the leads.
Language as a Character: The Code-Switching Soul
One of the most authentic performance elements in “The Wrong Forever” is its use of language. The actors seamlessly code-switch between English, Pidgin, and Yoruba, not as a gimmick, but as a natural reflection of urban Nigerian identity. The emotional temperature of a scene often dictates the language:
Formal English is the language of deception, public image, and cold confrontation.
Pidgin erupts in moments of raw anger, intimate familiarity, or street-smart negotiation.
Native language (Yoruba in this case) is reserved for moments of deep cultural connection, prayer, or profound emotional truth, often with elders.
This linguistic authenticity, performed with natural ease by the cast, does more for the film’s realism than any location shot. It places the story firmly in the heart of a recognizable Nigeria.
How Craft Serves (and Sometimes Hinders) the Performance
The technical choices largely frame the performances effectively. The cinematography wisely leans on close-ups, especially in Okawa’s scenes, allowing her subtle facial work to captivate the screen. The lighting in interior scenes is generally soft and complimentary, though some night scenes suffer from that classic Nollywood challenge of inconsistent lighting, momentarily pulling you out of the performance.
The sound design is crucial here. In a performance-led film, dialogue is king, and the mixing is clear, ensuring every whispered betrayal and raised voice is heard. However, the score occasionally betrays the actors’ subtlety. There are moments where Okawa’s silent suffering is over-scored with overly dramatic string music, instructing the audience how to feel instead of trusting the performance already showing us.
The Verdict: An Actor’s Showcase
“The Wrong Forever” is a testament to the growing depth of performance talent in Nollywood. It demonstrates that our actors are more than ready to carry complex, emotionally demanding narratives. Shaznay Okawa gives a award-worthy performance that alone makes the film worth watching. Maurice Sam, while uneven, shows flashes of brilliance that promise great potential. The film around them is solid, if familiar, in its plot, but it is their human drama that provides the real stakes and emotional resonance.
Overall Rating: 3.5 out of 5 Stars
It is a film that will satisfy audiences who crave substance over spectacle, who find pleasure in watching gifted actors dissect the complexities of the human heart within a framework they know and understand. It may not break radical new narrative ground, but in its commitment to emotional truth through performance, it represents a significant and welcome step forward for the craft of acting in our industry.
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