OBA OMO (The King Child)

I’m a sucker for any film that focuses on a performer’s face and the natural power it holds, OBA OMO (The King Child) is one such example. It tells a spiritual tale through evocative, free-flowing imagery and voiceover. There is but one subject in the piece: a woman within nature performing "the oral folk tradition of Ibeji". Meanwhile, a loud voice relays the story of The King Child, speaking of the descendants of the ‘Columbus Monkey’. On the surface this may seem inaccessible or, perhaps, confusing; however, this short film’s use of physicality and sporadic, Malickian visuals provide a fascinating sense of discovery. One may not fully comprehend all the cultural concepts the piece is exploring, yet we marvel at its hypnotic tone and wondrous mystery.

Some of the cinematography is quite lovely: it’s appropriately soft and mobile, reflecting both the sparse content of the piece and how the subject moves. Each shot is completely motivated by the character’s actions on screen – we, as the audience, feel connected with her visually, which is apt for a work that’s based around such spiritual subject matter. The use of shallow depth of field is pleasant... although the use of auto-focus is completely out of place and easily avoidable. A handheld camera is often criticised (for some reason), yet here it appears emblematic of the movie’s spontaneous aesthetic.

Arguably, one of the best elements of the picture is its use of reflection: it’s such a simple yet effective use of set design. The way this rectangular, rimless mirror is placed around nature is fabulously inventive – it gives the environment a varied feel in terms of perspective, and it also allows us to view our protagonist in a slightly different manner, an additional fragmentary layer. Also, metaphorically speaking, there’s something ethereal or otherworldly in its being there, as if we are in fact peering into some fantastic but grounded plane of reality.

The lead performer is terrific. She displays such a dedication to channeling emotion purely through physical expression - she doesn’t have a line of dialogue. They oscillate between wistful and playful to being stagnant; there’s a naturally reactive manner to how she interacts with the surroundings. A performance like this can really make a film. Narrative becomes a lot less important when a subject harnesses the frame themselves. There’s certainly a bravery and power to the main performer which cannot be denied.

A lot of thought and creativity has gone into OBA OMO (The King Child). It feels artistically confident throughout and encourages audiences to be ambitious in how they choose to interpret its messaging. It is, of course, an unusual and uncommercial piece of filmmaking (thus perhaps not entertaining to the average viewer); but its artistry is more than present and should be celebrated. The only explicit, technical mishap one notices is the strangely compressed sound of the voiceover which is both loud and unclear; although, for many, this may bring a uniquely sinister feel to what we’re hearing. But to surmise, it’s a fascinating and original work – one that fully engages with a filmic spirituality.