Onobiren wants to be a story about women supporting each other, and in many ways, it succeeds. The film, directed by Famous Odion Iraoya from a screenplay by pastor and executive producer Laju Iren, centers on Roli, a young fish trader whose business grows despite the obstacles thrown at her. It’s a film about female friendship, ambition, and survival in a society that often works against women trying to build something for themselves.
The setup is simple. Roli, played by Ruby Akubueze, grew up poor in a fishing community in Warri. Her father taught her to fish, breaking tradition by taking her out to sea. After his death and a series of hardships, she moves to Lagos and eventually builds a successful fish-trading business. Along the way, she meets Rebecca, played by Bisola Aiyeola, a woman struggling with infertility and the pressure that comes with it. The two form a bond that changes both their lives.
Where Onobiren works best is in how it frames female relationships. Nollywood loves to pit women against each other, especially when a man is involved. This film doesn’t do that. Roli and Rebecca’s friendship is genuine, built on mutual respect rather than competition. That alone makes Onobiren feel different from the usual fare. The film also shows male characters who actually help rather than hinder, from Roli’s supportive father to Temisan, Rebecca’s husband, who learns to be a better partner as the story progresses.
The problem is that Onobiren doesn’t trust itself to tell this story without constant guidance. Throughout the film, Ruby Akubueze’s voiceover interrupts scenes, narrating events we’re already watching unfold on screen. The film cuts between Roli recounting her story (including segments where she appears on Chude Jideonwo’s real show, #WithChude) and flashbacks showing those same moments. It’s heavy-handed. We see Roli’s struggles play out visually, but instead of letting those moments breathe, the film explains them through narration. It’s like the filmmakers were afraid the audience wouldn’t understand unless someone spelled it out.
This choice undercuts the emotional weight of key scenes. When Roli faces setbacks or makes hard decisions, the voiceover jumps in to tell us what she’s feeling instead of letting Akubueze’s performance do that work. It creates distance between the audience and the character, turning moments that should hit hard into information dumps. The film would have been stronger if Iren and Iraoya had trusted the story to speak for itself without the constant narration layer.
Ruby Akubueze does what she can with Roli, but the narration limits her. There are glimpses of a deeper performance, especially in quieter moments where she’s allowed to just exist without commentary. Bisola Aiyeola fares better as Rebecca. She brings warmth and vulnerability to a character who could have easily been reduced to “the woman who can’t have children.” Aiyeola makes Rebecca feel like a full person, someone dealing with real pain but refusing to be defined by it.
Deyemi Okanlawon plays Temisan, Rebecca’s husband, with a gentleness that’s refreshing. He’s not perfect, he’s learning how to support his wife better, but the film shows that growth without making a big deal of it. It’s one of the film’s stronger character arcs, even if it happens in the background.
Then there’s Patience Ozokwor as Mama Temisan, Rebecca’s mother-in-law. Ozokwor is playing the exact role she’s famous for: the wicked, overbearing mother-in-law who meddles in her son’s marriage. She’s good at it, she’s been doing it for decades, but it feels like a step backward.
The film wants to show women in complex ways, but then it brings in one of Nollywood’s most tired tropes and leans into it fully. Ozokwor is entertaining, and there are moments where her desperation for a grandchild feels almost tragic. But the character is so familiar that it clashes with the more nuanced approach the film takes elsewhere.
Onome Agesse plays Mama Dede, the businesswoman who controls the fishing boats in Roli’s hometown and keeps the local women in debt. She’s the film’s main villain, and she’s written as one-dimensionally as they come. There’s no backstory, no complexity, just a powerful woman exploiting others because the plot needs an obstacle. It’s a shame because the film spends time showing how women can be both helpers and hindrances to each other, but Mama Dede never gets that depth.
The pacing drags in the first half. Before things start looking up for Roli, the film moves slowly, lingering on hardship without finding much dramatic tension in it. Once the story shifts to Lagos and Roli starts building her business, the film picks up. But even then, major developments get rushed through exposition rather than played out on screen. The voiceover does a lot of heavy lifting, explaining character decisions and time jumps instead of showing them.
Onobiren is a faith-based film, but it handles that aspect better than most. The themes of forgiveness, perseverance, and divine intervention are there, but they don’t dominate every scene. The film doesn’t preach. Problems get solved through human effort and compromise, with faith as a background presence rather than the entire point. That restraint is appreciated. It lets the story feel grounded even when it touches on spiritual themes.
Technically, the film has issues. The sound mixing is inconsistent, with dialogue sometimes competing with background noise. The score tries too hard to manipulate emotions, swelling at moments that should speak for themselves. The cinematography is fine, nothing remarkable. For a film about a woman whose life revolves around water and fishing, there’s a missed opportunity to use visuals that emphasize that connection. The water metaphors are there in the story, but the camerawork doesn’t lean into them the way it could.
The supporting cast is uneven. The more experienced actors hold their own, but some of the less seasoned performers struggle. It’s not distracting enough to derail scenes, but it’s noticeable.
Where Onobiren succeeds is in its heart. The film genuinely cares about its characters and the women’s stories it’s telling. The central friendship between Roli and Rebecca feels earned, and the way their bond helps both of them move forward is satisfying. The film also makes a point about community and how women lifting each other up can create real change, not just individually but collectively. Roli’s success improves the lives of the fisherwomen in her hometown, and that ripple effect matters.
But the execution doesn’t match the ambition. The reliance on voiceover narration flattens the storytelling, constantly pulling you out of scenes that should immerse you. The film cuts between Roli telling her story and us watching it happen, but that structure creates distance rather than intimacy. We’re told what to feel instead of being allowed to feel it ourselves. The uneven pacing makes the first half feel like work. The technical flaws and weak supporting performances pull you out of moments that should resonate.
Onobiren has a solid foundation, a story about resilience and solidarity that feels relevant and necessary. It just needed more confidence in letting that story unfold without constant explanation. Iren’s screenplay has the right instincts about female friendship and community, but the decision to layer so much narration over the action suggests a lack of trust in the material or the audience. The story is strong enough to stand on its own. The film didn’t need someone talking us through it.
Onobiren opened in Nigerian cinemas on March 6, 2026, ahead of International Women’s Day. It’s a film with good intentions and some genuinely affecting moments, especially between Roli and Rebecca. But it’s also a film that holds itself back, unsure if the audience will follow unless it narrates every step. That lack of trust keeps Onobiren from being the stirring, cinematic experience it clearly wants to be.
Release Date: March 6, 2026
Runtime: Approximately 2 hours
Streaming Service: Theatrical release
Directed by: Famous Odion Iraoya
Screenplay by: Laju Iren
Cast: Ruby Akubueze, Bisola Aiyeola, Deyemi Okanlawon, Patience Ozokwor, Temitope Aje,
Onome Agesse