We saw the party, and here’s what we think

The Party

At a birthday party turned crime scene, Akinbobola—better known as Bobo—falls from his own balcony into the swimming pool, right in front of a yard full of friends, tenants, and family. As the only son of a wealthy, well-connected couple, Bobo’s fall is immediately assumed to be murder. It couldn’t possibly be an accident. Right?

The father (played by Bimbo Manuel) locks down the estate and calls in the Commissioner of Police. Three investigators arrive. The grieving mother (Shaffy Bello), in a very Nigerian twist, turns to her spiritual adviser, simply called “Apostle” (Jude Chukwuka). And just like that, The Party begins.

Only, this isn’t much of a party—or a mystery.

A Murder Mystery Without the Mystery

Across its three episodes, The Party tries very hard to follow the whodunit formula. It knows the basics: a shocking murder, a limited pool of suspects, detectives with quirks, misdirection, red herrings. It even understands that the killer must be dangled in front of the viewer, only to be lost in the noise.

But understanding the ingredients isn’t the same as knowing how to cook. The Party throws in all the tropes without the care or subtlety needed to make them work. The result? A crime drama that reveals its cards too early and then continues playing like we didn’t already see them.

Cameras, Clues, and Confusion

Visually, The Party is ambitious. The creators clearly studied the aesthetic of modern murder mysteries, using POV shots, dramatic zoom-ins, and clever transitions. There’s a deliberate effort to linger where tension should build, and shift perspective when the story needs a twist. But unfortunately, the cinematography stumbles—especially with blocking and shot composition. Sometimes it’s just hard to tell what’s important in a scene.

Worse still, The Party becomes obsessed with stylistic elements it doesn’t fully use. Surveillance footage is shown repeatedly—yet none of the characters ever reference it. And the habit of introducing last-minute evidence to frame and then unframe suspects feels less like suspense and more like chaos.

Detectives Without Depth

A classic murder mystery lives and dies by its detectives. And The Party gives us three. One chews gum. One makes faces. One fiddles with her pen while psychoanalyzing witnesses. That’s as deep as their personalities go.

It’s especially disappointing to see Kelechi Udegbe, an actor known for immersive, eccentric performances, reduced to a flat supporting character with little screen presence. If Nollywood had a Poirot-in-the-making, Udegbe would be on the shortlist. But here, he's just a glorified security escort for Eva Ibiam’s lead detective, who, despite the script’s insistence, doesn’t quite radiate brilliance.

So Many Characters, So Little Care

The show gives us the typical ensemble of suspects: a hated wife (Kehinde Bankole), seductive mistresses (Tope Olowoniyan and Chiamaka Uzokwe), a sketchy tenant (Femi Branch), some best friends (Ayoola Ayolola, Ben Touitou, Uzor Arukwe, Ray Adeka), and a few others thrown in to confuse the trail. But many of these characters are introduced haphazardly, without context or weight.

Even Bobo, the deceased celebrant, is introduced in scattered scenes. There’s no sense of who he really was before he died. No wonder we forget the names of characters and even detectives midway through episode two.

And that’s the core issue: in a proper mystery, characters are introduced with intention. Hints are planted for the viewer to pick up. You’re invited to play detective. But The Party doesn’t allow that. Instead, it spoon-feeds information, flashback after flashback, in a sequence that feels more like an elaborate recap than a game of deduction.

Cheats and Convenience

Even the revelations feel unearned. For example, Bobo’s serial philandering becomes crucial to the motive—but we barely see it established in his social scenes. Motunrayo (Kehinde Bankole) is supposedly the last person seen with the victim, yet only one witness says so, and no one ever challenges or supports it. Did the detectives even confirm her profession onscreen? Or did they get that info via osmosis?

These narrative shortcuts rob the story of real tension. When we figure out who the killer is, it’s not because the writing guided us there—it’s because the writing gave up trying to surprise us.

One Saving Grace: Nigerian Realism

Yet, there’s something oddly charming about how deeply The Party leans into its Nigerian-ness. It may not get everything right—“detective” as a job title? Miranda rights in Nigeria?—but it nails the little things: the housekeeper who cleans up a crime scene mid-investigation, a grieving mother seeking answers from her pastor, or a senior officer bending justice to protect his interests.

Yomi Fash-Lanso’s portrayal of a compromised, limping officer stands out. His character, torn between loyalty, ambition, and self-preservation, adds real depth to an otherwise clumsy investigation. And Apostle’s cryptic prophecy—that the killer would return bearing a “spotless gift”—is the only real bit of mystique that lands.

Final Thoughts

You might enjoy The Party for its drama, its messiness, or how uniquely Nigerian its failures are. But if you’re coming for a sharp, tightly written murder mystery? You’ll walk away disappointed.

At best, it’s a group chat argument brought to life with lighting cues and camera tricks. At worst, it’s a missed opportunity to elevate Nollywood’s take on a globally beloved genre.