In Nigeria and across much of Africa, the path to womanhood is often placed at two opposite ends of the same stick. The ‘ideal’ life accepted by society and the life filled with dreams. Damilola Orimogunje’s Dear Ajayi places two sisters on either end of this divide, perhaps to depict the cost of aspiring for both roles.
Set in southwestern Nigeria in the late 1990s, I am immediately blown away by the stark, familiar Nigerianness of the scenes and the beautiful use of language. It begins with Ade answering the phone. She has just received a call about her ailing mother, who would be brought into Ibadan to be looked after by her family. This particular scene unveils the character that is Ade Ajayi and her stance in her family.
She is doing everything that should regard her as reputable. She is a nurse, a devout Christian, caring for her sick mother and even carrying much of her family’s financial weight because her husband, Michael, is an artist whose paintings are priced and bought at the lowest of prices. She has built a life that society regards as ‘ideal’, yet there is a kind of unhappiness that sits with her in silence throughout the movie.
Then there is her younger sister, Titi. Titi is talented and bustling with big dreams of becoming a famous singer. She is heard before being properly understood as someone who loves to sing. She is introduced in the Ajayi family as the person singing to herself in the mirror at night, holding a microphone and a cigar, making her family wonder what exactly makes a person sing in the dead of night. It is a rather fitting introduction for someone whose greatest freedom lies in the very thing that her family and the entire society struggles to truly understand. Their differences are established early, but Dear Ajayi (presented as part of the 23rd edition of the Giornate degli Autori) does not make one sister more sensible or more reckless than the other. Damilola simply tells us their stories.
Titi’s artistic pursuit reflects an aspect of Nigeria that every creative, specifically women, would relate to. She wants to make music while remaining true to herself but she has to fight everyone to do it. Beauty standards. Music standards. Societal sneers, even her family. At some point, a director tells her that her music cannot sell. She still insists that she has a strategy. Her experiences take a rather zigzag curve afterwards, but it remains beautiful in the way it refrains from painting her path white or black. Damilola does not sugarcoat the realities of many creative pursuits in this part of the world. Talent might never be enough. There has to be access, money and sometimes, the willingness to bend your values and art into commercially pleasing standards.
Michael, Ade’s husband, is also dealing with his own version of the problem. His paintings are being sold for NGN900. Not enough to cover family costs or give him any form of fulfilment. After calling his paintings ‘worthless’ one night after ranting to Ade, he goes to Lagos to try to give himself better chances at earning money. His character provides the difficult question: what happens when art eventually begins to pay but the cost has removed you completely from the reasons you wanted to do it in the first place?
This is where Dear Ajayi becomes particularly sharp about the compromises that can come with artistic success. The problem is not only that African artists struggle to make a living from their work. It is also that when an opportunity finally arrives, survival can begin to dictate the terms of the art itself.
Titi’s choices carry another kind of cost. Her attempt to find freedom outside the expectations of her family leaves her vulnerable to abuse that is barely acknowledged by the people around her. The film does not turn this into a dramatic lesson. Instead, it highlights the victim-blaming and culprit-walking-free habits associated with stories of abuse.
The contrast between Titi’s path and Ade’s comes most alive in these moments of the movie. Ade has chosen the safer life, or what appears to be safer. Yet all she does is stumble under the weight of carrying everyone. Her faith gives her something to hold on to, but it cannot solve everything. The film’s conversations around illness, prayer and medical treatment quietly reflect a reality familiar to many Nigerian families, where religion, medicine and traditional beliefs often exist side by side when people are desperate for answers.
The family’s struggles also unfold against a Nigeria that is itself uncertain about where it is going. Radio reports speak of economic reforms and the country’s transition towards civilian rule. The news continues in the background while the family deals with its own crises. It is a useful contrast. Nigeria is trying to move forward politically, while these characters are trying to figure out what moving forward should mean for them personally.
What makes Dear Ajayi work is that it does not separate these things. The personal and the political exist in the same house. Economic uncertainty affects the artist. Gender expectations affect the sister. Religion shapes how illness is understood. Marriage becomes entangled with money and responsibility. Even the pursuit of a creative life becomes a negotiation with the realities of the country around them.
By the end of the movie, the characters get what they need, even when it was not necessarily what they wanted. More so for Titi.
There is something deeply Nigerian about the way these events and realities unfold in the story. It is in the choices, the compromises, the family responsibilities and even the things nobody quite says out loud. More than anything, the film left me asking questions. About the choices we make. The things we give up. And the lives we eventually learn to accept.
Damilola Orimogunje turns what appears to be an ordinary family story of two contrasting sisters into something far more layered, reflecting sisterhood, resilience, family, femininity and the many realities that still spill into the structures of Nigerian society. He tells it with a confidence and a kind of melancholy that makes Dear Ajayi linger long after it ends
The 83rd edition of the Venice International Film Festival is running on September 2-12, 2026.
