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My Review of Roses and Ivy.

Sometimes, a film doesn’t just tell a story—it drags you into a moral WrestleMania, forces you to question your sense of justice, and leaves you staring at the screen like, “Wait, did I just get scammed?” That’s exactly what Roses and Ivy, directed and produced by Biodun Stephen, attempts to do. But instead of delivering a knockout punch, it fumbles the bag, scattering your beliefs like a deck of cards in a windstorm—chaotic, confusing, and borderline frustrating.

This film feels like someone tried to remix the biblical Jacob and Esau story but made Esau hand over his birthright voluntarily—no stew, no stress, just vibes. Imagine betrayal and selfishness playing out, only for the universe to give them a standing ovation. That’s Roses and Ivy in a nutshell: morally suspect, outrageously unfair, yet weirdly addictive.

At its core, Roses and Ivy is a sibling showdown of epic proportions. On one side, you’ve got Rose—the reckless, free-spirited sister who makes chaos look like an art form. On the other, Evelyn—the overachieving, responsible sibling who clearly missed the memo about life being unfair. But rather than milking this classic “good sibling vs. bad sibling” trope, the film flips the script so hard you’ll need Panadol. The result? Loyalty gets trashed, love is weaponized, and Evelyn’s sacrifices are treated like “terms and conditions” nobody read.

Now, let’s talk plot. This story tries to juggle everything—academic struggles, love triangles, family health crises, and motherhood—and ends up stumbling like a toddler on skates. Evelyn, the diligent, sacrificing sister, gives up her dreams to care for their sick father. But guess who gets the spotlight? Yep, Rose. She’s out here turning betrayals into triumphs like she’s on some twisted version of The Apprentice. It’s like the writers went, “Hmm, how do we gaslight the audience into rooting for the villain?”

The love triangle? A hot mess. Evelyn’s best friend Lanre ends up entangled with Rose behind Evelyn’s back, setting up the central conflict. But instead of building tension, the plot dives headfirst into absurdity. Rose marries Lanre, then has the audacity to ask Evelyn to be her surrogate. At this point, I was literally screaming, “Is this Nollywood or a Netflix parody?”

And don’t even get me started on the climax. Accidents, revelations, childbirth—everything happens in one chaotic sprint to the finish line. Then, the ultimate slap in the face: a happy ending where Rose gets everything she wants, while Evelyn’s sacrifices are swept under the rug like spilled gari. Honestly, I felt like I needed a therapy session after watching.

But let’s give credit where it’s due. Uche Montana, as Rose, delivers a masterclass in pettiness and manipulation. She plays the role so well you almost want to send her a WhatsApp to say, “Aunty, abeg calm down.” Munachi Abii, as Evelyn, is equally brilliant, carrying the emotional weight of the film with quiet grace. But the script does her dirty, turning her into a glorified sidekick in her own story. Evelyn’s subdued reactions to Rose’s betrayals? Highly questionable. Like, sis, where’s the energy?

The child actors—Diana and Dominique Egwuatu, Favour Etim, Ella Okorie, and Nifemi Lawal—deserve their flowers. Their performances anchor the early parts of the film in authenticity. But as the story shifts to the adult characters, the transitions feel jarring, almost like they switched directors halfway through.

On the technical side, Roses and Ivy shines. The cinematography? Chef’s kiss. The soft lighting and muted tones capture the melancholic vibe perfectly. And that soundtrack? It’s like they bottled heartbreak and poured it into every scene. The opening and closing credits paired with the music hit so hard I almost forgave the plot. Almost.

But no amount of technical brilliance can save a story that feels like a moral slap in the face. The therapy session at the end, meant to tie everything together, comes off as a weak attempt to justify the madness. By this point, you’re not just questioning the characters—you’re questioning your life choices for watching.

Honestly, the film’s audacity is what gets me. It serves betrayal and selfishness on a platter, sprinkles some “complex moral dilemmas,” and then rewards the messiest character. Evelyn? Reduced to a background extra in her own life. And the audience? Left clutching their moral compass, wondering if it’s broken.

If you’re looking for a film that’ll have you screaming at your TV, pacing your room, and side-eyeing everyone named Rose, this one’s for you. But if you’re expecting satisfying resolutions or characters you can root for, Roses and Ivy will leave you as confused as a Manchester United fan during transfer season.

Rating: 3/5.

Daniel Nsa