After watching Taiwo Egunjobi’s third feature film, A Green Fever, you may have some nagging questions. Set in the 80s, the movie follows an architect, Kunmi Braithwaite (Temilolu Fosudo), whose daughter has fallen ill with green fever. He seeks help at Colonel Bashiru’s (William Benson) secluded house, and by the end of the film, no one is who they claim to be, leaving some viewers with unresolved issues.
In this exclusive interview with What Kept Me Up, the writer Isaac Ayodeji and the lead Temilolu Fosudo, frequent collaborators of the director, answer some burning questions and offer insight into the recently released noir film currently streaming on Prime Video.
The interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Congratulations on the release of A Green Fever, Isaac. As the writer, what inspired this movie?
Isaac: Myself and Taiwo have always been obsessed with talking about politics and the Civil War; we are history buffs. We wanted an entertaining channel to express what we care about, and that’s how this started. We were trying to figure out how to tell a story about the Civil War that still has thrilling elements of the kinds of films we enjoy watching. Get Out was the earliest inspiration for this film. The more we talked to people and developed the story, the more references we had. We were also inspired by The Outfit, a similarly claustrophobic story that happens in a tailor’s workshop for most of the film. Another reference is Paper Moon (1973), which Peter Bogdanovich directed. It’s about a con man and his daughter; they go around conning people.
The funny thing is that we had three different story ideas which merged into what became A Green Fever. They all had elements of subterfuge, false identities, going undercover, the Civil War, and innocence in the midst of the cruelty that Matlida represents. So we decided to merge everything into one, making it a simple, financially doable story about the Nigerian civil war, corruption, our identity as Nigerians, and the relationship between Nigeria and the British system that is entertaining. Initially, the premise was much simpler, and the movie had a different title. The initial title was a carving of Ijapa, the Yoruba name for the crafty tortoise. The script spent some time in development, going through different iterations. There was a time when it expanded outside the house and remained there for a while, providing context for the con Kunmi and Ireti are running with. But, during the development process, we decided to keep everything contained in that apartment to align with the story’s identity as a contained, claustrophobic experience.
Like the movie, the title A Green Fever starts off being about one thing: the alleged disease, but by the end of the film, it’s become a metaphor. How did you land on the title, and what does it mean to you?
Isaac: The funny thing about the title is that it took a while before we got it. Taiwo is usually the one who comes up with good titles; I suck at titles. When it comes to titles, he likes to come up with titles that encompass different meanings. A Green Fever is actually a disease. It also refers to the Nigerian currency and the greed it stimulates when people are exposed to money. It’s a sickness of the mind. The uniforms of the soldiers too are green, pointing to some form of malaise present in the military setup. So, A Green Fever is like a marriage of different images. It is one thing and many things. Yes, there is a sickness called green fever, but the thinking behind the title was what it meant as an image and a metaphor — the fact that it covers not only a disease of the mind, the disease of the military class, the disease of the citizens and what money does to people.
As a long-time creative partner of the director, how did you learn about this project, Temi? What was your reaction to the script?
Temilolu: Taiwo, Isaac, and I have worked together several times, so we are used to each other. Isaac is our writer, and I am the actor, so we rally around and take our positions when there is a new project. We have known each other for a while, and we are always talking about the same things – politics, religion, and philosophy. We’re very like-minded in that sense, which makes it easy for us to work together. We did In Ibadan together. Isaac wrote it, I played the lead, and Taiwo directed it. Taiwo and I produced it together. We did Crushed Roses together as well, which Isaac also wrote.
So I wasn’t surprised when Taiwo called me to play this tricky and interesting role. He trusted me to deliver, so it was easy for him to send me the script. I was very excited when I got the script because I am usually called to play brooding characters, but this one was quite different. There was a bit of action and mischief, so I was hooked immediately.
Your character, Kunmi Braithwaite, initially presents one way before switching up on us. What was your approach to portraying the full range of your character?
Temilolu: As an actor, you want to be challenged; you want to play roles that push you to the edge, where if you’re not very careful in interpreting it, you can get it wrong. For this role, I had to mislead the audience, which is very difficult to do, and then spring up the surprise by becoming a new kind of person. But I studied theatre arts and have been drilled for many years in characterisation, dramaturgy, and all that. So, I dug deep and found certain character traits to separate the two characters’ levels. For the first bit, I tried to be jittery, stutter a lot with my sentences, and use “Ums” and “Ers” to generally have this nervous personality. The moment the switch came, my eyes went dead, and my speech was very direct and certain. It helps that I have a baby face, which can be misleading. I look like I need help, so when I appear with my daughter, it’s easy for the audience to fall for it.
Speaking of characters, Colonel Bashiru (William Benson) stands out because he has the most lines and the bearings of a formidable character with a lot of ego and control issues. What was your approach to crafting this character?
Isaac: Like I said initially, this story went through many iterations before we got to this version. There’s a version where the Colonel doesn’t say much and emerges halfway into the story. There’s also a version where he is not a Colonel but just a frustrated military man. The green fever helped Kunmi into the house and it kept him there. That was a level of tension. We needed another level – something external, something that had to keep Kunmi trapped in the house. First, we arrived at the idea of a curfew. With time, we decided to layer a coup on top of that. That was how we arrived at the coup. As we discussed the coup among ourselves, the Colonel naturally evolved from an orchestrator in the shadows to someone a lot more in our faces with personal goals and conflicts. The character of Colonel is actually from a different story: a colonel planning a coup but decides to run away with the money. So, we decided to bring him into this story.
Another thing we realized as writing evolved was that Colonel could be our conduit to help represent the flawed Nigerian elite and the flawed institution called Nigeria. His supposedly degrading house and the speech about colonial architecture are to get people to understand that Nigeria needs to be restructured and reimagined and move away from the structure left behind by the British if we want to forge our image for the future. The Colonel also represents Nigeria’s unwillingness to accept that change is needed. That’s why he is so confident that the house he bought for so much money must be good and functional structurally.
By the end of the movie, the audience is left with a couple of burning questions. Let’s start with your daughter, who is holding a gun on the movie poster. Was she really your daughter born into the con artist life, or is she just a con artist?
Temilolu: Ireti (Darasimi Nadi) is not my daughter. There is a bit in the final script that didn’t make it to the movie where I look at different pictures of girls who would play my daughter for this particular con. The house manager (Chukwu Martin) laid out the pictures for me to choose from. That’s how I picked her. I think it was done to create more mystery about the two characters, the man and the girl.
Isaac: She is not his daughter. Her real name is Salome, which was mentioned when they were trying to escape. The film is littered with clues that suggest clearly that Kunmi and Ireti are working together. Like I said initially, the story changed a lot. There’s a version of the story where we spend some time outside the Colonel’s secret home and provide some insight into who Kunmi really is. Here, we show that Ireti is not his daughter but is one of many kids available to con men for a certain fee. She is not an actress but a homeless kid in an orphanage. Kunmi goes to this unusual orphanage-like setup to rent Salome. And that is how she becomes Ireti. So, Salome is not Kunmi’s daughter; she is every bit as con as him, and they are in this together.
The Colonel’s mistress, Matilda (Ruby Precious Okezie), raised some questions for the audience. One minute, she is this timid, submissive woman; the next, she has a big dream of being a music star. How did you create this character, and what was your intention for her?
Isaac: Maltida is going through a lot. She has certain psychological conditions and is heavily medicated. At the beginning of the film, there’s a scene where she doesn’t use her medication and that is an attempt to foreshadow the erratic behavior she displays later on. Matilda is repressed. She’s a victim of emotional abuse. But she remains, like all of us, someone with a dream. While her dreams are valid, it’s clear that she’s not the most remarkable singer. Kunmi takes advantage of her naiveté (thanks to information gotten from Chinaza) and succeeds.
Another point of contention was that the Colonel was made out to be a top dog but only had two soldiers in the middle of a coup. Was that intentional on your part?
Isaac: You are not the first person to ask this question, and I think it’s interesting because I thought it was clear that the simple building isn’t the Colonel’s main home. In the phone conversation with Okoli (Deyemi Okanlawon), there were bits of their conversations that revealed that Basiru is married. Of course, this isn’t the Colonel’s main home. It’s an abode for a concubine he wants to keep hidden. And that’s why the house isn’t packed with security personnel. During her conversation with Kunmi early into the film, Maltida also mentioned that the Colonel only comes during the weekend.
There has been a lot of conversation about the open-ended closing. Why did you decide to end it that way?
Isaac: I have heard complaints about the ending and I get it. The open-ended nature is deliberate. It just didn’t feel right to be conclusive about any of the men. There’s a lingering feeling that, maybe, there’s still more to tell about them. Who knows? There’s also a valid argument that they all died in the dungeon.
Temilolu: The ending is brilliant. I believe the film ended satisfactorily because the only real victim is the girl, and she escaped with some money. The others are bloody criminals. Kunmi is a criminal, and the military man is a criminal, so their end is inconsequential. You can conclude that they all killed themselves inside that dungeon of criminals. Whatever happened to them is not our business. The person who needed saving was Matilda, and she got it. So, it was a fine ending. Ireti’s end is more sympathetic because she’s in the middle of everything. Her part in the criminality was not elaborate so she could get away. She’s a small girl; you can pity her, but these grown men can come to their end in the dungeon. So, it’s a good ending in that sense.
Would you do anything different if you could rewrite this story?
Isaac: I would keep the same ending; the only change I would make is to dedicate more time to Kunmi and his ‘daughter’. They didn’t spend enough time together. That was my first takeaway even before the movie came out. When it screened at the Africa International Film Festival (AFRIFF) last year, people liked it, and the reviews were great, but I told the director immediately that we should have given them more screen time. He agreed. I would have also liked to tweak some of the dialogue here and there. I would change nothing about the structural shape because I’m very comfortable with it. Another thing I would do is provide better context – especially for Kunmi and Chinaza – so the switch at the end by Kunmi is a lot more natural.
As the lead, is there anything you would do differently after watching the movie?
Temilolu: I had the same sentiment about Ireti’s character being underdeveloped when I saw it the first time. I think it posed some problems for Darasimi as well. After my first watch, I thought her role was the most difficult because she didn’t have enough material. As a fellow con artist in the house, when is she pretending? What are the undertones of her lines in certain moments? I think it was a bit difficult for her. I thought that she did brilliantly because she played it cold. She played it in the middle, which I thought was the best thing she could do. I think if she had more to bite into, that would have been brilliant, especially with the orphanage backstory. I feel like there are a few choices I could have made better as the mysterious Kunmi before switching to a criminal.
Now that A Green Fever is out. What’s next for you both?
Isaac: I’m currently working with Taiwo on our next film, which should commence shooting next month. It’s a neo-Western thriller with a lot of political undertones. I am excited because we get to dabble into topics we are passionate about.
Temilolu: Taiwo has spoken to me about playing a small role in the project. I’m always excited about working with them (Taiwo and Isaac). So I’m looking forward to that.
A Green Fever is now streaming exclusively on Prime Video.
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