A Country Called Ghana, a collaborative effort between Ghanaian and Nigerian filmmakers, sets out to weave a tale of cultural heritage, betrayal, and colonial-era intrigue. Directed by Frank Fiifi Gharbin, the film stars a mix of Ghana’s and Nigeria’s acting talent—including Ramsey Nouah, Victor Osuagwu, and Kwadwo Nkansah—in a story that blends love, mystery, and a warning against foreign exploitation. Yet, despite its ambitious premise and earnest themes, the film stumbles over uneven pacing, inconsistent production values, and a narrative that often loses its way, leaving audiences questioning whether its heart outweighs its flaws.
The film’s plot centers on a group of Westerners who infiltrate a remote Ghanaian village to steal a sacred totem, a symbol of cultural and spiritual significance. To achieve their goal, the outsiders pose as missionaries, recruiting a local English speaker—played by Kwadwo Nkansah—to aid their scheme. The story unfolds against the backdrop of colonial-era tensions, exploring themes of betrayal, cultural preservation, and the exploitation of Africa’s resources by outsiders.
On paper, the premise is compelling: a blend of adventure, moral conflict, and a call for Africans to protect their heritage. The film’s climax, which urges viewers to embrace self-belief and safeguard their traditions, is a noble attempt to spark dialogue about cultural identity. However, the execution falters in ways that overshadow its intentions.
One of the film’s strongest assets is its use of highlife music, a vibrant genre rooted in Ghana’s cultural heritage. The soundtrack seamlessly complements the film’s nostalgic, almost dreamlike visuals of village life, evoking a sense of timelessness. The music’s energy and authenticity provide a lifeline during moments when the narrative sags, offering a reminder of the story’s potential.
Unfortunately, the film’s technical shortcomings drag it down. The picture quality is uneven, with scenes that feel grainy or poorly lit, particularly in nighttime sequences where shadows swallow characters whole. The set design, meant to evoke a colonial-era village, lacks consistency, oscillating between periods in a way that confuses the timeline. The costumes, too, are a missed opportunity: actors’ attire shifts abruptly between eras, as if the wardrobe department assembled outfits without a clear vision. This inconsistency undermines the film’s credibility, making it hard to immerse in its world.
The film begins with promise, establishing a brisk pace that hooks viewers with its intriguing mystery. However, as the story progresses, it devolves into a slow, meandering journey punctuated by unnecessary subplots. The central plot—the theft of the totem—gets lost amid tangents involving romance, familial squabbles, and melodramatic confrontations that feel tacked on. By the midpoint, the narrative’s focus blurs, leaving audiences confused about what, exactly, they should care about.
The reviewer’s frustration is palpable: “The story was prolonged with some distractions that almost made me forget about the plot.” Scenes that could have deepened character motivations or heightened tension instead devolve into overwrought dialogue or underdeveloped conflicts, making the film feel like a series of disconnected vignettes rather than a cohesive story.
The cast delivers a mixed bag of performances. Kwadwo Nkansah shines as the English-speaking insider, bringing a quiet intensity to his role as the reluctant collaborator. His character’s internal conflict—caught between loyalty to his village and the allure of Western promises—is compelling, though his delivery occasionally borders on overacting, as if he’s trying too hard to convey depth.
Ramsey Nouah, a Nigerian veteran, plays the lead as Frank, a local leader who uncovers the foreigners’ plot. His presence adds gravitas, but his role feels underwritten, as if included primarily to attract audiences rather than serve the story. Other actors, like Victor Osuagwu and Charles Awurum, deliver solid performances, but the script’s weaknesses leave them little room to shine.
The film’s portrayal of Western characters as uniformly exploitative—obsessed with stealing Africa’s resources—risks oversimplification. While the critique of colonial greed is valid, reducing all outsiders to villains flattens the narrative, offering little nuance. This one-dimensional depiction, combined with the film’s uneven pacing, leaves the message feeling heavy-handed rather than thought-provoking.
The reviewer’s verdict is clear: “A Country Called Ghana is the kind of movie you sit and watch at home.” With its technical flaws and uneven storytelling, it lacks the polish needed to compete with bigger-budget films in theaters. The 5/10 rating reflects a recognition of its ambition and cultural resonance but also its failure to deliver a satisfying cinematic experience.
A Country Called Ghana is a film torn between its aspirations and its execution. Its themes of cultural pride and resistance are timely and important, and the collaboration between Ghanaian and Nigerian talent is a promising step toward deeper regional storytelling. Yet, the film’s technical shortcomings and narrative missteps prevent it from rising above mediocrity.
For all its flaws, the movie’s heart lies in its music and its call to preserve heritage—a message that resonates even when the story falters. Perhaps in future projects, the filmmakers will channel this energy into tighter storytelling and stronger production values. Until then, A Country Called Ghana remains a curiosity—a film that hints at greatness but ultimately leaves audiences wanting more.
