While Kash Money boasts a cast of notable individuals, its painfully dated tropes threaten a paralyzing boredom, and the series almost becomes hilarious in the ineptitude in its plot.
By Frank Njugi
The late American film critic Pauline Kael, widely regarded as the most brilliantly ad hoc critic of her time, is well-known for her views in the famous essay, Trash, Art, and the Movies, where she argued that most of the films we enjoy as humans are not ‘works of art.’ She believed that movies don’t have to be great; they can be silly and empty, yet still offer the joy of a good performance or even just a memorable line.
In today’s streaming era, where the majority of our access to films is through digital platforms offering instant, on-demand viewing, Kael’s philosophy feels especially relevant. The latest Kenyan production on Netflix, the leading on-demand viewing platform, Kash Money, seems to lean too heavily on this philosophy, as its hollowness underscores the idea that films are merely products for mass consumption rather than meaningful artistic expressions.
Kash Money is a new six-episode series produced by Insignia Productions, with Grace Kahaki serving as co-producer and director alongside Phil Bresson. The two filmmakers enlist a star-studded cast of renowned actors and personalities, including Kenyan media icons, Janet Mbugua and Joey Muthengi, singer-songwriter, Sanaipei Tande, as well as veteran Kenyan actors and journalists, John Sibi-Okumu and Oliver Litondo.
Kash Money opens with an elderly man, played by Oliver Litondo, narrating a story to children about a patriarch named Joe Njenga (portrayed by John Sibi-Okumu), whom he calls ‘Trickster’. Across the six episodes, the grandfather recounts Njenga’s relentless, chip-on-the-shoulder attitude and the dynamics of his family, who embody a ‘kill or be killed’ ethos.
Each episode is titled after a Swahili proverb, perhaps as an attempt to root the series in authenticity by drawing on cultural wisdom. For example, the proverb for the third episode is “Utavuna Ulichopanda”, which translates to “You’ll reap what you sow”. In this episode, Njenga is murdered by an unknown assailant, reflecting the essence of the proverb.
However, the use of these proverbs soon reveals itself to be more of a superficial gesture, as the series’ glaring flaws overshadow this effort, leaving a disappointing impression.
For instance, there is an excessive amount of vulgarity for a story being narrated to children—characters frequently use the f-word—and the inclusion of gratuitous sex scenes at the start adds nothing to the plot. These elements feel like gimmicks designed to grab attention rather than contributing meaningfully to the narrative.
In one scene from the second episode, three people attempt to kill Njenga simultaneously. His daughter (played by Amara Tari) and his wife (played by Sanaipei Tande) both poison him at the same time, while the wife’s boyfriend (played by Shiv Singh) chases him in a car with the intent to kill.
The script breezily dismisses the absurdity of these coincidences, making the sequence so far-fetched that viewers are left questioning how they were meant to take it seriously.
After Njenga’s death in the third episode, Kash Money leans heavily on every hackneyed trope of a family drama, from inheritance disputes to hidden secrets, resulting in a predictable spectacle.
The filmmakers fail to inject any innovation into the narrative, instead relying on these overused clichés to tell an all-too-familiar story. To make matters worse, the introduction of another tired rags-to-riches arc involving a long-lost child who suddenly inherits everything only further highlights the lack of originality.
While Kash Money boasts a cast of notable individuals, its painfully outdated tropes risk inducing paralysing boredom, with the series occasionally veering into unintentional hilarity due to the ineptitude of its plot.
The actors, despite their evident talent, seem constrained by a poor script riddled with plot holes that are casually brushed aside—such as an incestuous relationship revealed at the beginning but never fully addressed, with the characters involved continuing to see each other.
Additionally, the actors appear shackled by small ideas and overly didactic, occasionally imprecise dialogue, which forces viewers to fill in the gaps—a demanding and exhausting experience rather than an engaging one. Interactions between the characters often feel like long, awkward lapses in tone and natural human behaviour.
In the end, the old man narrating the story is revealed to be Njenga’s brother and a participant in his murder, bringing the series full circle with a twist. However, the glaring shortcomings endured throughout the narrative ultimately diminish the impact of the reveal, leaving viewers less appreciative of its subtle cleverness.
Further amplifying the misgivings of the scene with the final twist is a flashback to five decades ago, where the inclusion of modern technology like smartphones highlights a glaring inaccuracy, showing a lack of attention to historical detail or thoughtful consideration in the production.
The caveat to discussing all that is bad about a production with little to delight, is at least giving respect to the effort that went into making it. The cinematography of the series is first-rate. The filmmakers make full use of modern cinematographic techniques—perhaps indicative of the resources available to them—blending cutting-edge digital technology with stunning visual effects to craft immersive and visually dynamic scenes.
Unfortunately, this as well has a downside as there is use of some CGI–VFX graphics that look A.I generated which while showcasing use of advanced modern technology, ultimately detract from the scenes. They make them feel artificial and less immersive than if more practical effects had been used instead.
All in all, the most striking takeaway from Kash Money is how it highlights a central issue plaguing the African film industry in recent times: the lack of strong scripts and narratives with real depth. Too often, the industry opts for shallow plots that prioritise spectacle over meaningful storytelling, despite Africa being home to some of the world’s most extraordinary storytellers and narrative writers.
This Insignia production show proves that the Kenyan and East African film industry as well might be suffering from this epidemic. As it is clearly evident with Kash Money, without prioritizing impactful narratives and stories, our film industry might be becoming egregious financial leakages, as the ones with resources at disposal lack engaging narrative, arcs, or characters.
If there were a simpler way to describe the Kash Money production, it would be the best ensemble of Kenyan actors in a truly terrible, but well-funded, project. The series makes you look back with nostalgia at the worst cinematic productions you’ve ever seen, because it surpasses them.
However, perhaps the shoddy storytelling and muddled themes of Kash Money would be more tolerable if they weren’t perpetually present throughout all six episodes.
Rating 1.0/5
Frank Njugi is a Kenyan Writer, Culture journalist and Critic who has written on the East African and African culture scene for platforms such as Debunk Media, Republic Journal, Sinema Focus, Culture Africa, Drummr Africa, The Elephant, Wakilisha Africa, The Moveee, Africa in Dialogue, Afrocritik and others. He tweets as @franknjugi.