Onobiren is an earnest story of women—women as friends and foes, women as problem-solvers and as emotional support systems, women as resilient beings, and women as both instruments and victims of gendered societal pressures.
By Vivian Nneka Nwajiaku
“The Fisherwoman” could be a good title for a Nigerian female-led, faith-based drama that centres on the story of a twentysomething-year-old with a booming fish-trading business. It would be an interesting play on the biblical fishermen whom Jesus used to change lives and whose circumstances he often turned around. It might even nod at another female-helmed African film—Ghana’s The Fisherman (2024), by writer-director Zoey Martinson—which featured a twentysomething-year-old female nautical engineer trying to buy a fishing boat despite being culturally excluded from the fishing business.
But the Nigerian film, directed by Famous Odion Iraoya (Finding Nina (2025); Last to Marry (2025)) from a screenplay by executive producer and pastor Laju Iren (Loving Amanda (2022); Last to Marry), is titled Onobiren (2026), subtitled “A Woman’s Story”. And to be fair, it is just as apt. “Onobiren” is the Itsekiri word for “woman”. And Onobiren, the film, is an earnest story of women—women as friends and foes, women as problem-solvers and as emotional support systems, women as resilient beings, and women as both instruments and victims of gendered societal pressures.
At the centre is Roli (Ruby Akubueze), a young woman whose training in fishing comes in handy in setting her up as a flourishing entrepreneur after a life of poverty marked by familial deaths and medical emergencies. Onobiren introduces Roli as a guest on Chude Jideonwo’s real-life show, #WithChude, flowing into a voiceover through which she recounts her life experiences, from a difficult childhood in a rural fishing community in Warri, Delta, to her search for greener pastures in Lagos, where a twist of fate changes her story.
But Roli is surrounded by women who shape her story and whose stories she influences in consequential ways. Mama Roli (Temitope Aje)’s interest in securing a dignified future for her daughter clashes with Roli’s autonomy, while Mama Temisan (Patience Ozokwor)’s desperation for a grandchild causes her to adopt Roli as a potential mistress for her married son, Temisan (Deyemi Okanlawon). And producer Onome Agesse plays Mama Dede, a powerful businesswoman in Roli’s hometown whose business model as a boatowner threatens Roli’s business and keeps the local fisherwomen perpetually indebted.
Then, there is Rebecca (Bisola Aiyeola), Mama Temisan’s daughter-in-law, whose years-long search for the fruit of the womb has put a strain on her marriage. It is the solidarity between Roli and Rebecca that turns both their circumstances around—along with those of the fisherwomen in Roli’s community, whose livelihoods are improved by Roli’s enterprising spirit and practical benevolence.
It is laudable how wide-ranging Iren’s conception of womanhood feels in Onobiren, and how the film subverts tropes typically adopted in Nollywood stories of this nature. In Onobiren, women are both heroes and villains, and they are more practical than saintly, for better or worse. The fact that the central relationship in the film is one of solidarity between women—whom Nollywood would typically pit against each other—makes Onobiren a refreshing experience. So too does the film’s atypical depiction of male allyship, from a doting father who takes his daughter deep-sea fishing in defiance of tradition, to gentle partners who step up to ease the path, including those who must learn and grow on the job.
Yet, Onobiren falls back on some of those worrisome tropes. The film opts for a one-dimensional villain in Mama Dede. And the legendary Patience Ozokwor is recruited for the wicked mother-in-law persona she was famous for in Nollywood’s previous filmmaking era, and she still embodies that “natural wickedness”, as the film itself describes.
It’s a conflicting approach. Ozokwor’s shtick remains compelling—simultaneously hilarious and heart-wrenching, a representation of reality for a number of women, and a nostalgic callback to Old Nollywood. But it is also a bit old, a return to tedious tropes we had hoped to leave behind. Thankfully, the film finds a way to temper this with a resolution that allows for growth and redemption.
Onobiren is faith-based, so such elements seep in occasionally, through themes of forgiveness, redemption, and supplication. That’s not to say it’s a bad thing. A faith-based film is a faith-based film. But it really is commendable how controlled Onobiren is, how the film manages to communicate without veering into overt religious propaganda.
Onobiren is no War Room (2015); it does not preach self-sacrificial endurance in the face of abuse and disrespect. It is no God Calling (2018), either. Resolutions in Onobiren are not inexplicable miracles, but a result of human efforts and compromises, albeit coupled with faith and divine intervention through human support.
Onobiren itself could have used more support to elevate its human efforts. It’s a pretty straightforward and mostly focused film, the kind that we usually have to beg Nollywood for. But it suffers from pacing and tonal imbalances. Some plot points drag on, while others are rushed through exposition dumps delivered via Roli’s voiceover and dialogue, lightening the emotional weight. And for a good part of its first half, before things begin to look up for the central character, the film can be quite a chore to get through.
Technically, Onobiren struggles. The more experienced actors put in decent shifts, at best, while the less experienced supporting cast never quite meet the moment. There are lapses in sound mixing, and the score borders on manipulative, working overtime to fill the emotional gaps the narrative leaves. The cinematography is competent, but for a film whose narrative choices reflect on life through water metaphors, camerawork that emphasises the value of water feels like low-hanging fruit that ought not to have been passed up.
Still, Onobiren is much more ambitious than Iren’s previous endeavours, which have mostly been TV movies. It is certainly an improvement on Iraoya’s last outing, the Nemsia-produced Finding Nina, at least in terms of storytelling. But technical flaws and writing inadequacies stand between Onobiren and the inspiring, cinematic tale it wants to tell. It does make an impression, but it should have been stirring.
Rating: 3.2/5
*Onobiren opened in Nigerian cinemas on 6th March 2026, ahead of International Women’s Day.
Vivian Nneka Nwajiaku is a writer and film critic writing from Lagos. She has a master’s degree in law but spends most of her time consuming, studying and discussing film and TV. She’s particularly concerned about what art has to say about society’s relationship with women. Connect with her on X @Nneka_Viv