Coming back to the world of Anikulapo in Season 2 felt like reopening a familiar storybook and discovering that several new chapters had been stuffed inside, some elegant and gripping, others a little overlong and uneven. This season, officially titled Anikulapo: Rise of the Spectre, builds directly on the events of the original film and pushes deeper into Yoruba cosmology, political intrigue, and moral reckoning. It’s an ambitious continuation that largely succeeds in expanding the scope of the story, even as it occasionally stumbles under the weight of its own ideas.
The season opens with Saro no longer alive in the conventional sense, now a reluctant messenger of death burdened with a terrifying task: repay the souls he once resurrected, or lose any chance at peace. This framing instantly gives the story emotional urgency. The Saro we meet here is no longer the swaggering opportunist from the early days of the franchise. He is cautious, haunted, and visibly worn down by regret. Kunle Remi leans into this transformation with impressive restraint. His performance feels grounded and lived-in, especially in scenes where Saro wrestles with the cost of his former arrogance. There’s a subtle vulnerability in his body language and voice that makes the character’s struggle deeply engaging, even when the narrative becomes crowded.
The world of Ojumo is also far more complex this time around. Power vacuums, political alliances, and personal vendettas collide in ways that steadily build tension. The introduction of Bashorun, a ruthless warlord obsessed with seizing supernatural authority, adds a sharp edge to the story. Owobo Ogunde plays him with a cold intensity that is both unsettling and captivating. His presence injects the series with a sense of danger that keeps the stakes high, especially as his ambitions begin to intersect with Saro’s already fragile mission.
One of the season’s biggest strengths lies in its visual storytelling. Kunle Afolayan’s direction continues to elevate the material through rich production design, thoughtful framing, and evocative use of natural landscapes. The series maintains a strong sense of place, grounding its fantasy elements in tangible textures—dusty village paths, torch-lit palaces, dense forests, and sacred spaces that feel ancient and lived-in. The cinematography often lingers just long enough to let you absorb the atmosphere, and the costume design remains consistently striking, reinforcing character hierarchies and cultural context without feeling ornamental.
Bimbo Ademoye’s Arolake undergoes one of the more surprising arcs this season. Her storyline, centered on sudden wealth and a complicated reunion with royal life, adds emotional texture but sometimes feels underdeveloped. While Ademoye brings warmth and sincerity to the role, the narrative choices around her character can seem rushed or oddly placed. At times, it feels as though her subplot exists more to move pieces across the board than to deepen her personal journey. Still, her scenes retain emotional resonance, particularly in moments where old wounds resurface and unresolved tensions come into play.
The writing, overall, is both the show’s greatest asset and its most persistent challenge. On one hand, the series is rich in thematic ambition. It explores guilt, destiny, power, love, sacrifice, and the cost of moral failure through multiple character lenses. The integration of Yoruba spirituality and folklore is handled with care and reverence, offering viewers something genuinely distinctive in the global fantasy television landscape. On the other hand, the narrative sometimes tries to juggle too many threads at once. Several subplots are introduced with promise but don’t always receive the development they deserve, leading to pacing issues and moments of narrative drift.
This overcrowding becomes most noticeable in the middle stretch of the season, where the momentum occasionally dips. Episodes that should feel propulsive instead linger on side conflicts that add limited narrative weight. While these detours aren’t without interest, they dilute the emotional focus on Saro’s central struggle. As a result, the series sometimes feels like it’s searching for its narrative center, even though the core story remains compelling.
Despite these issues, the supporting cast largely shines. Sola Sobowale brings her signature presence to Awarun, infusing the role with commanding authority and layered emotional nuance, even when the script leans toward theatricality. Gabriel Afolayan delivers a quietly strong performance, offering moments of tenderness and restraint that balance the show’s more dramatic flourishes. The ensemble work gives the series a sense of depth, making the political and emotional stakes feel tangible rather than abstract.
Another standout element is the show’s sound design and score. The music seamlessly blends traditional instrumentation with modern orchestral cues, reinforcing the mystical tone without overpowering the drama. Sound is used not merely as accompaniment but as narrative texture, heightening tension during supernatural encounters and adding emotional gravity to moments of personal reckoning.
That said, the season’s ending may leave some viewers divided. While it provides narrative closure on certain arcs, it also introduces fresh uncertainties that feel more perplexing than intriguing. Rather than offering a satisfying emotional release, the final moments lean heavily into ambiguity, which may frustrate viewers hoping for a clearer resolution. The cliffhanger approach works thematically, but structurally, it could have benefited from a more grounded emotional anchor.
Even with these narrative inconsistencies, what ultimately makes Season 2 engaging is its willingness to take risks. The series doesn’t settle for safe storytelling. It expands its mythos, complicates its characters, and deepens its philosophical questions. Not every experiment lands perfectly, but the ambition itself is admirable. Few fantasy series, especially outside the Western mainstream, attempt this scale of cultural specificity paired with genre storytelling, and Anikulapo deserves credit for carving out its own identity.
From a technical standpoint, the craftsmanship is consistently high. Editing is sharp, action sequences are choreographed with clarity, and the production design remains immersive throughout. These elements help carry the viewer through slower narrative patches, ensuring that the series never loses its aesthetic appeal.
What lingers most after finishing the season is not a single plot twist or spectacle, but the emotional weight of Saro’s journey. His struggle to reconcile his past sins with his present obligations forms the moral backbone of the series. It’s a story about consequence, humility, and the price of power, told with sincerity even when the pacing falters.
In the end, Anikulapo Season 2 is a confident, visually arresting continuation that deepens its mythological roots while grappling with structural overreach. It doesn’t always strike the perfect balance between scope and focus, but its strengths in performance, atmosphere, and thematic depth far outweigh its flaws. For viewers invested in richly textured fantasy grounded in cultural tradition, this season offers a rewarding, if occasionally uneven, experience that stays in the mind long after the final scene fades.
Final Score- [7/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times