Ms Kanyin is Nollywood’s latest attempt to revisit and reimagine one of the most enduring myths in Nigerian boarding school folklore: the myth of Madam Koikoi.
For decades, Madam Koikoi has haunted the corridors of Nigerian secondary schools, not just in whispered bedtime stories but also in pop culture references, street lore, and the imaginations of adolescents who believed in the possibility of the supernatural lurking in their hostels. The myth is as specific as it is widespread: a woman, often dressed in red with high heels, walks the night in deserted school blocks, her heels making the distinctive koi koi sound that heralds her approach.
When Amara (Temi Otedola) checks her mock result and sees a C in French, she becomes, at first, dejected and later desperate to do everything possible to get an A in the actual WAEC exam. By sheer luck, she discovers that the question papers are in the custody of her French teacher, Ms Kanyin (Michelle Dede). Driven by desperation, Amara attempts to emotionally manipulate her teacher but fails. That failure propels her to transgress her once upright moral compass. Alongside her four friends, Lami (Damilola Bolarinde), Uti (Natse Jemide), Findetae (Kanaga Eme Jnr), Fiona (Aduke Shittabey), and Chisom (Toluwani George), she orchestrates a break-in into Ms Kanyin’s house to steal the papers. But the plan fails, and everything begins to spiral. After that, Ms Kanyin suddenly goes missing, and Lami mysteriously dies not long after. A chilling unease creeps over the students. The sequence of eerie events suggests one thing: something sinister has been awakened and is lurking.
Now, this storyline had every potential to grip us: a desperate student, a teacher with teething problems, an eerie school environment, and supernatural consequences. But Ms Kanyin fumbles the execution. It tries to blend teen suspense, supernatural horror, and moral commentary, but ends up doing none effectively. What we get is a narrative that wavers between showing us life in a Nigerian boarding school and hinting at horror, without immersing us in either world.
Before Ms Kanyin, there was The Origin: Madam Koikoi, a film that drew on a deeply rooted Nigerian urban legend. That film, though not perfect, felt more grounded in myth. It built tension gradually and leaned into the eeriness of its lore. Ms Kanyin, however, doesn’t go deep enough. We are told there’s a haunted tree and a vengeful spirit, but we are not taken through the emotional or historical weight of that haunting. The horror is surface-level in that there is little suspense, no atmosphere of dread, no slow-burn build-up that good thrillers or horror films rely on.
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Instead, the film gives us hurried glimpses in flashes of characters and school routines that feel stitched together. The first thirty minutes, especially, are a hodgepodge of sketchy introductions. There’s a scene where the principal, just after biting into a lump of akara, slips on dog poop and starts yelling at Chisom as though she were responsible. The scene, although seemingly comic, leaves you asking: what purpose does this serve? Scenes like this, and many others, such as the teacher gossiping in the staff room, feel like filler, not part of a coherent story. They neither serve character development nor deepen the plot.
And this is where a comparison with other Nollywood titles like Wildflower, King of Boys, or even Gangs of Lagos becomes useful. These are films where character and plot are developed side by side where the leads are flawed yet compelling, and we are drawn into their emotional journeys, whether to root for them or to loathe them. In Ms Kanyin, however, even the titular character, Kanyin the French teacher, fails to deliver a standout performance. She is portrayed as that typical French teacher who rarely speaks beyond basic classroom phrases—I personally expected more depth, more actual French, more conviction. That absence may be the script’s fault, but it limits her presence on screen.
Her character also swings between extremes, at times portrayed as stern and authoritative, and at other times oddly soft or withdrawn. This inconsistency becomes especially noticeable during a scene where she is sexually harassed by a student’s parent. Instead of standing up or offering a verbal response, she remains silent. That moment had the potential to be powerful being that her silence could have been framed as a deliberate response shaped by fear, exhaustion, or prior trauma, showing us insight into how women in authority can still be vulnerable in patriarchal spaces. But the film does not explore this silence; it leaves it hanging without context or emotional framing, and as a result, it feels less like subtle character depth and more like a scripting gap. We’re left unsure whether to see her as repressed, broken, complicit, or simply underwritten.
Also, the character of Amara remains mostly flat. Temi Otedola, who gave a more immersive performance in Citation, seems restricted here. Whether it’s the script or the direction, her portrayal lacks emotional weight. She shows distress but doesn’t embody desperation. In contrast, Chisom (Toluwani George) comes off more believable in her reactions and expressions. She doesn’t need to overdo anything. Her performance feels natural and unforced.
Mr. Mustapha (Ademola Adedoyin) is another saving grace. With a soft-spoken demeanour and subtle use of his Hausa accent, his performance brings a kind of calmness and realism that is missing in the rest of the ensemble. The principal (Kalu Ikeagwu), though physically fitting for the role, meanders between comic relief and forced authority, and the inconsistency in tone sometimes hurts the flow of the film.
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Visually, the film plays it safe. The cinematography is neat but uninspired. For a movie leaning into the supernatural, there are no memorable shots or sound designs that build suspense. Compare this with King of Boys, where even silence can be intimidating, or Ile Owo, where darkness is a character on its own. Here, the horror is suggested but not felt.
Thematically, the film gestures toward ideas like academic pressure, broken moral codes, adolescent rebellion, but none are fully explored. It scratches the surface of friendship, rivalry, and even staffroom politics, but it all feels fragmented. The budding romance between Mr Mustapha and Ms Kanyin could have added depth or emotional weight, but it is only hinted at. There’s no real tension, no emotional payoff.
Most disappointing, however, is the film’s treatment of its own central mystery. The haunted tree, a literal root of evil, is dropped on us with no historical context, no flashback, no mythic backstory. Why is it there? Why does it demand blood? A myth without mythology cannot sustain interest. If Ms Kanyin had taken cues from The Origin: Madam Koikoi, it could have built a story that leans heavily on oral tradition, school folklore, or ancestral curses. Instead, it leaves us with a haunting that is neither scary nor memorable.
In the end, Ms Kanyin is not a bad attempt. It is simply an undercooked one. It had the elements: a fairly decent cast, a promising premise, and a setting ripe for dread. But it lacked commitment to tone, to theme, and to storytelling. It tries to be a school drama, a moral tale, and a horror film all at once—and ends up achieving little in each direction. It is a movie you watch, and nothing sticks with you after. Not the fear, not the moral, not even the characters.
