A Soft Thing in a Hard City
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Hi, I’m Alex Edo. Artdey absentmindedly handed me the password to the socials and newsletter, so naturally I’m going to use it to talk about colors, art and my emotional state at the same time.
Last night, I went to see Call of My Life by Dammy Twitch at the Lekki IMAX with a personal budget that was already under emotional pressure before the movie even started.
The cinema was full in the way only Lagos cinemas can be, couples sharing popcorn, friend groups shouting at the screen, strangers reacting together like everyone had arrived with the same emotional baggage. I sat there with the cheapest popcorn I could buy and a drink that still somehow felt overpriced, trying not to calculate how much money had already left my pocket before the movie even started. Then the lights dimmed…
Written by Uzoamaka Power (who also acted as Sol in the movie) and produced by Blessing Uzzi for Bluhouse Studios, Call of My Life follows Soluchi, a bright and emotionally open customer service call center agent trying to navigate love and adulthood without losing herself in the process. She finds herself caught between Eli, a Ghanaian news anchor settling into Nigeria, and Kalu, her wealthy ex, who once left her for being “too childish” before trying to win her back.
What stuck with me most about the film wasn’t just the romance. It was the way it treated Lagos like art. The colors throughout the movie were vivid and warm in a way that made familiar places feel almost newly discovered. Sol’s walks through Lekki and Ikoyi carried a softness that made the city feel lighter than it usually does in real life. The scenes with Kalu in the Yaba textile market were full of texture and movement, while the beach scenes felt intimate without trying too hard. Even the sadness at the train station near the end somehow looked beautiful in that quiet kind of way heartbreak sometimes does. The film is warm, colorful, and deeply alive
The soundtrack carries the story beautifully, the dialogue flows naturally, and the chemistry between the actors makes every emotional moment land gently instead of forcefully. Justin UG delivered the most compelling supporting performance for me; his character was funny, grounded, and memorable without trying too hard. Broda Shaggi also played his role effortlessly, bringing humor that never distracted from the heart of the story. Each aspect of the movie serves to elevate the story, basically painting a picture but on a much larger scale. I must admit, the character that stayed with me most was Sol herself.
There was something painfully familiar about watching someone fight to remain bright in a world constantly asking her to become harder. Her softness is treated like immaturity by some of the people around her. Still, the film quietly asks an important question: what if choosing to stay hopeful, expressive, and emotionally open is its own kind of strength?
I think that’s where the movie found me personally.
Living in Lagos can sometimes feel like a slow negotiation with your own tenderness. Everything here wants urgency from you. Toughness. Survival. Even while watching the movie, I found myself counting expenses in my head between scenes. By the climax, the couple sitting beside me had started their own quiet romance while I sat there realizing how rare softness can feel in everyday life, and maybe that’s why films like this matter.
Not because they help us escape reality completely, but because they remind us that there are still people trying to protect the gentler parts of themselves inside it. The movie also gives us an opportunity to rethink what beauty means in a city that we have learned to overlook its perks because we've known nothing else. To rethink what art means in a world where art becomes more commercialized.
If you’ve been needing something warm, visually beautiful, funny, and emotionally honest, go see Call of My Life. Check out their showtimes this week.
This also happens to be my first piece as the new voice behind artdey’s socials and newsletter, so it feels fitting to begin with art, emotion, and a room full of strangers trying to hold onto softness together.
— Alex Edo
P.S. Happy Clarissa Day if you are in Cannes at the moment!