Nollywood screen queen Omotola Jolade Ekeinde‘s new Reality TV show premiered on the 6th of December on MNet’s Africa Magic. And the reviews are out people! According to Africa Magic, Omotola: The Real Me had the highest number of viewers the channel has ever experienced for any other shows in history! But blogger Sheifunmi who watched the show in it’s entirety had a completely different (read that as negative) take on the show.
I didn’t watch the show…It completely slipped my mind, but I will make sure to tune in for future episodes.
In related news some hot new pictures of the mother of four has hit the interweb, the pictures are to promote her new show, see more pictures from the show and read Sheifunmi’s scathing review of Omotola: The Real Me after the jump
REVIEW OF OMOTOLA JALADE EKEINDE’S REALITY MESS… SORRY, SHOW by Sheifunmi
With its glamorous promos and outlandish launch, Omotola Jalande-Ekeinde’s brand new reality show was sure in getting a lot of buzz. She’s the voluptuous mother of 4 and wife of a pilot; nollywood screen goddess and what should have been a Grammy award winning bathroom singer, if she hadn’t dared to record a series of screeching mixed with the sounds of a dying cat and call it an album.
Its daring, this brave western idea of letting strangers behind a television into your personal life, and so we are intrigued into crossing our arms with curiosity through the 30mins running time. As it starts, we follow Omotola to Ghana; the gorgeous views captured by the crew is impressive but we begin to digress half way through when all that seems to beckon is her apparent affluence. She goes to give a speech in what was called the biggest church in Ghana, -flaunting her Hermes Birkin, in the company of her gentleman husband of course, and is welcomed like royalty. The church announces her arrival and the congregation surmounts to screaming fans at a film festival. We are led into a brief moment of praise and worship, with our professional-shower-singer, sorry, award winning singer, behind the microphone.
Her next appointment is to a radio station. A brief interview is given and her son (who apparently jets everywhere with her too) introduces himself. He appears to be camera shy, but then again, not everyone is born a Kardashian. His mother covers it up with her delightable smiles and gorgeous face.
Then they try to sell us that Omotola is indeed a phenomenal singer when she goes to meet a producer who gives her “his best beat”, and in seconds, gushes about how angelic her vocal cords are. Omotola, looking stunning, tells us from the booth that he’s the best, (side eye, Don Jazzy?) and she’s so glad about the meeting. Its arguable that his enthusiasm might have come as a shock to Omotola herself as she sat there with widened teeth and warm eyes, evidently basking in the euphoria of his plethoric commentaries.
Next, Omotola goes for a shoot. She tells us how she uses the best in the industry. The amazing Kelechi Amadi-Obi and one other boy work together and the result is a couple of fantastic photoshopped pictures for a magazine. In the busy day and life of a mogul indeed, she steps out on house hunting. We are not sure why, but she’s with a realtor looking at real estate ranging from $750,000- $1million in Ghana. More time is spent showing us the intricate architecture of this mansionette than Michael Jackson’s Thriller video and for the love of God, we don’t get why. A few jokes are tossed between the two and the annoying music from the post production stage irritate our senses to a jolt.
The realtor looks right into the camera as he speaks, sometimes its so awkward, like he’s reading the network news at night, but the diva has no problem. She even lay in the bath in one of the rooms he showed her to give us a peak of just how fun and easy going she is.
Omotola goes to the best spa, next. Obviously very exhausted from her busy day, she speaks to the owner, (her close friend of course) and demands the best treatment. We see the process and equipments and we must admit how relaxing it felt (not). The attendant tells Omotola to take off her robe and she goes, “but I’m naked”. That’s right Omotola. We really do need our clothes to get in the suana and receive high-end massages. Go on, step into the shower with your Louboutins too.
All these events are happening in Ghana and at the end of the long day, the diva returns to the warmth of her bed. Ostensibly, she relapses for so long that her assistant barge in the next morning into the house, screaming, drawing curtains apart and turning on light bulbs. First her audacity is interesting, till she goes right ahead into Omotola’s room and starts hitting her to wake up. “We are late. We have only 30mins”. This is so funny to watch. Its like an awful comedy and we are somewhat embarrassed by their seriousness. Omotola rubs her eyes off to the harsh sunlight, totally clueless (apparently) to her scheduled appointments. Next, “how did you get my keys. How did you get in?”. She is petrified as she asks and grabs the phone by her bedside and starts to dial. (Holdup, is she calling the popo to report a break-in or whaaat?) The assistant leaves the room but comes back in 2seconds and repeats this act again in the space of a minute. In the commentary, she tells us that her assistant is literally crazy. (Gurl. Are you tryn’ create some drama or what?) Let’s not go ahead to detail how evidently scripted that seemed. We wouldn’t want you all not to see “the real Omotola” now, would we?
The “busy day” that set Omotola’s assistant on miles of paranoia later turned out to be just a meeting with Miss Ghana (who in 50seconds idolizes Omotola, surprise), Shopping(at a high-price store, duh) and a boat ride(private and expensive, umm). Yes yes yes, say it. We did say it. WAIT, THAT IS IT? That was why her assistant came in freaking out like she just saw the ghost of Whitney Houston singing an acoustic version of I Will Always Love You? I know you don’t get it; we didn’t get it either.
So after 30mins, we really don’t get the whole point. Yes, Omotola Jalade-Ekeinde jets around with her family, gets her hair and skin done by the best beautician, has the best voice as testified by the music producer, spends her evenings on boats with the rude waves bathing her silk skin. The question is what next? Are we going to be tortured to this narcism every time, or will it just be a different location next week?
The production isn’t flawless, it has a need for little audio fitting here and there but the editing is applaudable. At least the crew knows which way they’re headed. The trick with reality shows too, is knowing how much real to put in a scene. When each step or breath in a conversation is shown, it just makes it seem dull (cc, the real estate scene which went on and on and on and on and on like Titanic). If this were a documentary of some sort, the clenched fist of criticism would have been deflated, but this is a reality show. We have to believe it is real; that Omotola’s obnoxious assistant lacks tact and prudence; that Omotola spends her day on a boat with her assistant taking pictures and sipping from glasses.
Here’s our closing deal: if its going to be only Omotola, every other week, shopping at every other mall or having every other appearances to meet up, then we would rather count the stars at night. Its an average debut; not strong enough to pull viewers back, except those with the strong instinct to ridicule the reality mess, sorry, show.
For its title, “The Real Me”, Omotola Jalade Ekeinde ironically, isn’t showing us the Real Her, just a bunch of rehearsed orderliness and meaningless routines.