Moses Inwang explores love, fraud and vengeance in ‘Devil is a Liar’‎

BY ABIOLA ADIGUN

Moses Inwang, the award-winning filmmaker celebrated for the daring drama Damage, returns to the global screen with Devil is a Liar, now streaming on Netflix. The film, which blends suspense, romance and betrayal, is more than just a glossy Nollywood thriller—it is a social commentary on the perils of love, trust, and vulnerability in a world where appearance often masks deep deception.

At the heart of the narrative is Adaora Philip (Nse Ikpe-Etim), a wealthy Lagos realtor whose world comes crashing down after she falls for Jaiye (James Gardiner), a charming but duplicitous fashion designer. Their whirlwind romance sweeps Adaora into a marriage that promises happiness but unravels into a nightmare of manipulation, fraud and emotional abuse. Jaiye’s coercion of Adaora into a life-changing abortion, followed by financial extortion and betrayal, underscores the film’s chilling exploration of how love can become a weapon in the wrong hands.

Adaora’s fall from grace culminates in imprisonment, where she encounters resilience and rebirth. Supported by a gritty fellow inmate played with conviction by Mercy Aigbe, Adaora reinvents herself, toughening up in preparation for a climactic confrontation. The explosive finale at a luxury resort exposes Jaiye and his accomplice Anna, laying bare the destructive power of greed and betrayal.

Nse Ikpe-Etim gives a career-defining performance—layering vulnerability, rage, and resilience in a role that demands emotional dexterity. Her ability to transition from a soft-hearted romantic to a hardened avenger elevates the film’s intensity. James Gardiner delivers equal weight on the other side of the spectrum, infusing Jaiye with charisma so persuasive that the audience almost forgives his treachery—until his mask slips. Mercy Aigbe, though in a supporting role, grounds the prison sequences with a raw authenticity that sharpens Adaora’s transformation arc.

Visually, Devil is a Liar is sleek and deliberate. The cinematography contrasts Lagos’ highbrow opulence with the starkness of prison life, amplifying the duality of Adaora’s journey. Costume and makeup design deserve recognition for their role in storytelling—particularly Nse Ikpe-Etim’s transformation from glamorous socialite to weary inmate. The score subtly underscores moments of suspense and despair without overwhelming the narrative.

Despite its strengths, the film stumbles in its middle act. Subplots involving warehouse scams and property liquidation dilute the tension rather than deepen it. Yemi Blaq’s lawyer character, while competently acted, feels underdeveloped, existing more as a plot device than a credible advocate. Additionally, the lack of a strong family presence around Adaora—a hallmark of Nigerian social life—weakens cultural authenticity and leaves her struggles feeling more isolated than they might realistically be.

What sets Devil is a Liar apart is its resonance beyond the screen. Moses Inwang’s film is a cautionary tale about emotional exploitation, financial manipulation, and the hidden risks many successful women face in their pursuit of love. It interrogates societal expectations that pressure single women into marriage, often blinding them to predatory intentions. In this way, the film mirrors real-life conversations in Lagos and other urban centers about gender, power, and trust.

With its gripping performances, sharp thematic focus, and stylish production, Devil is a Liar underscores Moses Inwang’s place among Nollywood’s most daring directors—one unafraid to spotlight society’s fault lines through cinema. While it falters in pacing, its emotional weight and cultural relevance make it a compelling addition to Nollywood’s growing Netflix catalogue.