In a cinematic landscape increasingly populated with action-heavy blockbusters and sentimental love stories, Landline(2025) stands out as a rare psychological thriller from Nollywood that masterfully balances suspense, emotion, and existential dread. Directed by Dele Doherty, Landline is a gripping narrative that asks its audience: how far would you go to save the one you love—again, and again, and again?
At the heart of this thriller is Bucci Franklin’s riveting portrayal of a stranded military sergeant who stumbles upon an old landline in an abandoned house. From the moment it rings, the story unfolds into a chilling loop of time-bending twists. Each call from the mysterious line warns him of impending danger to his pregnant wife (played with compelling grace by Zainab Balogun), sending him on a repeated mission to rescue her from a relentless, faceless killer. However, no matter how hard he tries, she dies—again and again.
What makes Landline more than just a thriller is how it laces its narrative with themes of trauma, guilt, memory, and fate. It’s a film that leans into the chaos of uncertainty but never lets go of emotional clarity. Through recurring flashbacks and nightmare logic, the protagonist isn’t just fighting a killer—he’s also battling the past, wrestling with loss, and ultimately, himself.
Dele Doherty’s direction is crisp and haunting. The way he uses the repetitive time-loop trope doesn’t feel overused or gimmicky. Instead, the monotony of the loop becomes a metaphor for grief and PTSD. There’s a lingering sense that the protagonist is stuck—not just in time, but emotionally and spiritually. This emotional layering gives the film its psychological depth.
The cinematography heightens the experience. With moody lighting, disorienting camera angles, and jarring transitions, viewers are plunged into the same unsettling rhythm as the protagonist. Each reset of the loop is subtly different—sometimes more violent, sometimes more tender—forcing the audience to look closely and feel deeply.
Gabriel Afolayan’s supporting role as Kola, a friend caught between loyalty and disbelief, provides a grounded foil to the unraveling reality around them. He injects a necessary human balance that brings context and warmth to an otherwise shadowy story.
One of the film’s most innovative aspects is its sound design. The landline’s ring—a seemingly simple device—becomes a character of its own. Its sound triggers tension, and its silence creates dread. Combined with the sparse yet poignant musical score, the auditory world of Landline is as potent as its visual storytelling.
But perhaps the greatest achievement of Landline is how it uses genre to reflect deeper realities in Nigerian life. While the film is packed with supernatural elements and psychological horror, it is firmly grounded in recognizable emotional truths: the helplessness of love, the terror of loss, the trap of responsibility, and the yearning for closure. These universal concerns are made personal through its African lens—military pressures, societal expectations, and familial bonds are all deftly woven into the story.
In just under 90 minutes, Landline manages to say more about grief and redemption than many longer dramas. It’s a film that will likely be rewatched not just because of its thrilling plot, but because viewers will want to unpack its layers. Every loop reveals something new—about the characters and about ourselves.
In a time when Nollywood is evolving into bold new territories, Landline marks a significant step forward. It’s a smart, emotionally resonant film that deserves its place in the conversation around the best African releases of 2025. And perhaps, most importantly, it reminds us that even when life loops back on itself, the choices we make—however small—can echo across time.
