On Collision Course and Its Conversation on Healing 

Yinka Olatunbosun

Just name it: Racism. Apartheid. Police Brutality. All these socio-political problems have roots in the oppression of the other. In every civilised society, such oppression is met by resistance. And the resistance may well become a movement. 

The 2020 EndSARS protest in Nigeria gave the historical context to the 2021 movie now on Netflix, which is titled Collision Course. A Bolanle Austen-Peters’ Production, it represents a cinematic healing for Nigerians living in a country where extortion, intimidation, battery and in some cases killings of innocent citizens have been largely reported and, perhaps, institutionalised. 

Like the South African playwright Athol Fugard, the story of Collision Course typifies the protagonist-antagonist motif. The plot is built on the story of an up-and-coming musician from an affluent home, Mide (Daniel Etim Effiong), who against his father’s wish pursues a music career despite obtaining his law degree. His supportive girlfriend (BamBam) carrying their unborn child is with him one night while returning home from a gig. 

On the flip side, Magnus (Kelechi Udegbe) is an impoverished police officer who aspires to join the TARZ unit (a play on SARS) in order to earn more and improve the quality of life of his family members. In his quest to join the TARZ unit, he discovers the rot in the police, perhaps a little too late. His integrity and conscience will have to be sacrificed for material gain.   

Embittered by the frustration of being trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea, Magnus becomes a dare-devil on the streets. He is no longer concerned about the protection of lives and properties. His gun which should be an object of protection has become a tool of oppression. 

Every passenger in a moving car is a suspect. He becomes the foot soldier for an almost occultic group in the police in search of scapegoats who refuse to give bribes or show vehicular documents promptly. His path collides with Mide-the high point of conflict of the drama.  

No doubt, the story is crisp with every bit believable. Its dissolve into real life footage of the EndSARS protest is a subtle yet unprovocative commentary on the lost lives to police brutality.

Collision Course in itself may potentially be at loggerheads with reason as one may argue that not every case of police killings of citizens is a product of accidental discharge. Policemen are trained to handle firearms, restrain someone who runs afoul of the law. Expectedly, they know what to do when provoked. And they know what can distort their sense of judgment, namely alcohol. Yet, many uniformed policemen have been seen at pubs or found reeking of alcohol.

The story in the movie may have helped to create a mutual understanding between the Nigeria police and the citizens, but it certainly cannot justify the ruthless killings with the clear omission of the place of justice in societal reform. Reconciliation, restitution and reform are part of what should complete the narrative in reels and real life. 

Also, while Mide may represent millions of Nigerian youths with legitimate ambition and dreams, there are indeed real criminals on the loose who on a daily basis are working hard to bastardise the good image of the country. And they have role models among the older generations who take advantage of their various positions of authority to steal money.

Indeed, Collision Course may have scratched the issue of corruption in the police on the surface, constraining the screen time to 80 minutes, but it has cautiously opened up the conversation on healing.