Fiifi Coleman Productions staged an adaptation of Bob Cole’s I Told You So at the National Theatre of Ghana as part of Ghana’s 69th Independence anniversary celebrations (5th–8th March, 2026).
The production served as both a cultural celebration and a pointed artistic statement. Originally produced as a film in the 1970s by the late Bob Cole, this satire was reimagined for a contemporary Ghanaian audience without forgoing the timeless moral structure that made the original so beloved.
Fiifi’s production is a bold, layered interrogation of love, identity, generational conflict, and the enduring tension between tradition and modernity in post-colonial Ghana.
The choice to premiere the production as part of the Independence activities was itself a deliberate act of meaning-making. At a moment when Ghanaians reflect on nationhood and values, Fiifi offered a story about what we choose to preserve and what we dare to discard; making us reflect on who pays the price when wisdom goes unheeded.
The Story
At the heart of the production is Kobina Jones (Jude Kurankye), a man who returns home after years abroad, carrying hopes of love, identity, and reconnection. The world he meets, however, is more complicated than the one he left.
The play’s central conflict is catalysed by young Rosina, whose rejection of her father’s guidance in matters of marriage ignites the drama. Rosina functions as a potent metaphor for the steep price paid when wisdom and counsel go unheeded.
Rosina’s father (played by Gyedu-Blay Ambolley) passionately opposes her intended marriage to a wealthy suitor, insisting with conviction that he would rather see his educated daughter wed a man of modest means—firmly believing that poverty, paradoxically, is the soil in which peaceful homes grow.
His position, stubborn and yet strangely principled, becomes the moral fulcrum of the entire production. The comedy breathes through this irony: the father’s well-intentioned warnings, repeatedly ignored, prove prophetic — a fact the title, I Told You So, makes gleefully explicit.
The play navigates a rich thematic landscape — love and marriage, family expectation, social responsibility, and the friction between tradition and modernity — handling each with enough nuance to feel both locally grounded and universally resonant.
These are Ghanaian stories told in a Ghanaian voice, yet their emotional truth reaches far beyond their setting. A father’s wisdom, a daughter’s defiance, and the comedy of consequence.
Staging
Fiifi exerts his authority and directorial command from the outset. The production benefits from a multi-location staging strategy, with scenes shifting between home, public spaces, and palace settings. The demands of these multiple locations do create occasional transitional delays that disrupt the pace, though these are partially smoothed over by thoughtfully curated transitional songs, which serve both a narrative and an atmospheric function.
One of the evening’s most creative staging decisions was the cameo appearance of Deaconess Abokomah and her ‘sister’, who entered directly from the main entrance through the audience—a departure from the conventional wing entries of other characters.
This immersive gesture broke the fourth wall, catching the crowd off-guard and generating genuine energy. The theatrical risk worked well for Fiifi, keeping his audience actively engaged rather than passively entertained.
The production also carries a knowing contemporary flair, with references to current Ghanaian terminology and pop culture. Most notably, nods to King Paluta’s Akoma and Samini’s S3 Obi D)wo aa, among other contemporary tunes, grounded the narrative in the present without diminishing its historical resonance.
Performance
Fiifi’s casting strategy, a fusion of old-school veterans and millennial talents, is one of the production’s most distinctive and successful choices. Gyedu-Blay Ambolley anchors the production as Rosina’s father with measured steps and unhurried authority.
His pacing, deliberately slow and almost stately, risks losing momentum, but ultimately serves the character’s unwavering moral certainty. His most resonant contribution, however, is the moment he carries the thematic title of the production itself.
When the truth is finally laid bare—that Kobina Jones had stolen diamonds and fled to Agege in Nigeria, only to return years later draped in the respectability of wealth—it is Ambolley who re-echoes the damning verdict to the gathered townsfolk: I Told You So.
The line lands with the full force of a man who has been right all along and has earned every syllable of it. It is the moral culmination of the entire play, and Ambolley delivers it with the quiet, devastating authority of a patriarch vindicated.
A standout moment also arrives with the collective singing of Mmbaa pe sokoo, which he leads, and which ripples out into the audience in a moment of shared communal joy that feels both spontaneous and earned.
Fred Amugi brings his characteristically warm gravitas to the production, lending weight to the older generation’s perspective. In contrast, Clemento Suarez arrives like a thunderstorm—quick, lyrical, buoyant, and electric.
His entry is a masterclass in comic timing, deploying proverbs and rhyming wordplay with a rapper’s rhythm and a griot’s wisdom. His “shading” of recognizable political figures adds a subversive undercurrent that the audience clearly savoured.
The leads, Kwabena Jones and Rosina, sing with genuine warmth in the opening scenes, and their vocal performances carry emotional weight and dramatic stakes in equal measure. Buche and Wofa Kay contribute solid supporting turns that round out the ensemble’s generational texture.
Interestingly, the most outstanding performer of the evening is Mr. Beautiful, who plays Osuo Aborbuo, also known as the Chief Letter Writer.
Mr. Beautiful, the celebrated Ghanaian film actor, makes what is presumably his maiden appearance in a stage production, and this debut announces his authority. Fiifi describes Osuo Aborbuo as a man of immense self-belief: he arrives presenting himself as the Chief Letter
Writer of the community [Accra], a title he wears with the full dignity of a man who considers literacy a form of nobility. His suitcase boldly proclaims this with the inscription I DON’T FEAR HUU — not merely a prop, but a declaration of character.
The house erupts when he confidently recites it aloud, chest out, whilst making his case for the marriage. The moment distils everything Osuo Aborbuo represents: bravado dressed as confidence; ambition dressed as qualification.
It is precisely the kind of detail that separates a good comic role from a truly memorable one. Mr. Beautiful inhabits it completely, and for a Ghanaian film audience seeing a beloved screen face command a live stage for the first time, it was a genuinely thrilling debut.
Music and Dance
The band led by Mr. Edmunson Sam Jnr. deserves considerable praise. Solid throughout, they provide not merely accompaniment but narrative force.
Their presence is felt in every transition, every tonal shift, every moment in which words yield to music. For instance, the inclusion of Samini’s S3 obi d) wo aa [odo] within the musical landscape was a shrewd choice, bridging generational sensibilities with a song that carries both nostalgia and contemporary currency.
A special moment worthy of mention that night is the nostalgic community singing of the choruses for Mi ko kabi, Mi Nya Amani and 3dwen d3 3r3ye emi. This speaks to how deeply rooted these songs are in collective memory.
The choreography follows the production’s overarching philosophy: a deliberate fusion of the old and the new.
Traditional movement vocabularies are woven into contemporary idioms in a way that feels organic rather than grafted, reflecting Fiifi’s broader vision of a Ghana in productive conversation with its own past.
The result is a kinetic language that speaks across age groups, no small feat in a production that is itself an argument for intergenerational dialogue.
Production Elements
The attention given to the costume design is attention well spent. The wardrobe honours Ghanaian sartorial tradition in a manner befitting the Independence season; thus, in its fabrics, colours, and silhouettes, the production is firmly placed within its cultural moment. Pride is woven into every choice, communicating character and era with both economy and elegance.
Physical comedy and ensemble movement form an essential part of this production’s visual identity. The phrase “the body is bodying,” sparked by one cast member and instantly echoed across the ensemble, was not merely playful; it was apt. These performers bring full physical commitment to their roles, making the production a feast for the eyes as much as the ears.
Access, Community, and Belonging
It is worth pausing to acknowledge a gesture that extends beyond the production itself. Opening night was offered free of charge to audience members above the age of sixty, a policy that Fiifi Coleman Productions has adopted for all its future productions.
In a cultural landscape where the economics of live theatre can exclude the very audiences whose lived experience enriches such work, this commitment to access is not merely admirable; it is a statement of values.
The elders in the house on 5th March brought with them a quality of reception, laughter seasoned with recognition, appreciation deepened by memory, that elevated the evening for everyone present.
One area that warrants frank discussion is the running of advertisements on the projector screens during the live performance. To put it plainly: this is disruptive. When a production is in full flow and a commercial appears on screen, audience focus is broken.
The carefully built dramatic spell is punctured at the very moment it should hold. Theatre, unlike television or cinema, depends on an unbroken contract of attention between performer and audience. Anything that competes with that contract works against the production itself.
This is not an argument against sponsorship or advertising, far from it. Promoters and corporate partners are essential to the financial sustainability of theatre productions in Ghana, and their investment must be encouraged and celebrated.
As a suggestion, advertisements should be screened before the performance begins, during intermission, and after the curtain call. These are natural breaks in audience attention, and they offer advertisers meaningful visibility without cannibalizing the experience they are helping to fund.
This, I believe, protects the integrity of the work while keeping the commercial relationship intact.
Closing Thoughts
I Told You So is a production that earns every word of its title. Fiifi Coleman has returned a beloved cultural artefact to the stage with vigour and integrity, neither softening its edges nor blunting its critique. The meeting of theatrical generations — Ambolley and Amugi alongside Suarez, Buche, Wofa Kay, and Abokomah — makes for a production that holds the Ghana of memory and the Ghana of the present in careful, deliberate tension.
It is funny, moving, occasionally uneven, and consistently alive. The National Theatre of Ghana and Fiifi Coleman Productions are to be commended for making this year’s Independence celebration not merely an occasion for spectacle, but for reflection. I Told You So is well worth your time.
“A piece of creative work in the class of the classics. Creative Arts needs all the patronage necessary. I TOLD YOU SO! Not just the theme; the plot, the art, the message, the acting, the morale for a people! Local concert is back.
The writer is an Artistic Director, Theatre, University of Education, Winneba
Source:
www.graphic.com.gh