Class, Culture and Capital: A Marxist reading of LionHeart

 

Marxist Critique of Lionheart

Class, power, and the control of economic structures form the basics of Marxist theory, and Genevieve Nnaji’s Lionheart is a fascinating case study in how these ideas play out within a Nigerian capitalist framework. In this film, we watch how economic capital determines social standing, opportunity, and identity. The story, which centers on Adaeze Obiagu’s efforts to save her family’s transportation company, is not just a tale of family loyalty, it’s a subtle exploration of class, privilege, and access to power. Through a Marxist lens, Lionheart reveals the workings of a corporate elite and how wealth shields certain characters from the harsher realities of Nigerian life.

First, the film subtly shows how the capitalist class holds and protects economic power. Adaeze’s family owns a well-established Transportation company, a business large enough to be threatened by a takeover from another company and attract government contracts. The Obiagus are part of Nigeria’s corporate bourgeoisie (a Marxist term for the wealthy or the Haves), and even though the narrative portrays them as moral and principled, their power is undeniable. They operate in a world where elite relationships, networking, and social capital are more important than public accountability. For example, when Lionheart faces a financial crisis, the immediate solution is not to appeal to banks or restructure, it’s to find powerful allies like Maikano Motors, another rich transportation industry, or negotiate deals that only people in their social class can access. Ordinary Nigerians facing bankruptcy wouldn’t have these options. The Obiagus’ wealth cushions them, allows them time to strategize, and gives them influence over decisions others wouldn’t even be invited to.

Furthermore, the film shows corporate capitalism while overlooking the working class and labor force. The drivers, clerks, cleaners, and other essential workers of Lionheart Transport barely feature in the story. Except when at the beginning if the movie, they were being beaten by thugs, their voices are silent, their concerns invisible. We never see them unionize or protest or even offer perspectives on the looming financial collapse. All decision-making occurs at the top, among the executives. This reflects a capitalist ideology where workers are mere tools, cogs in a machine, not real agents with economic desires or political power. From a Marxist viewpoint, this is deeply problematic. It reinforces the idea that only the rich and educated matter in the economic narrative. Adaeze is admirable, but even her kindness doesn’t challenge the broader system that keeps workers voiceless.

Another key Marxist insight is the illusion of class mobility, and how good merits and character is framed as the path to success. Adaeze is positioned as competent, brilliant, and forward-thinking, traits that, in theory, should be enough for success. But in reality, her access to education, experience, and corporate culture all come from her class background. She didn’t rise from poverty, she was born into wealth and mentored by her father, Chief Ernest. The film glosses over this. It tries to suggest that Adaeze is “fighting” for her place, but the truth is that her privileges paved her way. In the real world, thousands of equally smart Nigerian women, without her connections, struggle to even find employment. Lionheart doesn’t highlight this, instead, it upholds the fantasy that anyone can succeed with hard work and determination, ignoring the economic structures that prevent that for the masses.

In addition, the film’s conflict between Lionheart Transport and Igwe Pascal’s company is portrayed as a moral battle, but it also reflects deeper capitalist competition and class interest. Pascal is not the villain because he is corrupt, he’s the villain because he threatens the status quo of Lionheart’s family business.

From a Marxist view, both companies are capitalist entities seeking profit and survival. The struggle between them isn’t about right and wrong but about who controls resources and wealth. Pascal is demonized not because he’s fundamentally different but because he disrupts the existing balance of class power. The film tries to frame this as a triumph of good over evil, but it’s really about one elite family preserving their dominance over another.

Furthermore, the film’s portrayal of family ties within the capitalist system offers an interesting Marxist contradiction. On the surface, Lionheart champions familial loyalty and unity. But look deeper, and you’ll see that family is a mechanism through which wealth and class status are protected. Ernest Obiagu doesn’t look for an external candidate to save the company, he grooms his daughter and trusts his brother to run things temporarily. Favouritism is normalized. There’s no competitive hiring process, no outsider is brought in with fresh ideas. This highlights how elite families in capitalist societies pass down wealth and influence through lineage, keeping opportunities within the family circle and excluding those outside their class. The “family business” becomes a tool for class consolidation.

The relationship between Lionheart Transport and government institutions is another area for Marxist critique. The film shows how the company thrives partly because of state contracts and political patronage. Adaeze and her uncle Godswill meet with government officials, navigate long processes, and use personal connections to protect their interests. The state, which in Marxist thought should represent the people, ends up serving the interests of the economic elite. There’s little sense of regulation or public oversight. The government is not an impartial body but an extension of the capitalist class structure. This reflects how, in many societies, the state operates as a tool to maintain class hierarchies, not dismantle them.

Lastly, there’s an emotional manipulation that the film uses to avoid deeper systemic critique. Because the Obiagus are portrayed as kind, relatable, and traditional, the audience is less likely to question their privilege. Adaeze’s humility, Godswill’s humor, and Ernest’s wisdom make the family easy to root for. But emotional appeal doesn’t change the material conditions, they are still wealthy business owners who make decisions from the top. The film creates a kind of soft capitalism, where class differences are made invisible in favor of a moral narrative about integrity and vision. From a Marxist angle, this is dangerous because it masks inequality with charm.

In conclusion, Lionheart is a heartwarming, well-made film, but beneath its surface lies capitalist ideologies and class power. The narrative presents the ruling class as moral heroes while sidelining the working class and normalizing nepotism and and elite access. While it breaks ground by placing a woman at the center of a corporate drama, it does not challenge the deeper economic structures that shape Nigerian society. A Marxist critique reveals that behind the inspiring story is a system where class still determines who gets to lead, who gets to speak, and who remains invisible.