Oblation is an African horror film that delves into generational curses, the enigma of dreams, and the unseen forces that shape our lives.

Like Dreams, the premise feels familiar: a young pregnant bride, Nelo, just settling into her new life with her husband, Obinna, is plagued by terrifying dreams in which a mysterious woman screams at her to leave her new home. However, this feature-length adaptation deepens the narrative and raises the stakes. Filming begins on Tuesday, 7 January, and will feature returning cast members from the short film like Onyinye Odokoro (Nelo), Kelechi Udegbe (Obinna), and Amanda Oruh (Nkem). Joining the ensemble are acclaimed actors Chioma Chukwuka Akpotha, Bucci Franklin, Ruby Akubueze, Ebere Okaro, and Iyke Ndubuisi.

“Oblation is not just a horror film; we hope to deliver a thought-provoking story of love, betrayal, and redemption,” says Chioma. “The story explores the unseen forces that shape us and the sacrifices demanded when those forces awaken. We hope to build on the acceptance of Dreams and create an unforgettable experience for the viewers.”

Riding on the foundation of Dreams, this feature promises to take audiences to thrilling, unexpected places. Prepare to be haunted—this is horror like you’ve never seen before.

Dreams screened at prestigious festivals such as AFRIFF (2023), the Silicon Valley African Film Festival (2024), the Black Hollywood Education and Resource Center’s 29th Annual S.E. Manly African American Short Film Showcase (2024), the Real-Time International Film Festival UK (2024), the Eastern Nigeria International Film Festival (2024), the TSWA Film Festival (2024), and the Africa Short Film Observatory (2024), among others.

The production team behind Oblation includes Eric Kafui Okyerefo as Executive Producer, Yemi Adeojo as Director of Photography, and Chinyere Ohuonu doubling as Line Producer and Production Manager.

Annabel Edo oversees Makeup and Special Eects, while post-production is expertly handled by CutnJoin Studios (Picture) and Hovah Studios (Sound). At the helm is Chioma Paul-Dike, the visionary writer, director, and producer breathing life into this haunting tale.

More details to come.

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At Ease, a First Features Project, tells the story of Ifeanyi Agbo (played by Asa’ah Samuel), a former soldier battling Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder after a traumatic field experience. The film explores how PTSD affects his love and family life and deftly portrays the deeply personal nature of such a journey.

In this interview, Asa’ah speaks extensively about what it was like to play Agbo and how he came to embody the character. Before At Ease, he led the cast in the AMVCA-winning short film Hard Times by Imoh Umoren and appeared in movies like Sugar Rush and A Lady Called Life, as well as series such as Ndani TV’s Phases and Africa Magic’s Dust.

How long did you have to prepare from the time you knew you’d be playing Agbo until the beginning of the shoot?

What’s funny is that when I got this gig, it was quite impromptu. Everything was already set up, but they wanted someone different. They reached out to me via email on a Wednesday, I sent in a tape, they liked it, and I flew to Abuja the next day for a screen test.

At that time, I had just finished shooting an Africa Magic series called Dust. I arrived in Abuja, met Mr. Steve Gukas and the director, Seun Richards, and did a screen test for them to see how I looked on camera. While reading the script, I thought, "This is a pretty heavy role." I flew back to Lagos on Thursday evening.

By Saturday morning, I was back in Abuja, and we did a table read. I met Anee Icha, Emmanuel Odunayo (who played my son), Mr. Keppy Ekpenyong, Ms. Rekiya Atta, Mr. Tony Ezimadu, and the rest of the cast. Some I had worked with before, like Anee and Mr. Keppy, as well as Eyiyemi Olivia Rogbinyin, who played the doctor and had also played my mother in Dust. I had met Mr. Steve before, but that was the day I met Mr. Dotun Olakunri, a frequent collaborator with Mr. Gukas.

His production company, Michelangelo Productions, co-produces the First Features films alongside Steve's Natives Filmworks. They previously collaborated on films like 93 Days and Living in Bondage: Breaking Free. On Sunday, we rested as we awaited equipment and crew members from Lagos. By Monday, we began principal photography.

I had auditioned for Native Filmworks at the end of 2021 in Victoria Island, so getting this role was a surprise. Mr. Gukas and Mr. Olakunri mentioned that I had been considered for Agbo back then. It was out of the blue when they contacted me to send a tape. I remember rushing to have my brother record it because I couldn’t set up properly.

Being an actor for as long as I have teaches you to do your best and let go. Dwelling on every audition can be destabilizing. Our job as actors is to focus on interpreting the character confidently, leaving everything else out of our control. Acting is about making moment-to-moment choices and collaborating with the director for their vision. The camera catches every micro-expression, so conviction is crucial.

How were you able to find conviction in connecting with the character?

It all comes down to preparation. Sunday was quiet, and I read the script repeatedly. Being in my thirties, I’ve had my share of traumatic experiences in Nigeria and used those. I did a lot of research and believe that any actor should understand human psychology to grasp motivations beyond the surface.

This knowledge, combined with my awareness of military life, helped me create the mindset for Agbo. If you watch the film, you’ll notice how his demeanor changes from the beginning to later scenes. His voice and behavior evolve, and he doesn’t sound like me in pace or tone.

How did you work on details like voice and tone? Did you have a muse or template?

I didn’t have a specific template or muse. I imagined the character and built a persona from scratch. While this work is exciting, it can be daunting, almost like being possessed by another person. Playing Agbo made me sad. The film tells a story about the mind and how it affects everything we do and how we react.

The film explores the sensitive aspects of relationships, particularly love and support systems. What helped you deliver Ifeanyi’s personal conflicts?

The character was well-written, and my discussions with Seun Richards and Steve Gukas ensured we agreed on one thing: Ifeanyi Agbo loved his family. This love was always present, even during arguments with my wife, which I portrayed as stemming from mental instability, not hatred. Ifeanyi’s internal conflict arises from his deep love for his family, the men he lost, and his career as a soldier. This sense of duty clashed with his role as a family man and contributed to his trauma and survivor’s guilt.

I have a head full of hair, and we alternated scenes, sometimes with a beard and sometimes without. I was in most scenes and constantly had to go to makeup for scars or to remove them. It’s a miracle I didn’t get bumps, considering how frequently I had to shave.

Do you think these experiences aided your portrayal of the character?

Maybe. There were times I channeled the discomfort into certain scenes. Having someone touch your face constantly, even with a considerate SFX artist like Maris, was challenging. Some look changes took up to two hours, and I used that time to prepare for the next scene.

What are your thoughts on boundaries when couples go through difficult periods? Does involving third parties help or worsen the situation?

PTSD symptoms often include severe depression, which can immobilize a person. In such states, even well-meaning offers of help can feel intrusive. It’s like being so consumed by your mind that any suggestion feels like a disturbance.

This was reflected in scenes where Ifeanyi wanted to be left alone. The mind’s state dictates how help is perceived, so when someone is severely depressed, offers of help may not register as intended support but as an annoyance.

As the main actor, do you think Ifeanyi and Lara could have managed things differently?

I don’t know. In a recent Twitter space, someone critiqued the film, saying it was repetitive in showing PTSD and depression. A woman countered, saying that living with someone with PTSD feels repetitive. It’s real. I’m not qualified to recommend solutions because I’m not a mental health expert, but I understand how perception shapes reactions. Our mental state determines how we see things.

From this project, what changes do you think are necessary for veterans in Nigeria?

Corruption has extensive consequences, and it’s clear that support for Nigerian military veterans is inadequate. The care frontline soldiers receive is often insufficient, and veterans are likely to fare worse. Conversations with military personnel reveal their dissatisfaction.

Psychological and mental health issues are often dismissed in our society, seen as secondary or nonexistent. Comments like, “You have two legs and hands; why are you depressed?” reflect this. Films like At Ease are crucial for shifting public perception, humanizing military officers, and pushing those in power to do better.

How did you offload the character psychologically?

I let go by focusing on things that made me happy and avoiding dwelling on trauma. It took time, but I’m more like myself now.

What did you learn about being a man, a soldier, and an actor?

I learned the importance of understanding what truly matters in life. Many things seem important, but few actually are. Like Ifeanyi, I have a deep love for my family, and I can be stern. The closest part of his journey to mine is his confident sense of duty.

What kind of characters are you interested in playing next?

I want to avoid being typecast and explore diverse characters. I have a list of roles I want to play, and I’m lucky to tick them off occasionally. I’d love to play a villain—a completely unhinged character where I can cut loose and go crazy.

Melon Street is an animated short film by Adeoye Adetunji that explores the connection between road rage and ego. In a seemingly impossible manner, Adetunji illustrates how self-worth and identity can manifest in unexpected areas, such as driving. This film provided a unique visual and thematic experience for me, as someone who has witnessed her fair share of road rage. It would be particularly relatable to people living in a city like Lagos, where the story depicted in Melon Street is a daily occurrence.

Descendants of Fallen Heroes is a documentary about the Kenyan town of Nyeri and the current reality of the youth living there. The film specifically addresses the pervasive issue of suicide, especially among young men. The story opens with a poem recited by the narrator, setting the tone for the psychological despair explored throughout the film. It takes the viewer back to the roots of generational trauma, tracing it to colonialism. With insights from various town residents, the resonating thought for me as a Nigerian was how easy it is to forget the profound similarities in the lasting impact of colonialism across many African countries. These patterns are evident, and I was somewhat disappointed that the director or any of the filmmakers were not present for a Q&A. I would have loved to ask them a few questions about the film and its impact.

The budding sense of Pan-Africanism was further amplified when I watched Robert Peters’ Skeleton Coast. Although I missed part of the film due to unclear timing, the story follows a group of African scientists who, in search of a rare gem called Blunamite, arrive at Skeleton Coast on the Namibian coastline. When one of them dies, they become uncertain whether they are being targeted or if the island itself is rejecting them. From what I was able to watch, and based on comments from the film’s producers, Panashe Daringo and Rogers Ofime, Skeleton Coast was an ambitious attempt at Pan-African storytelling. It was a notable effort to put Namibia on the global filmmaking map. This sentiment was echoed by Tunja Daringo, who played the lead role of Samantha. The cast included Nigerian actors Damilola Adegbite and Ini-Dima Okojie, as well as other African actors such as Mawuli Gavor, Cindy Mahlangu, and Thapelo Mokoena.

After the screening, producer Rogers Ofime mentioned that this was the film’s first screening and admitted he had concerns about bringing it to Nigeria, unsure if the audience would connect with it. Ironically, he had to limit the number of questions from the audience, proving that the Nigerian audience connected with the film more than expected.

For the next hour, I waited for the festival’s closing film, Out of Breath, which was set to screen at 8 p.m. While waiting, there was cultural singing and dancing to entertain the audience.

Out of Breath did not start screening at the originally scheduled time. Instead, the festival showed UK-based Nigerian artist Skepta’s short film Tribal Mark. The film tells the story of a boy who moves to London with his mother and grows up in the suburbs. Like many similar stories, Tribal Mark serves as a cautionary tale about the consequences of falling in with the wrong crowd. However, beyond the surface message, the film’s deeper meaning remains unclear to me. The relevance of the title Tribal Mark was also puzzling, aside from the main character having tribal marks on his face.

The closing film did not begin screening until almost 10 p.m., by which time people had already started leaving. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see it. However, I look forward to watching it when it is released to the mainstream.

Nonetheless, I was struck by how brilliantly unusual this title was, so, I caught up with journalist and storyteller Aisha Salaudeen said she had originally intended to title her debut short film Bleach. Her goal was to create a title that would intrigue people and keep them guessing. She decided to make the title layered, just as the theme the film tackles is layered.

How do you feel about making your short film directorial debut?

I feel normal, but also a bit different because this is the first time I'm directing a short film. Everything I've directed before has been documentaries, so this was a new experience. I also feel like the inevitable has happened, and now I am relieved. Filmmaking has always been my goal, and I feel like I finally have one foot in. Now, I'm just looking forward to seeing what we do with We Have Bleach and what the future holds for me as a filmmaker.

What about visual storytelling fascinates you the most as a medium?

I have a personal bias, and some people may disagree, but I believe it's easier to relate to and resonate with things you can see visually. When you see expressions and movements on screen, you can connect with them better. That’s what appeals to me personally.

That’s why most of the projects I work on have strong visual elements. It’s a powerful human sense, and I lean into that.

This isn’t your first rodeo. You’ve devoted much of your career to spotlighting African stories. So what about this new iteration is different?

Many things are different about this experience. On the technical side, from selecting music to figuring out production details, it was a lot of learning. I had to start from scratch, which was very humbling. I needed to do things I hadn't done before, like creating a director’s script and guide. Previously, I only got producer credits for the documentaries I made. Directing was a completely different ball game—it meant managing a larger crew and thinking through everything from start to finish. The technical side was full of new information and challenges.

Visually, it was the first time I brought a nonfiction story to life from ideation to execution, and it was also my first time writing a film script. That was both new and interesting. To sum up, the learning process was what made this project different.

Can you talk a bit about the story development process?

I like to say the story is nonfiction, inspired by real life. It had been in my mind for a while, and the question was how to turn this real-life event into a bigger, more relatable story.

The first step was writing a script and developing the characters. Since I didn't know how to do that, I reached out to Tunmise Oluyede, a producer and writer with experience in telenovelas for Africa Magic and Showmax. She walked me through the process of thinking about the story and co-wrote the script with me.

Next, we had to cast the film. I didn’t view this as a commercial film, so the casting wasn’t based on popularity. We focused on finding the right actors for our three main characters. I had my director’s treatment and mood board ready. The table reading was beautiful, and it convinced me we were doing something meaningful. Tunmise Oluyede came on as the producer, and Vistanium was the executive producer.

We filmed over a weekend, which was an interesting learning curve. I'm used to things going wrong even when plans are well-laid, and that happened here. For instance, we found out that the equipment cost had tripled just 24 hours before we needed it. However, we managed, and everything turned out better than expected. The actors were fantastic, and the second day of filming went smoothly, finishing on time.

One thing I’m especially proud of, which people often don’t understand, is that there was no yelling on set. In production, it's almost expected that tempers will flare, but we managed to make something great without any tension.

What was the most challenging aspect of directing this film?

Balancing production and directing was the most challenging part. As the director, I had a vision for how the film should look, but on set, I had to deal with reality. I often had to choose between getting a creative shot and settling for something simpler due to time constraints. It was tough and a bit disappointing to compromise on certain shots, but it was necessary.

Where did the idea for We Have Bleach come from?

It stemmed from a personal experience. Many years ago, as a teenager, I had a friend who struggled with depression. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now.

I wanted to create a film that explores mental illness, particularly from the perspective of young people who might not fully grasp what depression means. The film is about a teenager trying to navigate her emotions and understand what’s happening to her, even though she has a support system in her mom and best friend. Eventually, she must decide whether to keep fighting or let go.

The title had to be intriguing, so I avoided anything overtly related to depression or mental illness. The choice of “Bleach” was symbolic, as it tied into suicidal ideation and the character’s struggle. Originally, I considered just Bleach, but decided on We Have Bleach for more depth. Some people even thought it was about skin bleaching, and I was fine with that ambiguity.

What impact do you want this film to have?

I want the film to make viewers think more critically about mental illness. The main character is surrounded by support but still battles depression, challenging the stereotype that depression only affects those who lack love or resources. I want to show that mental illness can affect anyone, regardless of their circumstances.

The goal is to offer a fresh perspective, spark conversations, and make the story relatable.

What was the casting process like, and what guided your selection?

I knew from the start that I needed young actors since it’s a coming-of-age story. I wanted people who could express emotions without relying heavily on dialogue. Visual storytelling is crucial, and this film required more showing than telling. I put out casting calls through my Nollywood network and received great recommendations.

The three actors we cast were exceptional, fitting their roles perfectly and requiring minimal direction. I prefer letting actors interpret scenes their way, stepping in only when needed, and they did a fantastic job.

What is Vistanium, why is its work significant, and what informed your collaboration with them?

Vistanium is a creative studio at the intersection of media and technology. We tell compelling stories in various formats—podcasts, films, and articles. This collaboration was a natural fit, as We Have Bleach is Vistanium’s first film project, but we have a solid network in filmmaking and production. Being a co-founder of Vistanium, I had access to resources and connections that made the process smoother. When I pitched the idea to my co-founders, they supported it fully, providing funding and resources.

Vistanium focuses on telling stories about interesting people, places, and events across the continent. This short film is the first of many projects we hope to create.

What kind of stories do you want to tell as a director, and who do you want to collaborate with?

Moving forward, we plan to collaborate more and go commercial. We understand that while we enjoy making meaningful content, we also need to sustain the business. I don’t have a specific genre or type of story I’m drawn to; I focus on stories that are impactful. The question I ask is: “Will this resonate and be meaningful?”

Currently, we’re working on a limited series unrelated to mental health, centered around Corps Members. It’s random but interesting and impactful. We aim for collaboration, especially on feature films and larger projects that require more resources.

We’d love to work with top directors like Jade Osiberu and Funke Akindele, but we’re also open to collaborating with lesser-known creatives doing great work. We’re slowly moving into Nollywood, and while it’s a gradual process, it’s exciting. The bottom line is that we aren’t limited to any genre or topic; it just has to be compelling and important.

The story begins with two young tech founders, Themba (Jesse Suntele) and Tayo (Jable Ogranya), whose logistics startup is disrupted when the government passes a law banning bike riders. This new law affects struggling family man Abiola (Debo Adedayo), whose livelihood, along with that of his wife and child, depends on driving a bike for a living.

The first thing I noticed was the film's strong attempt at relatability. The characters and their situations represent experiences that viewers or their acquaintances can identify with. Regardless of religion, profession, or socioeconomic status, Freedom Way poses the question: Are some people truly insulated from the harsh realities of a corrupt system?

The acting was remarkable, but standout performances came from Abiola (Debo Adedayo), Funke (Meg Otanwa), and Officer Ajayi (Femi Jacobs). Adedayo, famously known as Mr Macaroni, drew on his real-life encounters with law enforcement officers to deliver a convincing portrayal. After the screening, he noted that his personal experiences were part of what drew him to the story.

Meg Otanwa once again demonstrated her impressive range as an actor, further showcased by her versatility with languages. Her portrayal of Funke was so convincing that it mirrored the average Nigerian’s familiarity with multiple “Funkes” encountered daily.

Femi Jacobs’ portrayal of Officer Ajayi felt simultaneously familiar and novel. It was as if I had seen him in a similar role before, yet this time he brought a distinct persona that was hard to envision in any other character. This duality was evident in Ajayi’s speech: although he spoke Pidgin, he possessed an extensive vocabulary of English, suggesting a privileged education. However, the influence of a corrupt system turned him into a part of that system, so jaded that he facilitated corruption.

Symbolism was carefully woven throughout Freedom Way. In one scene, Ajayi is not wearing his police uniform but a black shirt with “Power” emblazoned on it—a significant detail symbolizing the misuse of power when it falls into the wrong hands. Similarly, the police uniform itself acts as a symbol when Abiola, after his first stakeout with Ajayi, heads home in uniform. A bus driver allows him to travel without fare, and Abiola, initially surprised, breaks into a smile as he realizes this is one of the perks of his new identity as a policeman.

Another layer of symbolism is seen in the character of Lawyer Ebi (Mike Afolarin). During a fire, Ebi rushes to save his passport first, breathing a sigh of relief before remembering that his wheelchair-bound mother is still in the room, needing rescue. This moment highlights the shifting priorities among many youths today, who are increasingly desensitized and focused on escaping a broken system at any cost.

Most importantly, the film emphasizes that no one is truly immune to the consequences of a flawed system. The messaging is so potent that it almost feels overwhelming.

Yet, viewers who find it excessive should reflect on the fact that this is a reality that will always be inescapable, no matter how hard we try to ignore it.

I began my day by attending a panel session on The Role and Place of Faith-Based Films in Mainstream Media. The panel lineup—BB Sasore, Kemi Adesoye, Michelle Bello, Kene Okwuosa, and Laju Iren—drew me in, particularly because I had interviewed BB Sasore before. 

He had mentioned how he is often misunderstood as a filmmaker called to preach the gospel through his faith-based films. Sasore himself was quick to debunk this myth during the session, stating that one does not necessarily need to be certain of a divine calling to tell a faith story. 

The session also covered the challenges that faith-based films have faced and continue to face, such as film quality, finding suitable distribution channels, and securing funding. The panelists agreed that while there is a market for these films, it is crucial for people, particularly those of faith, to invest in them.

After the panel session, I set out to watch my first film of the day, Ebrohimie Road, directed by Kola Tubosun. This was my second time watching the film, which explores Wole Soyinka’s time at the University of Ibadan and his residence on Ebrohimie Road.

Once again, I was captivated by the significance of the house and Soyinka’s role in the lives of many notable figures in Nigerian arts and literature. This time, I picked up new insights about the Nobel Laureate. Soyinka was drawn to houses made of wood, and wherever he lived, the buildings seemed to become characters connected to his soul.

He recounted, “I campaigned for that house, I lobbied for it, cheated for it, beat people up for it. I basically gave everything to get that house.” Another revelation was how Soyinka’s deep connection to his artworks impacted him. When many of his carvings and art pieces were taken by expatriates during his arrest and subsequent release, it contributed to his decision to go into exile.

This reminder of Soyinka’s humanity made me reflect on how the things we cherish most profoundly affect us. Author and poet Niyi Osundare mentioned in the film, “Soyinka was popular among the students but not in the same way among the staff.”

One of the reasons Soyinka was denied his professorship was that he did not comb his hair—a criterion that seemed both comical and absurd. As someone with a penchant for nostalgia, I doubt I will ever tire of seeing Ebrohimie Road. Even after interviewing Kola Tubosun earlier this year, I am sure I will find something new and gripping each time I watch it.

Next on my list was Aisha Salaudeen’s short film, We Have Bleach, which began screening thirty minutes behind schedule. I had interviewed Aisha earlier this year and had eagerly anticipated this film. Clearly, I wasn’t alone, as the hall was packed to capacity. I couldn’t find a seat, and the only available one was occupied by a woman who had left and returned to reclaim it rather abruptly—though she never actually sat in it.

Resigned to sitting on the aisle step, I watched the film, which turned out to be a brilliant balance of humor and weighty emotion. We Have Bleach resonated deeply, capturing the full spectrum of emotions. Unfortunately, AFRIFF did not provide time for a Q&A and we were asked to take our questions outside as another film was about to be screened.

Despite feeling frustrated by the lack of organization, I moved on to Adindu Collins’ God-Dafi, an intriguing story blending symbolism and the supernatural. It follows Jabar (Paul Nnadikwe) and Ene (Tomi Ojo), a couple facing financial struggles while expecting a child. They soon find themselves confronting supernatural threats tied to an ancient prophecy.

Watching this film reminded me of seeing Paul Nnadikwe in Ishaya Bako’s I Do Not Come To You By Chance and Tomi Ojo in Kenneth Gyang’s Mojisola during last year’s AFRIFF. I appreciated the film’s exploration of supernatural themes from an African perspective. When I asked Adindu why he believed this ambitious story was important now, he said, “The film matters because it explores the need for us as Africans to look inwards and find the light within us, as that is something the world needs now more than ever.”

My last film of the day was The Legend of the Vagabond Queen of Lagos, starring Temi Ami-Williams (Eyimofe). Getting into the screening hall was a struggle, with an overwhelming crowd and chaotic pushing. It felt reminiscent of last year’s festival.

However, the film made up for the difficulty. Based on true events, the story follows Jawu (Temi Ami-Williams) and her son Daniel, who live in the waterfront slum of Agbojedo. Jawu’s life changes when she discovers a large sum of money. Directed by seven filmmakers—Matthew Cerf, James Tayler, Bisola Akinmuyiwa, Samuel Okechukwu, Temitope Ogungbamila, Tina Edukpo, and Elijah Atinkpo—the film delves into themes of community, bad leadership, and the greed that impacts underprivileged communities.

While the film depicts poverty, it goes to great lengths to show that joy can exist even in the face of hardship. The mother-son bond between Jawu and Daniel illustrates that some things are more important than money. The people of Agbojedo share a unique language, love, joy, and unity.

They have their songs, dance, and collective spirit, embodying resilience. This was a fitting way to end the day, though I couldn’t shake the realization that the struggle to enter the screening halls might be even worse the next day.

It got a little worse.

First, as someone who had registered as a media attendee for the festival, getting my tag proved difficult. I was told by the attendant to go look for a ‘Natasha’ and apparently there was a special process that folks who had registered as media attendees needed to follow.

I was stumped with finding Natasha with zero idea who that was or where to get her contact from or who to ask. Eventually and thankfully, I was given the event tag. I would learn that this experience was shared by a lot of people who had come to attend the festival with the intention of covering it for the media. After the hassle at the registration point, I set out to watch my first film of the day, Agemo.

A mystery/horror feature directed by Moshood Abiola, Agemo is the story of a sinister tradition practiced by the town of Itolo where every year, a stranger is sacrificed to the masquerade Agemo for the peace and prosperity of the kingdom.

The screening experience was quite engaging and the film got some interesting reactions from the audience. After the screening, however, I had to ask where the Q&A was held and find my way to another screening room. It’s important to state here that the star of the Q&A session was Darasimi Madi who plays Orin. Her eloquence was remarkable and certainly captured the hearts of everyone in the room. 

Still brooding on my notes and questions about the film I’d just watched, I linked up with film journalist Seyi Lasisi and his friend. Together, we made our way to a panel session on co-producing for global recognition.

On this panel were Stephanie Linus, Dennis Ruh, John Njamah, and Victor Okhai. It seemed particularly interesting that sitting on this panel were two prominent members of the Nigeria Oscar selection committee - Stephanie Linus and Victor Okhai.

After the thoughts, suggestions, and recommendations were gotten out of the way, a question about whether nepotism still determined a worthy Oscar selection brought about some intriguing responses. The most outstanding was the emphasis placed on the need to meet the criteria provided by the Academy which many filmmakers apparently seem to forget when agitating for their desire to have their films selected.

In a bid to further debunk the nepotism or favoritism myth, past Oscar selections were cited as examples. However, when this year’s selection was mentioned as having met the criteria without favoritism, I was a bit taken aback. Journalist, Lasisi at that point noted that this year’s selection Mai Martaba didn’t seem to have had a cinema run yet, a requirement which is also top on the criteria list of a worthy Oscar selection. 

(But on further research, IN confirmed that Mai Martaba indeed had a cinema run in the North, Kano to be specific.)

As soon as the panel session closed, we headed to another screen to watch Ifeoma Nkiruka Chukwuogo’s Dynamite. This film pulled the most crowd and had people trying to fit themselves along the aisle. Directed by Uche Aguh, Dynamite is a story exploring the theme of desire and chains.

The lead, a singer and musician, is stuck in an unhappy marriage with her husband and manager who is grossly unfaithful and entitled. He feels responsible for her success and makes it a point to remind her at the slightest chance. She would later fall in love with her bassist and they begin a rebellious and assertive romantic adventure. 

One word kept swirling in my head throughout the film was ‘colourful’. Every part of this film was proof of the incredible intention behind the art direction. From the first to the last scene, everything popped. It would track when the cinematographer Dennis Schmitz was introduced as someone who has a keen eye for shooting black skin. The film also made sense when compared to other films on its mood board — If Beale Street Could Talk , Moonlight and City Of God.

The wonderful viewing experience, the story appeared to be holding back a bit. It felt incomplete in an unexplainable way at first until the director shared the backstory about how the film is based on her first EP ‘Sanguine’ after being a closeted musician for so long. 

It is clear that Dynamite is a product of passion and I find it soothing that the filmmakers did not hold back on infusing the story world with as much art as possible.

I closed out my AFRIFF experience for the day with a conversation about what the festival is offering this year. Attendees I spoke with believe that the experience seems to pale compared to previous years.

There’s still time to properly assess this part. Right now, I am excited to discover more exciting work over the next couple of days.

Last week, the president scrapped the Ministry of Tourism, merging it with the Ministry of Arts and Creative Economy to form the Ministry of Arts, Culture, Tourism and Creative Economy.

The administration’s decision aside, Nigeria’s creative landscape has been growing and gaining increasing global recognition. With the wildfire-like spread of love for afrobeats, to the increased exportation of Nigerian stories and narratives through films across a global scale, Nigerian culture appears to be the new cool. 

According to the ministry, some of its notable achievements in the last year stand out, first of which is the transformation of the National theater at Iganmu Lagos. There is also the upward rise of Nigeria’s Global Recognition which grew and moved from 93 to 79, brand perception and cultural influence improved also from 111 to 94 with an increase in cultural rank from 73 to 50. 

These achievements and more contained in the report appear to be an attempt at scratching the surface when compared to the ambitious plans and projects which are upcoming under the auspices of the ministry. 

The Special Adviser to the Ministry of Arts, Culture And Creative Economy on Film and Music, Baba Agba who also talks extensively in this interview about the Nigerian creative landscape and the ongoing efforts to execute a functional and sustainable framework to boost the creative economy that is now considered Nigeria’s new oil.

What has this past year taught you about the reality of Nigeria's cultural and creative landscape?

I already knew it was vast, but it’s even bigger than one might imagine. We know there are many subsectors, with people doing incredible things at various levels. Some aspects may seem minor, but they’re really integral to the sector. It’s a powerful force, one that impacts lives across all walks of life. I always believed it was a major sector powering both society and the economy, but working in it has shown me just how interconnected everything really is.

Are there plans to better inform the public about the ministry’s ongoing initiatives?

Thank you for that question. Whenever we share information, we carefully consider how best to communicate it. It’s a constant question of how to reach more diverse audiences. While our work has been covered in the media, on TV, in newspapers, and on social media, there are challenges. Algorithms often mean that you have to spend heavily to keep content visible. We’re always balancing the resources for "making noise" against doing the actual work, and we continuously think about this and interrogate each other on it.

The ministry plans to create a Cannes Film Festival pavilion. Why choose Cannes, and how does the ministry plan to execute this, especially as France has been a challenging market for Nigerian cinema?

Actually, the Nigerian pavilion is intended to be featured at any major festival, not just Cannes. Whether it’s London, Toronto, Berlin, Venice, or Sundance, the pavilion will serve as a platform to promote Nigerian filmmaking and the audiovisual industry. 

We have an initiative called Destination 2030 Nigeria Everywhere, aimed at promoting Nigerian excellence. This pavilion concept is part of that larger cultural promotion effort. Think of it as a film embassy—a home base for Nigerian creatives to connect with others. While Cannes is a highlight, this initiative will extend to other festivals and cultural events, including art, food, and music festivals.

Are there plans to strengthen the local film festival scene?

We’re doing a deep dive into various sectors. Initially, it was about understanding what’s already in place and assessing the foundation. Once you understand what exists, you can envision what should be, then ask how to get there. Right now, support for local festivals is inconsistent. You might see state or federal support one year and not the next. We’re working on a framework to ensure steady, predictable support for the creative ecosystem. Our aim is to build something sustainable, so these initiatives outlive administrations and individual leaders. The goal is a stable support system accessible to everyone in the industry.

The plans for the Centre of African Arts and Culture appear extensive, especially with an emphasis on art preservation. Are there initiatives to preserve historical elements that may not fit in galleries or museums?

Anything tied to culture and heritage is important to us. The National Commission for Museums and Monuments (NCMM) handles much of the preservation and protection work. They oversee our museums and heritage sites, including those designated by UNESCO. However, practical challenges remain—many museums lack adequate facilities for preservation work. While new heritage sites are continuously designated, resources are limited. The government plays a role, but private initiatives like those by the Legacy Group also contribute significantly to preservation efforts. High-level priorities include fostering an awareness of heritage’s importance and creating frameworks to support its preservation.

What are your thoughts on preserving Nigerian literature and other forms of cultural archives?

Technically, libraries aren’t under our purview, but they’re certainly part of our focus. Nigerian literary archives are scattered—some are held at the National Archives in Ibadan, while others are privately held collections. We’re exploring ways to engage with other government arms to establish a more cohesive archival framework. It’s about incremental improvement and development, and that’s something people may not be accustomed to in government work.

The report highlights Nigeria’s improved global recognition, moving up in rank. What specific activities contributed to this shift, and how were these metrics measured?

Our media PR team can speak in detail, but the metrics are tracked by agencies that specialize in this work. Activity drives recognition. Often, Nigerian achievements, like Burna Boy’s success, are recognized globally, even if not everyone realizes he’s Nigerian. With the Destination30 initiative, we’re trying to make a “Made in Nigeria” tag visible, similar to how products from other countries are branded. This will help people make immediate associations with Nigeria when they encounter our work.

What specific measures are in place to create an enabling environment for Nigerian creatives?

I’ll break it down. First, you have policy, legislation, and regulation, which shape the government’s approach to various sectors. Next, you have fiscal and financial incentives, which include taxes, funding, and other support mechanisms. Then there’s infrastructure, both physical and digital, which is critical for industry growth. Finally, you have human capital development, which involves honing talent into skilled practitioners who can make Nigeria a desirable destination for creative production.

With these areas aligned, you create a loop that sustains growth: skilled talent, strong infrastructure, financial incentives, and supportive policies all working together. For instance, South Africa has become a hub for international film production. Nigeria has similar potential, and we’re working on policies and frameworks to make it happen.

The report mentions stakeholder engagement sessions. Who are these stakeholders, and how inclusive is the engagement?

Everyone in the industry is a stakeholder, and everyone’s voice is valid. Success doesn’t make one person’s voice more important than another’s. Stakeholder engagement is a continuous process. It can take many forms—a large town hall broadcast on TV, a one-on-one meeting, or a small group discussion with a community of creators. Our ministry includes many industry veterans like Obi Asika and Ali Nuhu, who are trusted by the community. Engagement might be a big event or a smaller conversation around policy. This inclusiveness is key because, for the first time, we have people in leadership who understand and are part of the industry. It’s a unique opportunity to shape the industry ourselves.

While Eyo Emmanuel isn’t new to the Nigerian film industry, he and his producing partner, Richmond Amechi, took a significant leap with their first feature film, Broken Portrait.

Directed by Amechi and written by Emmanuel, Broken Portrait explores addiction within the context of an average Nigerian family, using the relatable lens of romantic love.

In this interview, Eyo Emmanuel discusses the journey of making the film and the profound discoveries that led him to confront his biases, mirroring the Nigerian society’s attitudes toward addiction.

What made you choose family as the backdrop for this story?

My producing partner, Richmond Amechi, and I knew we wanted to make a film, but every idea I had was either too expensive or didn’t feel right for my first feature. One day, I was on a walk, listening to a podcast where people write in to share their situations. Someone said, “I wish my brother would just die.” When I heard that line, I instantly knew that was my story. She was talking about her brother’s drug addiction and how much money they spent managing it. I didn’t know her full story, but I felt I had found my story, so I started researching.

I realized that addiction stories often focus on the addicts but rarely on family members who struggle alongside them. Addiction doesn’t exist in isolation; it affects friends and family. I spoke to a recovering addict, sober for nearly a year, who shared his experience and how his family’s support was a constant push-and-pull struggle. In Broken Portrait, the main character isn’t the addict but his older sister, showing how his addiction affects her life and relationships.

When I sent the script to Richmond, he shared that his friend’s brother, also an addict, had relapsed. This coincidence confirmed we were on the right path. Our actors connected with the story as well. When our male lead, Taye Arimoro, read the script, he said the scenario was familiar because he had a friend deeply into drugs, and his family would call Taye to talk to him. It felt personal for all of us.

What are your thoughts on the belief that addiction is a disease?

My research opened my eyes to a lot, and I had to confront my own biases about addiction. Nigeria can be very judgmental; people treat addicts as if they’re no longer human. Right before I started working on this project, a school friend of mine died. Initially, we were told he was sick, but later, we learned he’d overdosed. The family preferred the illness narrative to avoid the shame associated with addiction.

People often don’t realize that addiction takes many forms—not just drugs but also gambling, sex, or even lying. Drug addiction, though, is the most criminalized. Addiction can be a disease in certain cases. I learned that some people have addictive personalities due to their DNA, making them more prone to addiction. It’s complex, and while it doesn’t apply to everyone, addiction is very challenging. For opioid addiction, like the character in Broken Portrait, the drug creates a dependency that makes users feel like they can’t live without it.

A former addict told me that no one could convince him to stop. Even when his girlfriend gave him an ultimatum, he chose drugs over her. Breaking free requires tough love and determination. The stigma needs to decrease so that people can seek help without fear of judgment.

Do you think films should directly address serious issues, and should filmmakers be clear about their stance on heavy topics?

This is tricky. I’m not a fan of films that preach. Nothing turns me off more than a movie pushing an agenda in your face. If I wanted that, I’d watch a political campaign or an ad. In Broken Portrait, no one says, “Don’t do drugs.” I wanted the audience to see it without being told. When films push an agenda too strongly, they become preachy and lose nuance. However, if you create the world of your story well, the message will come through your characters.

I chose not to make the addict the main character but instead his sister, showing how her “firstborn syndrome” affects her. We also explore other dynamics: the addict is the middle child, who, in Nigerian culture, is often overlooked, yet here he becomes the family’s central focus, overshadowing the last-born. I told Gbubemi Ejeye, who plays Isoken, the last child, to think of her role as “the last born treated like a middle child.” This nuanced approach allowed us to present family and romantic relationships without preaching.

You focused on character-driven storytelling rather than aesthetics. How did you select the cast?

When I was writing, I told Richmond that the family matriarch had to be Ngozi Nwosu. Although she’s known for comedy, I saw her in this role. During the table read, she shared that a friend’s son struggles with addiction, mirroring the dynamic in the film. The family in Broken Portrait is Igbo and Edo because I wanted to show an intertribal family—a representation rarely seen in Nigerian films.

I had Teniola Aladese in mind for the older sister role after watching her interview where she talked about moving from producing to acting, which inspired her character’s backstory. Gbubemi Ejeye was Richmond’s suggestion for Isoken. I specifically wanted a dark-skinned actress to visually underscore her isolation, as everyone else in the family is light-skinned, reflecting the colorism often seen in Nigeria.

For Osaze, played by Floyd Igbo, I initially had another actor in mind who turned down the role. Belinda Yanga recommended Floyd, and Richmond, after speaking with him, felt he was the perfect fit. His commitment was evident from the moment he stepped on set.

Casting Taye Arimoro as Bassey was the hardest. We faced the common challenge of finding male leads in Nollywood. Taye wasn’t my first choice, but when my friend suggested him, I realized he was exactly what the role needed. Watching the cuts, I saw he brought depth to the character in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

What was the experience of making the film like for you?

We’re just wrapping up post-production, so I’m still in the process, but it’s been both rewarding and frustrating. This film taught me not to fear “no.” We faced countless rejections, but we kept going. Being first-time producers, we had to prove ourselves to raise funds. I had to wear many hats—even acting as the location driver when the transport company sent us the wrong vehicle.

The journey pushed me out of my comfort zone, and I’m grateful. Once you’re this far along, you can’t turn back, so you push through.

How have you evolved as a writer and filmmaker?

My confidence has grown, both in writing and in leadership. I wasn’t just the Executive Producer; I was also the Producer, so I had to lead. I learned to balance diplomacy with firmness and get the job done without being overly tough. I don’t believe in harsh leadership on set.

Technically, I learned that not everything you write will make it to the screen. Our first draft was 90 pages, but we cut it down to 74. I realized I didn’t want to waste resources on scenes that wouldn’t make the final cut. Now, when I write, I think more practically about scenes, locations, and whether certain actions are necessary.

What impact do you hope this film will have?

Commercially, I want Broken Portrait to do well, to reach a wide audience. For the actors, I hope this opens doors for them. Ngozi Nwosu is playing against type here, and I hope this role shows her versatility. Gbubemi Ejeye and Teniola Aladese are phenomenal, and Taye Arimoro has a unique understanding of the craft.

Beyond the commercial aspect, I hope people who have someone going through addiction see themselves in the film. Addiction is isolating, but this story shows it doesn’t happen in isolation. One of the film’s themes is love and its complexities, whether familial or romantic. Love isn’t always easy, but it endures. I hope audiences see this and that Broken Portrait starts conversations about addiction and love.

Ige, who moved to the United Kingdom to pursue his Masters in filmmaking, was tasked with creating a film as a coursework project. Determined to exceed expectations, he drew artistic inspiration for his unique visual style from Hlynur Palmason’s Nest and Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds.

In this interview, he discusses his journey as a filmmaker, his sources of inspiration, and the process of creating A Trieb For Maggie.

You wore different hats creatively and technically for A Trieb For Maggie. How did you juggle all that?

I run a company in Nigeria, Rayhouse Studios, where I hired many people to handle cameras, but some didn’t meet my expectations, so I had to learn to shoot for myself. However, I’m also a filmmaker who strongly believes in collaboration. A Trieb For Maggie is the only film of mine that I have written, shot, and edited on my own. 

I love having other hands and brains on my projects, but this time, because it’s an experimental film, I struggled to communicate some ideas I wanted to experiment with. Secondly, because I shot it in the UK, I didn’t have access to the human resources I usually would in Nigeria, so I had no choice but to do it all myself. It worked out in the end, but I wouldn’t want to do it again.

You mentioned that A Trieb For Maggie is an experimental film. At this stage in your journey as a filmmaker, how do you select the projects you want to work on?

I work based on whatever inspires me at any given moment. For instance, I made Oiza’s Nexus, which won Best Short Film at the Eko Film Festival in 2022, in response to stories I’d heard about female sexual assault. The psychological power shifts involved in such cases moved me, and I wrote the story out of anger.

For A Trieb For Maggie, I was inspired by my wife's grief after she lost her dad a couple of years ago and remembered my experience with her through my own lens. I’m always inspired by the stories of others, and right now, I’m working on a short comedy inspired by my experience in the UK.

Different spaces trigger my creativity, so it’s never just one thing that inspires me.

What’s it like being a Nigerian filmmaker in the UK? How is it different from Nigeria, and what are the pros and cons?

I wouldn’t speak on behalf of Nollywood since I wasn’t yet mainstream in Nigeria before I moved. For me, the biggest difference is the availability of human resources. In Nigeria, because I ran a film company, I had access to resources whenever I was making films, and I had the money and people excited to make films. Here in the UK, while the enthusiasm exists, it comes with a premium on service delivery. The structure here means you pay for time. Actors and crew members are on proper databases, so they’re easier to find.

Another difference is in access to locations. In Nigeria, we could just use someone’s house; for Oiza’s Nexus, I used my dad’s house. But in the UK, there are procedures, especially for students. Renting equipment is also expensive here, and it’s challenging to buy everything you need.

Now I understand why some Nigerian filmmakers based in the UK make their films in Nigeria. It’s not easy to make a film with a particular quality or taste in the UK because of the high costs.

I read your director’s statement for A Trieb For Maggie, and I found the philosophy around love and grief intriguing. Can you elaborate on that?

Epicurus was an ancient philosopher who said, essentially, “whether we fear death or not, we’re still going to die.” So instead of fearing death, he suggested we enjoy life. I got the word “trieb” from Sigmund Freud, who identified the desire to love and the desire to die.

My main character in the film is searching for love, but grief stands in the way. In borrowing Epicurus’s philosophy, I’m saying that sometimes we just need to live our lives fully because, in the end, we all die. Whether you grieve today or tomorrow, that person won’t come back, and you’ll still face the same reality.

You combined dance, music, and film in a unique way for this story. What motivated this approach, and what do you hope to achieve with it?

For this experimental film, I drew inspiration from Hlynur Palmason’s Nest, which focused on a beach house without showing any faces, and from a scene in Inglourious Basterds where only the woman’s face was shown. Both influenced my decision to use dance and music as the narrative tools. I used to be a choreographer, so I understand how rhythmic movement can communicate.

The lyrics of the main song in the film, which was written and produced in Nigeria, tell the story when you listen carefully, and the dance movement complements it.

Back to wearing multiple hats in making this film. I understand the reasoning behind it, but how was the execution? How challenging was it?

Originally, I was supposed to work with a videographer, but that didn’t work out, so I knew I’d be shooting it myself. I prepared thoroughly, studying, and rehearsing in the actual locations.

We shot over two days with a crew of both Nigerians and British people. I took my time editing, reaching out to friends like Taiwo Egunjobi in Nigeria for feedback.

One challenge was trying not to deviate from my plan. The UK’s unpredictable weather added difficulty; we shot in natural light, and during one scene, it started raining right after our first take. To maintain continuity, I shot the second take in the rain.

Another challenge was shooting the dance sequence, which required about six hours of repeated takes. I had to blend the skills of a Caucasian professional dancer with a Nigerian who isn’t primarily a dancer. Getting close-up shots to avoid showing their faces was difficult but creatively fulfilling.

With A Trieb For Maggie screening since last year and now coming to YouTube, what has the response been like so far?

One of the most resonant reactions came from Blessing Effiom Egbe, who asked, “What were you thinking?” I knew I’d done something impactful. I also met filmmakers who appreciated the artistry. That’s what festivals do—film buffs notice details the average viewer might not. Now, by putting it on YouTube, I’ll see how it resonates with a broader audience.

At my university’s department of film and television, the film has been used to teach current students. It’s rewarding to know it’s a reference point.

What kind of films do you want to make going forward, especially after your experience with A Trieb For Maggie?

The films I want to make now reflect my growth and new perspectives. I’m in a new country, experiencing a different culture, so my worldview has expanded. My future films will be cross-cultural. Language has always been important in my films—A Trieb For Maggie uses Pidgin English, and Oiza’s Nexus features Ebira. This choice felt refreshing.

Nigeria has over 300 languages, so there are countless stories. I envision a story about a Nigerian from Benin and an Indian who is Hindu, mixing meaning and interpretation. Language, visuals, and culture are big for me. For my next film, I’ll also continue experimenting with not showing faces, at least in some parts. It keeps the audience guessing and adds depth. And I’ll incorporate a cross-cultural element, blending different worlds.

First, the title is a facade that may symbolize the nature of the story itself. Farmer’s Bride initially gives the viewer an impression of joy, love, and happiness. After all, a bride is imagined as a woman who must have found love and is going to live with the husband of her youth. When you think of a bride, you hardly imagine a young girl with a man close to the end of his life. That wasn’t the case with this bride.

Farmer’s Bride tells the story of Funmi (Gbugbemi Ejeye), who is married off to an old wealthy farmer, Odun (Femi Branch), without having any say in it. Odun, having lost his first wife, decides to find a young girl from his neighboring village as his new wife. His plan is to have a companion to spend his aging years with. However, his plans go awry as events unfold contrary to what he intended.

The story world is colorful: Funmi is dressed up and takes center stage as you would expect of a new bride, with her high-caste attire and flamboyant hairstyle. The society in which the story is set is agrarian, and Odun’s livelihood reflects that of a wealthy and successful farmer.

He is also a theatrical fellow, frequently hosting guests for random parties where he entertains them with singing, dancing, and drumming. Unfortunately, none of this affects Funmi, who continues to feel cheated, unlucky, resentful, and miserable.

I imagine I would feel the same if I were forced into a marriage without my consent. This arc resonated deeply when I realized that many women in the past were married off in this manner, and some still are. The “lucky” ones got wealthy and loving partners like Odun, who vehemently says, “God forbid,” when Funmi suggests she expects her husband to beat her if she disagrees with him.

Others were not as fortunate and became second or third wives or ended up with men who were financially incapable of supporting them, though that didn’t stop these men from acquiring more wives. A related thread in the theme of an older man seeking a younger woman to spice up his later years can be found in Wole Soyinka’s The Lion and the Jewel.

Baroka, the “lion,” is in his 60s but still chases after Sidi, the young “jewel” of Ilujinle. Here, however, the similarities end. While Odun has no children, Baroka has 63. Sidi had the chance to choose between two men and selected Baroka over Lakunle, the young modern teacher. Funmi, on the other hand, had no choice and didn’t want Odun.

Funmi is an interestingly contradictory character, with her outward appearance contrasting her inner state. Outwardly, she seems privileged as the wife of a rich, good man—a successful farmer in an agrarian society who commands employees and loves the arts.

However, this was not a privilege for Funmi; she desired a different kind of privilege. She wanted agency, the ability to choose, and that mattered more than anything. The story becomes more intriguing when she grabs at the first opportunity to make her own choice. When presented with the option of being with Femi, Odun’s nephew (Tobi Bakare), while still married to Odun, morality is not her concern. Her choice may initially appear harmless, pleasurable, and somewhat fair. Even when she does the unthinkable, it’s more about choosing than moral judgment.

Farmer’s Bride is philosophical and psychological on several fronts, exploring human nature but not from a moralistic viewpoint. Although aspects of Yoruba spirituality are also explored through Morenike (Mercy Aigbe), who serves as the village’s spiritual custodian, a recurring theme is the sequence of events that allude to reincarnation—a parallel of life, death, and birth.

Central to Yoruba cosmology is this attempt to understand consciousness and the realms of living, birth, and ancestry, which are viewed as transitions. This belief can be seen as a coping mechanism in dealing with loss and the pain of tragedy. This theme is skillfully portrayed through Morenike, who invokes Odun’s spirit, instructing him to avenge his death. We also see this mechanism in action when she attributes Odun’s identity to Funmi’s second pregnancy. It would have been fascinating to see Morenike face a dilemma after discovering the truth about Funmi’s first pregnancy. An inner conflict within her, as the spiritual custodian who enforces judgment on illegitimate children, would have been compelling, especially considering that this child is her own grandchild.

The ending, however, was unexpected. Farmer’s Bride is a romance, yet it is also a tragedy reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet. The viewer may initially see the story as a sweet romance with just the right amount of humor, particularly given the colorful depiction of the world and characters.

However, just when we’ve had enough sweetness, the main characters' world collapses. While Farmer’s Bride may be a romantic tragicomedy, Funmi and Femi are certainly no Romeo and Juliet.

The Nigerian society struggles with the preservation of history. However, the important question is: do we know the severity of this problem? After all, when the value of something is not known, abuse is inevitable. Do we as a people know or even see the need for keeping a museum of our memories?

Linguist, writer, lexicographer, and now filmmaker, Kola Tunbosun, explores this thought extensively in his documentary Ebrohimie Road. He sheds light on the life of the first African Nobel Laureate, Wole Soyinka, and his time in the house he lived in during his tenure at the University of Ibadan. Ebrohimie Road—both the film and the house—is on its way to becoming a cultural sensation.

In this interview, Tunbosun speaks about the need for this story, our attitude toward memory as a people, and the experience of taking people back in time to view the life of the global prodigy, Wole Soyinka.

You are a linguist, your work as a translator, journalist and lexicographer has spanned decades.Now, you made a film. How does that feel?

It feels good. In the end it turns out filmmaking is just an extension of writing and documentation. I've mostly been in Linguistics for a while, but I've also been interested in any opportunities to tell stories, so I've done it by creating literary magazines,written poetry.  

Now with the film, I was like, why not give it a try? I haven't done a film before, but I've watched films and I enjoy them. I also know what kind of things I want to see in a film. So it was an interesting challenge and I am happy with the results.

So a story on Wole Soyinka. Why did you want to tell it? 

Well, there were a number of things that happened over different periods of time that pushed me in that direction. I knew I was going to write about that house because sometime in 2018, I started writing a book on Soyinka and that house was going to be a part of it. I knew that was where he lived when he taught in the University of Ibadan (UI). 

It was also where he was arrested from and as such, it was an important character in his life story. I have a draft of the draft I wrote about it in my inbox and the book has not been finished. 

Why did I think it was an important story? Just the number of connections that I found that related to the house — his arrest, his time in  UI, fight with UI, and the toll that period took on his family and his personal life. He is a writer and a global icon but unfortunately, there haven’t been any stories about him as a human being, as an individual. I thought it would be nice to focus on that part, rather than just everything we already know about him. 

What was your personal opinion of him as an artist and a person when you first encountered him? 

I always knew of his work, but I can't remember when or how. In my generation, people who grew up in the 80s and 90s, Soyinka’s name was always there in your consciousness. Your parents talked about him when he was in the news. Especially in high school, during the nineties, from ’91 to ’97. Those are the regimes present in our imagination as someone who grew up in that era.

I met him for the first time in 2016 when I wrote about the building, Olaiya House in Lagos, which had been demolished by some criminal enterprise. He’d organized an event to talk to members of the family and stakeholders. I went there and introduced myself. 

He’d read my story in The Guardian and we had a nice conversation. Then I scheduled another appointment to talk with him about a house that I had heard about, a bungalow in Lagos Island, Onikan, where his uncle had lived. I wanted to ask him some thoughts about it because the house had been pulled down as well and a high rise had been built there. He invited me to Freedom Park, we had a conversation and that was it.

Later, they declared one of his homes in the University of Ife where he used to live as a museum. I went to visit and I wrote a blog post about it. Anyway, I kept sending him emails about his life and other places he has lived in. Then, he invited me to his house in Abeokuta. I went and  wrote a long piece about it. 

I found out that he is quite accessible, quite different from the big man image you have of him because you've heard his name so many times. He is very easy going. 

How did the film go from idea to having it on screen? What was that like?

The idea I had was for him to come back to that house and sit on the steps and retake the photo he took on the steps of the house. But the first time I talked to him about it, he said he wasn’t not interested in going back there. I tried to convince him, but every time I did, he told me the same thing. 

The thought that he might say he didn't want to talk to us again made me eventually decide to just take the interview, talk to him and see where we go from there. We had a list of a number of people. Some of them died before we even got to the shooting, like Jimi Solanke, who we wanted to talk to. He fell sick the week we were supposed to interview him and died shortly after. 

We kept running around to get a number of people to talk. Some people didn't know what I was trying to do. Some were curious about why I was interested in a house because it was just a house in a university and not important. Thankfully, I eventually had conversations with them and each conversation gave me something new too.

What limits did you have to embrace while making this documentary, like maybe materials you wish you had your hands on, or people you wished you could talk to?

The thought at the back of my mind was that I was running against time because this film was kind of late, because there are so many people in the country who don't know about the building or the relevance. Even Soyinka himself, as I found out, had forgotten that that was where he took that photo. So, it occurred to me that there were so many people we could’ve caught that would’ve probably given us better perspectives to the story who are no longer around. 

For example, Professor Ayo Bamgbose, who was one of the members of the committee that denied Soyinka his professorship is still in UI. He is very old and frail. 

A core theme of the film is memory, it's even in the title – Museum of Memory – what are your thoughts on our attitude towards our memory as a people?

Actually, when I look back on the work I've done over the years, I realize that I've actually been engaging with this subject all my career. The reason I had the dictionary of Yoruba names was to prevent memory from being lost, to allow people to put things they have in their minds in a place where other people can access when they’re no longer around. 

When I used to blog actively, this was the same reason I go to all the places I visited and put them in a form where people can access. It’s the same reason I engage in translation and all that. 

I think for the most part, we haven't taken memory as seriously as we should. Not just on an individual level, even on a societal level. The country hasn't put as much money and resources into preserving important historical spaces. There’s this book ‘An African Abroad’ published in 2022. It's a very famous, important document of literary travel history but I realized it’s been out of print for so many years and nobody knew where it was and we had to bring it back and republish it. 

There are so many different opportunities that when you're having conversations with people, you realize that there's a gap in the memory and that the resources that could have answered these questions have been lost to history or somebody has locked it up in some place. For example, the Nigerian National Library, which should have preserved many of these years in films, books and journals have not done enough because they don't have the funds so people have mismanaged them.

I was at the British library in 2019 and I realized that literally almost any book that's been published in Nigeria, you could find it there. At least one copy in good condition of the original print is there. In Nigeria, I tried to find the same but I couldn't find anything. You probably won't find books published even in 1970  in a Nigerian library. So, we haven't done enough at all. 

I don't even think we know the value of these things are important in nation building, because if you don't know where you have been, you don't know where you're going. This is what other people figured out a long time ago. When you walk through the city of London, you will see signs on buildings that say, for example, Isaac Newton used to live here or something similar. Buildings are preserved, houses are preserved, books, history is written, and published. More importantly, the government is putting money into the preservation of every book that has been published.

In Nigeria, you're supposed to send five books to a national library before you start selling. This is a law. You’d ordinarily assume that these five books will be distributed with one at the National Library in Abuja, others  at the similar places in UI, Enugu, and Kaduna respectively. 

They're supposed to be distributed around the country and  anytime at any point in history, you're supposed to be able to go to any of these libraries and find them. But you realize that they don't have the enforcement mechanism so many publishers don't even send these books or when they send them, the National Library doesn't have enough resources to preserve and keep these books in good condition. You go there and I want to buy a book that was published in 1960, and you can't find it because nobody has it. 

There are a lot of issues in the Nigerian archival systems. You go to the National Archives  and the materials there are in terrible condition. So, part of what I've been doing over time is invest in archival documentation. 

As a young student, would you say that Ebrohimie Road itself had an impact on you? 

I was a student from 2000 to 2005 and I hadn't connected it at all to any history of Soyinka. I knew he had lived in the University of Ibadan, but I didn't know where he lived exactly. I didn't know anything about it. I mean, it was one of those things where people wouldn't have some knowledge, some idea, nobody talked about it. The first time I heard about that house was in 2017 or 2018 when a friend of mine just mentioned that Soyinka took that photo in front of the house. 

I didn’t agree at first until I went there and found it [the house]. I looked at the photo and compared it. That was when I realized that it was true. 

I never had any reason to go to that house. My own realization is that if I, who had spent five years in the University, didn’t know about the house, then there are many more people who don't know and who should know it. 

The cinematography stands out for me. What informed your decision to work with filmmaker Tunde Kelani?

As you can tell, Tunde Kelani is a great Nigerian filmmaker, and I had worked with him in different ways before now. Not in this form or scale but I knew him and had a relationship with him already. When I got the news that I will get the funding for the film, he was one of the people I thought about as somebody who could be interested, but I didn't know whether he had the time. 

I didn't know if he was free or if he would be interested at all. I was with a friend, another friend of mine in his office who told him that I was looking for someone to do cinematography and asked if he thought that no he might be interested. I told him the story and he immediately agreed to do it. 

He was really eager as soon as I mentioned. I explained the rationale behind the film, why I thought the house was important. Initially, I thought he would be hard to convince because in my own imagination of the film, the house was the main character, which is why I named the film Ebrohimie Road. 

Soyinka came and left, so it’s not just about Soyinka, it's about the house and any other thing that follows. He understood it from the beginning and was onboard. I think it was the same day or the day after we went to visit Soyinka himself. That was when I pitched the idea to him of going back to the house and he refused but  decided to sit down for an interview instead. It was easy and  I was not in doubt about his capability.

What was the process of securing the funding and how did it help with the production?

We got funding from Open Society and Sterling Bank, Nigeria. That made everything easy. That's all I can say about that.

Was there an unexpected discovery you made on this journey yourself?

Yes. I didn't know that Soyinka’s family remained in the house. I thought when he left, everybody left, and that was the end of that place. I discovered much later that the wife had lived there and with the kids. I also didn't know that the marriage didn't end when he left. 

I realized that actually the marriage, of course, broke down gradually and they divorced much later. But when he left for exile, they were still together and the family actually went to visit him in Ghana and in, I think the UK, France or whatever, he was in a number of places and they went to visit him. The relationship continued over many years before they eventually divorced. 

Also,  I found out more details about his resignation from UI. I had some idea that he was frustrated but I didn't know why. I asked him and he gave us his own reason. I also asked his colleagues in UI who had actually done some research and found archival materials where they found what people said at the time, why they said what they said and all of that. 

This film has screened in Nigeria and in some film festivals outside Nigeria. What has been the reaction of people so far and the most interesting you've gotten?

People seem to have enjoyed it. Mrs. Soyinka was one of the people I was interested in seeing how she reacted to it because it took us forever to get her to agree to come. 

Why do you think she was reticent? 

I think it's a memory of the time. I also think because for the Soyinka family members, people generally always ask them silly questions all the time. Sometimes, they answer the questions and then people use the answers for clicks and sensational purposes. I think that was why she was kind of worried and probably wondered what we wanted with our camera and if we wanted to ask about personal information. 

We tried in any case, but our intention was not all of those things. My intention was just the memory of the house and it was helpful that I had interviewed the sisters and the children before I went to the mother. She was still reticent for a long time but she eventually agreed and she loved it. She was at the screening  at the Institute of African Studies on July 11th. They had a Q and A with Tunde Kelani and she really enjoyed it. They even sang for her and all that. She sent messages back that she really enjoyed it. 

The next day there was a screening on Ebrohimie road in front of the house itself. There were so many people, students from everywhere. People went to the steps and took pictures. According to the man who lives there now, Professor Fashina, people come almost every day to take pictures in front of the house. That made me happy. Everybody else seems to have had positive, mostly positive reactions too. 

What are the plans for accessibility for more people to see it? 

One of the things I'm hoping for is that eventually, we'll be able to see it on Netflix or  YouTube or Prime or any of those places. The reason we haven't got there yet is because there were some scenes that I was still trying to cut or edit. There are a few more things that I need to fix on the film for it to be more accessible.

What impact do you desire for this film?

One, I'm hoping more people will see and enjoy it. As a filmmaker, I'm sure the most important thing is for people to see a film and enjoy it and leave with a very positive feeling. What you'll notice in the later part of the film is the advocacy for the preservation of spaces. Not just for Ebrohimie Road itself, which of course is important. 

UI was trying to remove the building and put something else there. Hopefully, this film stops that idea.

Izu Ojukwu’s 77: The FESTAC Conspiracy is a story set within the  backdrop of the largest pan- African festival in the history of the world.

FESTAC 77 was a huge statement by the Nigerian government of the time who felt empowered by the Nation’s oil wealth. From January to February 1977 in collaboration with UNESCO, the Nigerian government threw a series of events showcasing arts, science, history, politics, and spirituality on a huge scale like never before. Iconic individuals were also present such as Fela Kuti, Mariam Makeba, Audre Lorde and Wole Soyinka. 

Ojukwu is taking an ambitious approach with this story which spotlights a crucial moment in Nigeria’s history but with a specific focus on the life of an ex-serviceman (Ramsey Nouah) and his wife (Rita Dominic).

While FESTAC dazzles the world with vibrant displays of African unity and culture, this aggrieved ex-serviceman is drawn into a covert Pan-African movement poised to ignite a revolution that could reshape the political order of the continent.

This story continues from Ojukwu’s 2016 feature 76 - a story about a young soldier who got implicated in the failed military coup of 1976.

Ramsey Nouah and Rita Dominic are making a big comeback with this feature as main characters. Bringing the colour and story to life are actors Ibinabo Fiberisima, Daniel K. Daniel, Soibifaa Dokubo. Also making a special appearance as Fela Kuti is artist and musician Seun Kuti. 

See trailer here 

In the trailer for Season three, the story picks up right where it left off with all of Iperindo buzzing in preparation for Tumi and Jeje’s wedding. However, unforeseen circumstances arise, threatening their union, including ghosts from both their pasts. Meanwhile, Wura's carefully constructed empire begins to crumble, as her enemies are fast closing in and ready to strike. 

The award-winning drama returns with thrilling plotlines, plunging viewers into the gripping world of Wura, where power, betrayal and dark secrets collide in the most thrilling series finale yet.

“The finale is packed with compelling plots and intricate character developments that will leave fans in awe,” says showrunner Rogers Ofime. He also added “The entire production team has given their all, and I can confidently say that this season will deliver breathtaking performances that will linger in the minds of viewers long after the credits roll.” 

In Season one of Wura, viewers were introduced to the powerful yet ruthless Wura-Amoo Adeleke, the unyielding CEO of Frontline Gold Mine. As she navigates the challenges of leading her mining empire in Iperindo, Osun State, Wura stops at nothing to protect her legacy, often crossing ethical lines and making enemies along the way.

The gripping narrative unfolded in Season 2 around her complex relationships, particularly with her family, and the dark secrets that threaten to unravel her carefully constructed world. With dramatic twists and intense confrontations, the first two seasons captivated audiences by revealing the lengths Wura would go to to maintain her power, setting the stage for an even more explosive third season.

Since its premiere in 2023, the series has ranked as the most-watched title on Showmax in Nigeria with a devoted cult following.

Wura continues to receive industry nods, having scooped nominations for the lead actress, Scarlet Gomez, in 2023 for Best Actress in a Drama, Movie, or TV Series at the Africa Magic Viewers’ Choice Awards (AMVCAs) and for Acting at the 17th edition of The Future Awards Africa Awards. At the 2024 AMVCAs, the title was nominated in the Best Writing TV Series and Best Scripted Series categories, while it won Best Web Series at the 2024 Gage Awards.

Season three will continue to showcase the outstanding performances of Scarlet Gomez, Yomi Fash-Lanso, Martha Ehinome, Ray Adeka, Ego Ihenacho, Lanre Adediwura, Iremide Adeoye, Modesinuola Ogundiwin, Toluwani George and other talented cast members. The upcoming episodes promise to deliver more drama, suspense, and unexpected twists that fans have come to love.

Princess on a Hill is a drama that explores themes of power, ambition, and the cost of success. The show was co-created by Abiola Sobo and AMVCA-winning filmmaker Tolu Ajayi, whose debut film, Over The Bridge, premiered at the New York African Film Festival (NYAFF) and led this year’s Africa Magic Viewers' Choice Awards (AMVCAs) with 12 nominations.

In Princess on a Hill, viewers are introduced to the world of Zara, played by Onyinye Odokoro (Slum King, Adire), a young and naive woman whose life takes an unexpected turn after winning the prestigious Lawson Group’s Leading Ladies reality show. With her newfound fame comes a heavy burden: saving the very company that catapulted her to stardom. Thrust into the complex and cutthroat world of high-stakes business, Zara must quickly adapt to her new reality, where power struggles and ruthless competition are the norms.

But Zara’s biggest challenge lies not just in managing the company, but in standing her ground against the enigmatic and tyrannical CEO, Moyosore Lawson, played by Bimbo Manuel (Breath of Life, 2024 AMVCA winner for Best Movie) who is determined to see her fail. As she navigates the intricate web of corporate politics and personal ambition, Zara must dig deep to find the strength to resist manipulation, maintain her integrity, and ultimately prove that she is more than just a “princess on a hill.”

"There’s that dreamlike quality we want to convey in this modern African iteration of a universal mythical experience,” says Ajayi. “Business boardrooms as kingdoms, the wounded cruel king, strutting knights, conniving bishops, treacherous duchesses, the village belle turned warrior princess and sometimes a touch of the village jester; all the familiar elements of a mythic tale."

“Through relatable African characters, the series reveals the degradation of innocence and the deep desire for validation,” adds Sobo.

The corporate drama also stars Efa Iwara, Ireti Doyle, Femi Jacobs, Andrew Bunting, Mimi Chaka and Norbert Young, with Chuka Ejorh and Shayo Oke-Sobo as co-executive producers, and Bibi Ukpo as the Head Writer.

“This is not your average boardroom drama. From the intricate details in set design to the meticulous editing process, every aspect of production is at the highest quality to ensure a rich African cinema experience," says Dr Busola Tejumola, Executive Head, Content and Channels, West Africa at MultiChoice.

“Princess on a Hill stays true to our mission of telling authentic Nigerian stories and showcasing creative talent in African film,” she added.

Watch the trailer here.

In his book The Creation of Nigerian Film Genres, Jonathan Hayes referred to the epic as cultural or traditional epic, stating that “this genre is distinct for its creative approach in representing the past through specific landscapes and period props and costumes”.

The wave of epic films was marked in the ‘70s and ‘90s with titles such as Andy Amenechi’s Igodo and Herbert Ogunde’s 1978’s celluloid film, Aiye. Up until the recent boom, epic films have shown up in Nollywood on a smaller scale with films like Murphy Afolabi’s Àwòdì, Funke Akindele’s Apáàdì (2009) and the Igbo film, Akaeze (2018).

The resurgence of the genre on a mainstream level happened when Femi Adebayo's Euphoria360 Media, alongside Niyi Akinmolayan's Anthill Studios, released King of Thieves in April 2022. The film was hotly promoted via word of mouth and raked in N320.8 million. Its success served as the whistle that prompted the current heavy focus of historical stories.

There has been a release of at least one epic film at the start of the second quarter of every year since then. On the streaming side of things, Kunle Afolayan’s Anikulapo held the forte for epic storytelling. The Netflix Original, which  was released in September 2022, explores the wild passion between a traveler and the wife of the King of Oyo Île. Set in the backdrop of the old Oyo kingdom, the period was brought to fore through specific visual  storytelling elements such as the language, props, costumes and other elements of the story itself reflecting the time, particularly the mystical bird Àkàlà. 

Other titles would arrive subsequently including another Netflix Original Jagun Jagun, Orisa, Beast of Two Worlds and Anikulapo’s series sequel, Anikulapo: The Rise of the Sceptre. The success of these titles in both cinemas and on streaming are symptomatic of the wide acceptance of the epic genre of storytelling.

There are questions about the reasons for its wide acceptance, its appeal and the now-perceived monotony.

Curiosity about the past and a suitable avenue for cultural identification

A common thread with epic films is how they attempt to explore and represent the past. Olatunji Afolayan, the art and costume designer for King Of Thieves and Jagun Jagun, says history is inherent in any society and Nollywood is at the point where viewers are getting more curious about the past.

“There is a paradigm shift and the audience are becoming more willing to forgo their inconvenience to seek out enlightenment about the past just like in the time of Ogunde,” he tells In Nollywood.

“The genre can be considered in two broad categories — biopic and epic,” Afolayan says. “Biopics lean more towards telling the stories of the lives of historical figures or an aspect of their lives.”

We have seen examples of this in the past with films like Àfònjá (2002), Efunsetan Aniwura(2005), and recently in Kings Of Thieves. Bolanle Austen-Peters’s House of Gaa tells the story of Basorun Gaa, a historical Yoruba figure — the Netflix Original premiered few weeks ago.

Another reason for the rekindled fascination with epic films is the attractive avenue for cultural identification that it provides. In a society where there is a constant agitation of the loss of tradition and cultural values, historical epics are a reinforcement avenue for cultural elements.

“African parents in the diaspora, and not just Nigerians, use Nollywood epics to demonstrate their roots to children and their Non-African friends,” Hayes says in his analysis of cultural epics.

“While the epic film making aims at conveying a horizon of imagination, an expression of traditional culture, and values whose original and clearest expression is in the past, the epic has the tendency to have as its subject, historical change,” Hayes expounds.

This means that not only does the epic genre explore the past as a subject, it also incorporates themes of changes in the manner people live. Therefore, beyond the need for entertainment, there is a lot that can be gotten through epic films. Adults today who aren’t familiar or taught history can glean information and get socio-culturally enlightened.

James Kalu Omokwe, who is known for epic Africa Magic shows like Riona and Ajoche, agrees: “Epic films are historical in nature. They contain elements that affect our daily living today. Our ways of life, everything that concerns us as a people in a sociocultural sense can be shaped by epic films.”

The process of making an epic film in Nollywood

How does a filmmaker decide that an epic is the next project or embark on? For Omokwe, it is a decision between the production company and the studio. “The thing about choosing epic films is that it’s not necessarily a decision. For example, if my production company decides that this is what we want to do, the client —maybe Showmax or Netflix — also has to decide that that’s the direction they want to go. We then go ahead to workshop the story and build the world.”

This attention to detail is necessitated by the idea or need for accuracy in telling an epic story. The question to ponder on is—how far does accuracy play in telling these stories? 

When a story world is going to be built, there is deep research carried out to determine the facts about the period and these facts are considered in the creation of the story world.

According to Afolayan, the filmmaker tries to determine the period specifically and through research. They have to be sure they are writing the story accurately before they can include any artistic license. “Turning a blueprint into life is akin to playing God and while an epic story may not be 100 per cent accurate, it should be close to accurate.”

Accuracy is always a touchy subjects with epic films as they are with historical films in general. In Hayes’ analysis of accuracy and authenticity, he cited the analysis of nine films by critic Emmanuel Dandura and Obi Okoli in 2010, noting that “core Igbo values and cultural practices have been bastardized and grossly misinterpreted, distorted and misapplied” in a lot of films.

More recently, film critic Seyi Lasisi reiterated a similar sentiment in his critique of Aníkúlápó: Rise of the Sceptre. His gripe was with the manner in which the ruling administration of the Oyo kingdom —the Aláàfin and the Òyómèsì— were portrayed in the series.

“For an audience who doesn’t know the history, it’s a painful and awkward misrepresentation coming from Afolayan, who has distinguished himself by making historical epics tethered on Yoruba culture and history,” Lasisi wrote.

While acknowledging Afolayan’s artistic license, Lasisi still stressed that “as a traditional series anchored on a well-read and documented history, the series, not forgetting the creator’s creative liberty, is riddled with cultural and historical holes.”

Perhaps one needs to wonder what  constitutes the measure of accuracy. Are filmmakers telling epic stories still obligated to commit to accuracy? How well can they fall back on creative liberty as the recourse defence when challenged on the level of accuracy in telling stories about the past? 

Nevertheless, the undeniable fact remains that epic films are not only sources of entertainment but of educational value and heavy sociocultural impact too. This consciousness surely proves the weight that accuracy and authenticity hold. 

The future of epics in Nollywood 

It's one thing to have the attention of filmmakers and the viewers, but for how long will this fascination last?  

Though not without their controversies, epic films in the last two years have witnessed a measure of success. Odunlade Adekola’s Orisa was the first Nollywood film to surpass N100 million at the box office in 2023. In 2024, Eniola Ajao’s Beast Of Two Worlds made a box office record after raking N63.2 million in its opening weekend.

Omokwe says the genre’s freshness is its attraction. “In the last five years, people didn’t really venture into making epic films so it now feels like the new kid on the block as now many want to invest in telling epic stories.

“They seem fresh but if care is not taken, the market might be oversaturated and everybody would start to run to something else. However, the current economic value and investor attraction for epic films are undeniable.”

On a broad note, he does not think audiences will grow weary and believes that it would find its place like romance and action, more so that these genres already exist under the epic umbrella.

“I think it is here to stay and we’ve not exhausted the stories that can be told under the epic umbrella,” Omokwe said.

Having almost all  the filmmakers you’ve worked with talk about you in a glowing manner is probably not very common in Nollywood, but Sharon Rotimi seems to have somehow cracked the code for weaving her way into the hearts of those she works with on every film  project. For someone whose background is not close to acting or the arts, it surely is a stunning quality to have.

Sharon’s talent is undeniable. She has an onscreen quality that immediately grips the viewer but she doesn’t only rely on her talent to voyage her through the thick of Nollywood. To her, talent is not enough.

In this interview, she talks about her journey into Nollywood, why she doesn’t think method acting is for her and more about her upcoming exciting projects.

How did you get into acting?

Becoming an actor was a journey for me. My father believed that acting was a talent you should have but not necessarily something to study in school. After secondary school, I went to nursing school, where I did well, finishing as the second-best each year. Later, I tried to get into medicine but was admitted for Zoology instead.

Although my mom wanted me to go abroad but I realized I wasn't passionate about a medical career. I believe that to pursue a demanding career like medicine, you need to be passionate about it, and I wasn't happy. I even sabotaged a job interview to work as a nurse in Nigeria, so I could get some experience to travel and work as a nurse abroad.

My mom was only trying to do what she thought was best for me, but when I took a bold step by paying for my own film school, she realized acting was what I truly wanted. Since then, she has been supportive. It was a journey full of detours, but I’m glad I’m here now.

Why do you like acting? 

This is one of those questions you never really have a specific answer for. I guess it's just been a part of me. It's something that I had loved right from when I was a child. I would pretend as a child  like I had long hair and act as Ramsey Noah's girlfriend.

I don't know what I even knew about girlfriend or boyfriend? I just saw movies and wanted to do what I saw in the movies. I like the fact that you can reach people and they see this thing you're doing and can relate to it.

Art imitates life and that is such a beautiful thing. I don't know how else to explain my love for it. I just know that I really love it and now there's nothing else I'd rather be doing.

All the filmmakers you’ve worked with talk about you in a glowing manner, why is that the case? 

I think it's part training, part self-awareness and self-improvement. My coach, Stella Damasus, likes to say that talent is only a part of your job. Character will also take you very far in the industry. So aside from going to work, deciding to do my job, being a professional, I also think that it’s important to maintain relationships.

I’m a really shy person and very socially awkward, but I know that being civil and nice to people goes a long way. It makes no sense if you're just there for the work and you do not realize how much interpersonal relationships go as regards building a career. I try to be  professional, courteous, nice, and respectful to every single person, no matter what rank they are.  

Do you consider yourself a method actor?

This makes me sigh because the term has been abused a lot in Nollywood. It’s like once you do a scene that impresses people, the next thing you hear is  ‘method actor’.

I think words have meaning and no matter how fancy a term sounds, you just don't adopt it because it sounds cute. I won’t call myself a method actor because method acting requires a lot of emotional investment that I don't know if I’d be able to give. 

Firstly because I’m always so emotionally connected to my character and much so that if for example I’m on a series and I have to play the character for the next 30 to whatever days, once I’m out, I have withdrawal symptoms. Now taking this to a whole other level is something I don't know if I can do. I do my necessary background work, I do my homework, I make sure I become this character. But for my sanity, I don't think method acting is for me.

How much of the characters do you think you’ve retained after playing them?

Every single character. But I think more for the characters that I've had to play for months. I eventually let go of them, but for like the next few days, they're still very much a part of me. 

Some include Flo who I played on the Africa Magic series, Chronicles, and  another character called Dima who I played on The Wives that's yet to be released. I remember a few days after the shoot, I would wake up in the middle of the night almost as if somebody called me but by the character’s name. After waking up I’d remember that I was no longer on set.  

You are signed to Guguru Media. How has it been being associated with the company and how has it impacted you as a person and on your craft?

I am grateful because you see the crop of actors that are there and it's people who have done stuff and are practically established in the industry.

It was super cool for them to take a chance on someone like me who is practically new to the industry. Not many people know my name and what they're doing with me and a few other people is nurturing our careers.

I think it's a really great thing and I will forever be grateful for that, because it's been a great platform, considering the kind of projects associated with the name Guguru. And when they see that I'm associated with them, it's some goodwill passed on to me as well. 

You have such range with the characters you’ve played in the past. Is this intentional?

I think I've just been so blessed. I've been so lucky the characters I've played are always distinct and different. I wish I could say I was selecting my part but I've just been very lucky in the offers that have come my way that they are such distinct characters.

I'm grateful because it helps me explore the range of characters I could play, and see where I imagine I could be falling short. It just helps me know who I am and can be as an actor. I've played roles that I found very challenging at first, but finally found my footing along the way.

In the same way, I have played characters that just came to me very easily because they were very similar to who I am as a person. So if anything, it is telling people that I've got range and can do anything.

Which of the characters you’ve played do you feel is most similar to Sharon?

On The Wives, I played Dima. She is the kind of person I used to be, I could relate to that because at a time in my life I had not found my voice, or come to a knowledge of who I was exactly, I was that person.

There's also Chidima from The Artifact. I'm not a tomboy like Chidima, but I consider myself intelligent, outspoken and a natural leader. People just seem to assume that I’m the type of person that can be put in a leadership position. 

Where do you draw inspiration from?

Art inspires me a lot, because I consume a lot of content. I consume films, I consume books. So arts generally, I love to watch people perform. I find people who are in tune with their art so inspiring.

There are many both in Nigeria and outside Nigeria that just do that for me. For example, people like Buchi Franklin, Uzoamaka Aniunoh, Uche Chika Elumelu, my coach Stella Damasus.

My friend Kanyin Eros inspires me so much, there's a level of intentionality that she brings to her work that just blows my mind. Tracy George is also an actor who I saw do a monologue and immediately thought to myself ‘‘I want to be able to do this’’. There are some filmmakers that I look up to, as well.

What is your general approach to acting?

I start by understanding the story. It’s easy for actors to rush into developing their character, but I believe it’s crucial to understand the environment in which the character operates.

Once you grasp the story, everything else flows naturally. My coach, Stella Damasus, always emphasizes the importance of reading and enjoying the story first, without breaking anything down or doing research. Once you understand the story, you can delve into character breakdowns, research, and motivations.

Acting is a lot of work, both mentally and physically. While everyone wants to be booked and busy, it’s important to recognize the hard work that goes into each role and know when to take a break before moving on to the next job.

What has been your most challenging character to play?

I think a character I found challenging was Flo because she’s so different from who I am. I love playing villains because they’re fun and there’s so much you can do with the role. However, I was so nervous about playing Flo that I had a panic attack on set. I had to find a way to justify her actions and defend them in my mind to portray her convincingly.

What kinds of projects are you looking to be involved in going forward and what kind of characters you really want to take on?

First off, I'm a romance girl. I definitely want to do a lot of romance. If I wasn’t acting, I’d produce or be a filmmaker someday. I also want to do drama, action, and tell stories for women. I'm very pro-women, so I don't think we can have too many sisterhood or female friendship stories. I want to do stuff like that. I don’t want to be put in a box.

Is there something about A Tale of Two First Dates and Son Of The Soil and the roles you played in them that deepened your interest in wanting to explore more roles like in the romance and action genre?

I can't speak too much about Son Of The Soil but I wasn't doing a lot of action on the project although I saw other people do the action and I was challenged. I think for me, it's not so much the genre as it is the exploration of different stories of human lives.

Like in a romance film, there's so many people who could be in a romance film. There could be the classic villain. There could be a lover girl. There could be the lead character who is so multi-dimensional where she both annoys people and then people are rooting for her. So it's so much more about the story for me.

Filming The Artifact took you across different places outside of Lagos. What was the experience like for you?

Oh my goodness, it was a lot of things because, first of all, I do not like traveling and I like traveling at the same time. I don’t like the process of traveling because I get motion sickness but I like being in different places. I like experiencing different cultures, so it was a lot on me physically and mentally but not in a bad way because it was exciting. I hadn’t been to many of these places. I think we were in eight different states just to shoot the film.

More so, it wasn't just that we're traveling, I got to experience people, make friends. I have forged lasting relationships just on that set alone and I'm super grateful for it. I think it's one of the things that excites me about the project. I don't think we've had one like that in Nigeria. I think this was the first of this kind and I cannot wait for people to see it.

…

This series is jointly presented by Filmmakers Mart, the leading film logistics marketplace in Nollywood.

This would reveal itself in a further thirst for the facts and nitty gritty of what truly went down at the revolt. 

Record Found Here (see trailer) is the result of this thirst and search. 

The short documentary travels back in time, and through the eyes of witnesses and witnesses of witnesses. Viewers are taken on a stimulating journey of the Ègbá women and their fight against oppression.

This documentary comes just in time after the release of Bolanle Austen Peters’ biopic of Funmilayo Ransome Kuti. Lanaire’s Record Found Here would serve as the fact house of archival unveiling, the round peg to Peters’ Funmilayo Ransome Kuti’s round hole.

In this interview, she talks about the experience of making Record Found Here, the source of her love for the arts, balancing academics with creativity and what coming back to Nigeria after seven years felt like. 

Congratulations on the premiere of your documentary. How do you feel?

Thank you so much. It’s been really good. I feel like I'm processing everything each day as it comes, but I know it's been wonderful. I feel relieved that it's finally out in the world and people saw it. The responses have been fantastic.

We got some news coverage as well, which was really nice. Recently, it struck me that the journey was fast and everything just happened sequentially. We did not have a very long time frame. 

I would like to know the picture that formed in your mind as a 15 year old when your grandmother first told you about the Ègbá women’s revolt ? 

I felt so inspired and was so in awe of the achievements. That was the time when [Chimamanda] Adiche’s We Shouldn't All Be Feminist was everywhere and I remember feeling a sense of pride and confidence.

There is evidence of women's activism prior to our present day. For so long I was also told about Funmilayo Ransome Kuti being the first woman to drive a car, I was very excited to dive deep. They had reduced her entire history to just being a driver and discovering that she was a leader of a movement was so groundbreaking for me. I was excited to just do research more. 

I imagine it is also different now compared to then. You are still the same person, but obviously much grown or older and what is that like for you like a more mature version when you look back ?

I am less concerned about leaders or even emphasizing figures in movements. What I'm more concerned about is the ways in which the people organized the movement. So even with Record Found Here, I was very intentional in not centering Funmilayo Ransome Kuti. This doesn't take away from her amazing achievement because what she did was incredible. However, I think over the years, I really became very intrigued by the erasure of the over 9,000 other women that history unfortunately won’t give credit to. 

These women were market women, I mean some of them were wealthy, but most of them were poor. And I think for me that's also a symptom of who history decides to record as important. So it's often very elite people or higher class people. Mature me is understanding that this movement was a grassroots led movement which happened to be championed by a higher class woman, Funmilayo Ransome Kuti.

Class is something I became even more aware of whilst researching this revolt, how instrumental it was for, first of all, the Abeokuta Ladies Club to become the AWU (The Abeokuta Women's Union) because if they had stuck to their tea drinking and Victorian codes of femininity and etiquette classes, there's no way they could have overthrow that taxation.

One of the things I had to learn was that every single dream has a cost, but also victory needs sacrifice to be achieved. Fumilayo obviously sacrificed her own privileges as well in that I imagine she was out of her comfort zone. I also wrote a play called Protest Hymns and Cascades, which is actually also about the Abeokuta Women’s Revolt. And I staged it in Coventry in the United Kingdom.

There's this scene that explores the conflicts between the women and how they may have felt that FRK was not prioritizing their own agendas. I had to be okay with accepting the limits of the archive. I think a lot of people get frustrated when they can't find information. They either give up or just sort of swim in that frustration. 

I read this amazing paper by this academic, historian and creative writer called Saidiya Hartman, where she spoke about how you should accept the limits of an archive, which essentially means that a lot of the stories that are perhaps maybe pre-colonialism or pre-documentation are often what she calls impossible stories because how you access that is literally by asking people to give you contact.

I used to be very frustrated because I just thought how on earth am I supposed to tell this story with no witnesses? I had to become more mature at just being patient and also being free to ask for help. Fortunately, through the amazing help of Judith Byfield, a credible academic, she co-authored a paper that I actually read about six or seven years ago about taxation and revolt. I emailed her and I asked her if she knew anyone who I could interview.

She directed me to Joseph Ayodokun, who was at the panel after the screening. His input really changed things for us because I went from having zero witnesses, because my grandmother was very young and can't really remember it. What she just shared with me was her own recollection of other people's stories and her own reflection on the event but she herself did not participate in the revolt. So in accepting the limits of the archive, I had to acknowledge that I may not have the witnesses of the revolt but I did  have my grandmother whose oral histories are also valid in this context because sometimes you don't have a witness but you have witness of the witness or you have a storyteller and that itself is credible information. It's credible because it's still the story and is very valuable.

Looking back and compared to the 15 year old you, now you've matured. How do you see it now? 

I really think that this particular historical event is essential to Nigeria's history and our collective imagination as Nigerian people. Because I was 15, I just saw it as wow this is just so amazing but now it's not just amazing, it's that we have to put actions to our words and that's why I've created Record Found Here. I was trying to awaken our audience's imaginations. I also think that my present self is now aware of the legacies even more. 

When we had the EndSARS movement and with FEMCO, for instance, I remember I tweeted something about how the ways they were working was very similar to the Abeokuta Women's Union.

In a way, you see how history just always repeats itself, especially in Nigeria. For me, how I've grown as well with this is knowing that and history repeats itself. I have a duty as a storyteller to educate the public about it so that we don't repeat mistakes and we don't end up in this continuous loop, which I feel like we've been in for so many years, where we say that we're going to change but we never change.

That's often because we didn't fully grasp the lessons of our past. I see this as life's work and work that could be very instrumental, or rather is very instrumental in shaping Nigeria's collective present and our future as well. 

Beyond the responsibility and sense of duty, I can see a fundamental love and passion for storytelling. Where do you think that comes from?

Definitely my mom. Growing up, my mom would tell my sister and I stories to bed every single day. I suppose when you're able to build that kind of routine with your children, it becomes a part of their psyche. She encouraged us to read. We weren't allowed to watch TV during the weekdays, which at the time I really didn't like, but now I'm very glad. We weren't allowed to watch TV after we came to school. We had to read or do our homework, unless we were eating. I think when we were eating dinner, then we could watch TV. 

I was  an inquisitive child, so I was always asking why. Although I'm an extroverted person by my career, really I'm more of an introvert in that I love to be in my own head. I love talking to myself. I remember in primary school, I always had a journal in my blazer or my school bag. I would often sit down in a corner and just write. There's always been this desire to express myself and just release anything in my head. I remember having a WordPress and I would rush to the ICT room and just write poetry before the bell rang and we had to leave for the hostel. It became this thing that I could not let go of in that I just had to write and read.

My parents would take us to see plays at Muson, Terra Kulture and  watch films. I grew up in a family where  arts were very encouraged and my school itself really emphasized the arts. Being immersed in that culture of storytelling, whether it was in my home or in my school, it really made me develop my own love for storytelling and I was thankfully never penalized for being curious or imaginative. I was actually encouraged to continue asking why, which is a fundamental aspect  of crafting narratives.

You excel in the creative and the academic spaces. Do you find yourself showing up differently in these two areas or do you think it’s a symbiotic situation? 

That's a really good question. You know, I remember when I was in university, there was a particular module that I did and I struggled with that module because I constantly felt like I could not be creative in the way I expressed myself. I had to mold my essays to sound very academic using Harvard referencing and form the language the way academics write.

Because I'm someone who hates boredom, I was always trying to think of ways I could translate the knowledge I gained or research into something interesting because the average person would not read an academic paper.

However, the average person would go to a cinema or a gallery. I once described myself as a translator because I struggled between academia and the arts. I also started to realize that I could practice my theory, and I could also theorize my practice, which means that when I create a piece of work, I reflect on the work afterwards, and reference academics or other researchers and I write essays on this. 

So the relationship between academia and arts for me is symbiotic, they feed into each other. I'm grateful for the academic training I received because it was extremely rigorous. It means that I'm very attentive to detail. I'm always very sensitive about things like ethics when it comes to researching because these are things that creative people neglect. For example, you forget to give consent forms and then you get into legal trouble, you know, or you don't reference people and so you are at risk of reproducing the same erasure that you're contesting against so passionately. 

What are your general thoughts about biopics in the context of the points you just made about researching facts and the ethics guiding them?

I'm so passionate about historical accuracy. Maybe that's also my academic background, but I remember when I was writing my first stage play on the revolt, my supervisors said to me that a play is a story, not a journalistic piece. You're a storyteller, not a journalist.

That was a wake up call for me because in that moment I realized I could actually have artistic license and it was very liberating. But it was also challenging because there was still a part of me that wanted to stick to the story and stick to the facts because I was constantly thinking about generations ahead. 

I learned the  importance of  knowing your boundaries and part of being a storyteller is making good decisions at the end of the day. But I think that with regards to Nollywood and biopics, I think that if it's well researched, then I think it's good. I think that it's important for Nollywood to capture stories that are of different genres. So within historical films, you have biopics, you can have films about groups of people or collectives. I mean, you can also have a documentary. You can express the story in different ways. 

What was the highlight of making the film for you?

Definitely meeting the women that witnessed the revolt, the men as well. I just felt so blessed to be able to be at their feet and just listen to their stories. They were very enchanting stories and just meeting them, knowing that I think a lot of times when we study history, we think that the past is so far back, but 80 to 90 years is not that far away. It’s amazing when you meet someone that is over 80 or 90, and they're telling you about their childhood as though it was yesterday.

It makes you appreciate that history even more because you remember Funmilayo Ransome Kuti’s life, for instance, is closer to now than it is to maybe the 18th century or the 19th century, which feels far away. So I felt grateful to be able to listen. That was probably my highlight. They just spoke with so much passion and admiration for Mrs. Ransome Kuti.

What are your plans for the documentary and what impact do you want it to have? How do you intend to get in the faces of more people? 

I definitely want this documentary to show at festivals. My second goal is that it gets to people in schools. Whether it's university, secondary schools, primary schools, because I think that a lot of times students use textbooks, which is very important because reading is good. But if you give a child what you film, they may find that more enjoyable and they learn more things from them. My big dream is really that it gets on a streaming platform. So like a Netflix show, HBO, BBC or Prime, because I really want the short film to be widely distributed and it helps when it's on a streaming platform. 

Do you think you would be exploring more stories like this in the future? 

I'm really into memory, whether it's childhood memories or it's cultural or collective, one of my sort of interests is really exploring memory in different ways. So I guess in terms of what next or what stories I might tell are stories that deal with  childhood memories. I find them nostalgic and playful.

I'm also a Christian and I like to think the Bible has really great stories. I actually wrote a play called Abel and Cain, which is a retelling of Cain and Abel, but it's about sisters. I wrote the play this year and I had it staged at the Hampstead Theatre. It went well and the reception was great. So I'd love to stage my plays. I would love to also write about the Aba Women’s Revolt .

My play, ‘Protests, Hymns and Caskets’ hasn't been staged in Nigeria. So I want to bring that to Lagos and even beyond. Everything about this trip has come full circle because I haven't been to Nigeria in seven years. So I'm really glad I was able to. It was a really good experience for you. It was fantastic. I'm really glad that I got to come and I thank God for the opportunity because it was a real dream come true. 

Since she found her love for the arts at a young age, developing a career as an actor was a no brainer.

While House Of Ga’a may be her official feature debut, Bridget has years of experience as a theatre performer. She’s appeared in several musicals and stage plays.

In this interview, Bridget Nkem describes her acting career as a full circle moment, especially the journey of playing Agbonyin in House of Ga’a, a Yoruba character as someone who isn’t of Yoruba origin.

House Of Ga’a has been the topic for over weeks now. How are you feeling? 

It's mixed emotions, but now I'm a bit more calm, settling into it a bit more comfortably. Before the premiere, I was so nervous because no cast had seen the film, so we didn't know what to expect.

After the premiere, everybody was like, okay, that went good. We were more comfortable. For me, it's my debut, not just in film, but on a global scale. So I'm excited and grateful about the entire thing.

How do you typically introduce yourself to people, especially when you have to talk about your profession? 

Of course, my name is Bridget Nkem. I always call myself a creative entrepreneur because I'm a multipotentialite. I don't do just one thing. I act, I sing and dance. I won’t say I'm a professional dancer but I can move very well and that helps me on stage.

As a creative entrepreneur, I do some back end work production wise, I also do lots of creative directing. I'm building Bloom 360, which is a creative company where creatives come together for growth and development.

Have you always wanted to be a creative?

I just always found myself in that space. I remember that as a child, acting was one of the first professions that I really loved. I would see old Nollywood movies and loved Genevieve Nnaji, Eucharia Anunobi. I was always re-acting the scenes they played.

I also recall taking a chair and it would be my audience or I'm standing in front of the mirror crying, and acting like I'm reading lines. Music also has always been one of the things where I just found that I could do them. It’s not like I went through some form of training and all that good stuff before knowing at the initial stage where it was just me and what I love to do. From there, it was simply a no brainer.

What was your first foray into acting?

That would be in university back then in OAU. I took a course in drama, I think it was drama 101 or 201, I can't remember now, but then it was a play, The king must dance naked, where I played the king.

I played a man's role, had beards on and all. It was a dramatic arts department project, so we had people come get tickets to watch. I was just having fun at the time but that was a great challenge. One that will always be etched in my memory. 

So would you say that was where the love for theater began for you, for real?

Yeah, I saw the possibility and I just fell in love with the process of putting everything together.

When people say it takes a village, for theater, it really takes a village, because  it's a madhouse. So I really fell in love with that process backstage and the things people don't get to see. I think that was where it really started from.

How did your role in House Of Ga’a come about? 

I’d appeared in a number of her [Bolanle Austen-Peters] stage plays and musicals. So she had always told me she wanted me in one of her movies, but it just never worked. She has done so many in the past.

For this one, there was a rehearsal that happened and then she called me for it. Though it wasn’t  like she had me in mind for the role. It was just a rehearsal. We finished the rehearsal and I didn't even think much of it. Only a few days later, I got a call very early in the morning to come for a reading. She thought I would pull it off and she just felt like I was the one who's meant to play it.

At the time, I didn't even know the magnitude of the project at the time but that was how it happened. Apparently, the other person that was meant to play the role initially is a prominent person. In the end, I think it just worked out and this was meant to be at the time. 

How was the process of this project for you and how different was it to every other thing that you've done in the past?

Acting is acting, of course, but then stage acting is very different from screen acting, because you can't do too much. For the stage, it's like bringing everything to life. You have to overdo everything and exaggerate.

Stage is also different because all you get is one take. I'd done TV before, but not in this light and nothing that I can even really remember to be honest, but maybe made like cameo appearances. However, I would say that this was really a case of preparation meeting opportunity because I had taken classes, and courses.

I'd been rehearsing, not like I knew that there was anything that was coming up but then I was simply preparing myself. So although it was a new terrain, I won’t say I just breezed into it, but it was not difficult. I had good direction, the director knew what she wanted and I did my own research on the character and the story. I had great help from the entire cast and crew as well.

Everyone was so supportive. Another thing is learning the language and sounding correct, because I am not Yoruba and I had to speak Yoruba. Moreso, it wasn’t just normal Yoruba we had to speak. We had to respect the culture and give it to the viewers accurately. 

So what are the things that helped you to get into character? 

I think, beyond reading the script, I had conversations with my director. I had friends who I called every day to ask questions. I tried to read up on the story or the actual story. I mean, we had learned this thing in secondary school but I had to read it again and understand. I was humble. I asked a lot of questions, things I didn't understand. I think that's basically it. I  had a lot of help, thank God.

One person that really helped and acted as my language coach was Mr. Ibrahim Chatta. He was so good that he would come and sit down behind the camera listening and encouraging. I went to him like one million times and he would correct with so much love like he was not just there for everybody but for me particularly.

I was comfortable and no one was judging me even though I wasn’t Yoruba. Another thing that also helped me to get into character as Agbonyin was that even on set before I was acting they were treating and calling me princess. That helped a lot because the crew helped me to get into character. So I give kudos to everyone on that set. 

Looking at the experience as a whole, how has it impacted you as an actor and as a person? 

I think it's important to think about the experience as a whole. As an actor it has really stretched me. It opened my eyes to see my potential. I mean, I still critique and judge myself every time I watch the movie, to be honest with you. So it's not as if I'm saying I was perfect. I think every actor or most actors are like that, we're like the worst critics of ourselves.

However, this has really opened my eyes to see different layers of opportunities also in terms of network. Although I can't say I know everything from where I'm sitting right now. But I know that there are many opportunities that are going to unfold. I was even in a conversation this morning with one of the other cast members where I was saying there's no hard and fast rule in having a successful career in this industry, you just do what you can now and then it unfolds. As it keeps unfolding, you keep seeing different ways that you can get better. 

As an actor, I want to go for more. I'm now being very intentional about what I want to do with this phase of my career and where I want to go moving forward because that's so important. I know that sometimes, as an upcoming actor, you feel  you can just take everything, and go where they throw you. I think it shouldn't be like that. You should be able to map out a trajectory. I want to drive this narrative. I want people to see or to know about who I am and it's just really being intentional and strategic about yourself and your career. 

How would you describe your relationship with Nollywood currently? Would you say you have found your place?

My relationship with Nollywood didn't just start now. I know now, my face is out there. As an actor, I've interacted with everyone. I've done a couple of productions in the past. This is not my first interaction or relationship with Nollywood. I've always wanted to be an actor in Nollywood and not just Nollywood but beyond too. It's a big, massive world so the work is far from over. So yes, this is one of the things I really want to keep doing. 

What are some projects that you'd like to be a part of in the near future? Are there filmmakers you'd like to work with?

Thank you very much for this question. I would love roles that challenge me. I love watching rom-coms, but I actually don’t want to be in rom-coms. I want to be in action movies and others that stretch me and get me out of my comfort zone. That's number one.

Number two is stories that make an impact. I'm very big on impact. Stories that are very deep in culture, heritage, and values. Those kinds that you just watch and they leave a lasting impression on your mind. They keep you talking. A filmmaker I would love to work with in Nigeria apart from Bolanle Austen Peters is Jade Osiberu.

I love how she thinks and how intentional and very strategic she is. Then Kunle Afolayan too but it might be challenging for a non-English film as I would have to take my time to really learn another language.

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This series is jointly presented by Filmmakers Mart, the leading film logistics marketplace in Nollywood.

Among the first 10 recipients of the £5000 grant category are Akah Nnani, Stephanie Coker Aderinokun, and Moses Ipadeola. This initiative reflects Film Lab Africa and British Council’s  commitment to fostering creativity and cultural exchange through storytelling.

These winners have gone ahead to make stunning films set in various culturally rich backdrops from the bustling streets of Lagos, to the vibrant marketplaces of Kano, and the serene landscapes of Northern Kaduna.

Here are the fantastic short films coming out of the first cohort of the Film Lab Africa, an initiative of the British Council:

Salamatu's Rhapsody by Shimataver Igbawua is an exploration of tradition versus modernity in Northern Kaduna, seen through the lens of a young hip-hop enthusiast. This film delves into the cultural tensions and personal passions that shape the lives of its characters.

Ekun lyawo by Moses Ipadeola unveils a diabolical Balogun's fate, hinging on bridal tears in a gripping tale of rituals and suspense. This story weaves together elements of tradition, fear, and mystery to keep viewers on the edge of their seats.

She Sees, directed by Akah Nnani and featuring Ronke Oshodi, is a powerful story of Rinu, a blind woman from Ajegunle, seeking justice after being assaulted by a renowned optician. This FLA grant-winning film highlights themes of justice, empowerment, and the resilience of the human spirit.

Toll Free, spearheaded by Mel-Rouge, features a stellar cast including Michelle Dede, Ibrahim Suleiman, and Uzoamaka Onuoha. This FLA grant-winning short film tells a compelling story of connection and discovery, highlighting Mel-Rouge's innovative vision.

Shadows of Redemption by Jemima Pearl Marcel-Udo is a poignant drama about a seamstress's fight for healing and justice in Nigeria. Adunni, portrayed with raw emotion, confronts her haunting past amidst the vibrant colors of her Ankara designs. Supported by her steadfast friend Bukunmi and loyal brother Akande, Adunni embarks on a journey of self-discovery and empowerment, guided by the wisdom of village elder Iya Tunde. This film promises to resonate deeply, showcasing Adunni's courage to reclaim her voice and find hope in the face of adversity.

Blood and Rope by Twamsen Danaan is a gripping tale of passion and identity set in Kano's spare parts market. This film explores the complexities of self-discovery and the struggle to find one's place in a bustling, chaotic environment.

Ireti by Temiloluwa Ami-Williams chronicles a young designer's battle with cancer and her family's unwavering support. Set in Lagos, this heartfelt journey of resilience and hope showcases the strength and determination of its protagonist.

Ralia's Secret by Faustina Okomayin, featuring Norbert Young, Gloria Young, and Michael Ejoor, is a captivating story of hidden truths and personal discovery. This film, crafted under the mentorship of industry veterans, showcases Faustina's unique storytelling prowess.

Femi: Love Me, starring Stephanie Coker and directed by Tolu Ajayi, renowned for his film "Over the Bridge," is a psycho-thriller that promises to captivate audiences with its intense storyline and dynamic characters. This FLA grant-winning film explores themes of love, obsession, and the complexities of human relationships.

N.E.P.A (Never Expect Power Always) by Anyanwu Sandra Adaora is an intense drama exploring love, desperation, and vengeance amidst Nigeria's power crisis. This gripping tale reflects the harsh realities and emotional turmoil experienced by many in the country.

As these short films move into the post-production stage, they stand as a testament to the talent and creativity flourishing within Nigeria's film industry.

Stay tuned for the release of these remarkable films, each offering a fresh and exciting narrative that will captivate audiences around the globe.

About Film Lab Africa

Film Lab Africa is a mentorship and grant programme by the British Council aimed at nurturing the next generation of filmmakers in Africa. The initiative provides comprehensive training, funding, and mentorship to emerging filmmakers, helping them develop their skills and bring their unique stories to life.