Is Jenifa Nollywood’s Most Enduring Character? 

For nearly two decades, one character has endured Nollywood’s landscape. This unlikely icon, neither a polished heroine nor a role model, has maintained an iron grip on audiences’ attention across films and television series since 2008. Her persistence in Nigeria’s ever-shifting entertainment scene prompts us to ask: What fuels Jenifa’s longevity? To dismiss Jenifa’s impact on Nollywood would be an exercise in self-deception; she stands as arguably the industry’s greatest franchise. So rather than debate her significance, let us instead unravel the complexities of her influence on Nigerian cinema.

Funke Akindele’s portrayal of Jenifa first captivated audiences in 2008, earning her an Africa Movie Academy Award and launching what would become a cultural juggernaut. The franchise has continuously pushed boundaries, from The Return of Jenifa (2011) to the beloved television series Jenifa’s Diary (2015). Most recently, Everybody Loves Jenifa, now streaming on Amazon Prime,  shattered box office records, surpassing even the phenomenal success of Akindele’s A Tribe Called Judah.

At its core, Jenifa’s enduring appeal stems from its local fusion of humor and social commentary. The character transcends conventional comedy by crafting narratives deeply rooted in Nigerian cultural experiences. From merchandise distribution to consistent fan engagement, she has mastered the art of building viewer loyalty. This deep connection with her audience transforms every new project into a cultural event, sparking nationwide conversation. Through Jenifa, Akindele has not only become a household name but has emerged as a pivotal figure in revitalizing Nigeria’s cinema culture, collecting numerous accolades along the way.

Hollywood is home to many long-standing franchises. Fast and Furious has been running since 2001, and John Wick, the assassin driven by grief, has become a global icon. The X-Men series, along with the expansive Marvel and DC universes, shows Hollywood’s commitment to building enduring franchises. This is not to suggest that Hollywood and Nollywood are directly comparable; the two industries differ significantly. However, growth often comes from paying attention to the people who’ve walked the road before us and the lessons they left behind. For almost 20 years, Nollywood has existed in a peculiar stasis. Only two major IP franchises, Jenifa and Toyin Abraham’s Alakada, exist. This raises questions about the industry’s ability to innovate and evolve. While these franchises have achieved some commercial success, their sole existence reflects a broader challenge in Nigerian cinema: the struggle to create new, compelling narrative universes.

Take Kunle Afolayan’s ambitious attempt with Anikulapo in 2022. His vision to create Nigeria’s response to Game of Thrones demonstrated admirable ambition, but highlighted our industry’s limitations. Kemi Adetiba’s King of Boys franchise also emerged as a promising contender in 2018. The saga of Eniola Salami, brilliantly portrayed by Sola Sobowale, showed potential for sophisticated long-form storytelling. However, even this series suffered from pacing issues and rushed plot developments. The plot is disjointed. Why does she want to be governor? The characters’ core motivations are weak, and although a third installment is planned for this year, the direction of the story remains uncertain.

Jenifa is not any better. The franchise’s enduring dominance speaks less to its storytelling excellence and more to Nollywood’s creative limitations. Jenifa’s longevity lies in its simplest element: humor with little substance. The franchise thrives on mostly laughter and good marketing, paying little attention to narrative coherence or character development. Consider the contradictions across installments: In the original film, we meet Suliat, a provincial girl who desperately reinvents herself as “Jenifa” in Lagos, ending in a cautionary tragedy. Yet by The Return of Jenifa, this backstory evaporates, with only the character’s comedic mannerisms carrying forward. Perhaps most jarring is Jenifa’s inexplicable transformation in Jenifa’s Diary. The character undergoes a complete philosophical reversal—from obsessing over a sophisticated image to suddenly embracing her educational limitations and peculiar English. And it’s not that such a shift is impossible, but why? The change comes without explanation or exploration. The franchise never probes Jenifa’s inner world or motivations; instead, it delivers weekly doses of surface-level entertainment, which Nigerians seem to relish.

This brings us to the paradox at the heart of the franchise: its very flaws may be the secret to its survival. Jenifa offers undemanding entertainment. The audience isn’t looking for character arcs or narrative consistency; they come for the comfort of familiar humor. We see this again in Everybody Loves Jenifa, where Funke Akindele leans on real-life beloved figures like Veekee James, Hilda Baci, and Layi to push the film. Watching it feels like seeing your favorites on screen, and even though the movie plays more like a string of skits than a cohesive story, it’s easy to forget that.

Perhaps Jenifa’s legacy is more complex than simple binaries of good or bad storytelling. The franchise represents both Nollywood’s achievements and its shortcomings: remarkable commercial success and audience engagement on one hand, creative stagnation, and shallow narrative development on the other. Akindele’s marketing brilliance and understanding of her audience cannot be disputed. However, the franchise’s endurance reflects the current state of Nigerian cinema, capable of producing crowd-pleasing entertainment but still searching for the balance between commercial appeal and artistic depth. Jenifa’s story may well serve as a blueprint for success and a reminder of the industry’s unrealized potential.