Is Nollywood Sabotaging Itself?

Nollywood’s global trajectory is undeniable. The industry’s international breakthrough arguably began in 2018 with Lionheart, Netflix’s first original Nigerian production. This milestone was followed by the film becoming the first submission from the Nigerian Official Selection Committee (NOSC) to the Academy Awards, despite the committee’s establishment in 2014. Since then, a steady stream of Nigerian films has found international audiences through streaming platforms and prestigious festival circuits. The momentum reached a historic peak on May 18, 2025, when My Father’s Shadow became the first Nigerian film selected for Cannes’ official competition. By any measure, this year represents Nollywood at its most internationally visible. 

Yet even as Nollywood reaches new heights of international recognition, the industry appears to be working against its own interests. For years, there has been a consistent pattern of resistance to innovative and non-traditional filmmaking approaches. This internal resistance becomes particularly damaging in a year when Nollywood’s global profile has never been higher, potentially undermining the very progress that has brought the industry to this pivotal moment.

In 2018, controversy erupted around Lionheart’s release. A statement from their team alleged that “powers that be” had refused to screen the movie in their cinemas. The team further claimed these entities had “arm-twisted” a major distributor who had initially agreed to show the film, forcing them to withdraw from the deal because these “powers that be” held no stake in Lionheart. While this represents perhaps the first high-profile documentation of tensions between exhibitors, distributors, and Nigerian filmmakers, it’s far from the only one. 

Kenneth Gyang’s Confusion Nawa, released in 2014, faced similar challenges. The common thread linking these films is their status as outliers, productions that deviate from conventional Nollywood norms. For this discussion, we define outliers as films that challenge industry standards, whether through unconventional marketing approaches, non-traditional directors, independent production methods, or any other elements that fall outside typical industry practices.

For many social media users, Red Circle became impossible to ignore. The film’s pre-release marketing campaign was distinctive: filmmakers and cast members posted images of red circles across social media and donned the images as their display pictures. With production spanning three years, these cryptic posts saturated timelines and built anticipation.

However, Red Circle’s theatrical release has proven tumultuous. Cinema-goers flooded social media with complaints about a lack of access to watch the film, despite its scheduled screenings. The movie, produced by Rixel Studios (founded by Nora Awolowo in collaboration with other independent filmmakers), is another clear outlier. Its global positioning and unconventional approach have apparently triggered familiar resistance from traditional distributors.

“They are intentionally sabotaging that movie,” said Yemi Akande, writer of The Johnsons, on his X platform. “They did La Femme Anjola, Eyimofe, and Mami Wata. It’s crazy!”

Cinema-goers have reported equally troubling experiences. One viewer recounted: “You won’t believe this, the screen at Filmhouse just went off mid-movie. They asked everyone in the cinema to step out.” Others described arriving at theaters only to discover that advertised showtimes were false, despite being listed on official cinema websites.

The underlying issue appears straightforward: distributors favor filmmakers who conform to familiar formulas and aesthetics. While distributors may contest this characterization—as they have previously—the pattern remains evident. This preference reflects a broader mentality that pervades Nigerian society: why embrace innovation when familiar approaches suffice? Yet calling this “new” understates the problem’s persistence, which dates back to at least 2014.

Film journalist Seyi Lasisi recognizes this as a longstanding challenge: “Distribution problems are as old as the Nigerian film industry itself. A glance through the history of film distribution in Nigeria, from Ebinpejo Lane in Lagos to Aba and other film hubs, reveals that pioneering filmmakers consistently faced distribution barriers.” He identifies core issues that originated decades ago but persist today: “There was the problem of film accessibility, and there was also the problem of piracy.”

While roadside CD vendors on Ojuelegba Bridge may be relics of the past, the fundamental challenges remain, merely dressed in contemporary garb.

CJ Obasi’s Mami Wata became the first Nigerian film to premiere at Sundance, marking a significant breakthrough in the global film market. However, its Nigerian cinema debut told a different story, one of muted reception and minimal marketing effort from distributor FilmOne Entertainment. As an arthouse black-and-white film that departed dramatically from Nigeria’s commercial movie landscape, Mami Wata exemplified the outlier film experience.

To understand how these power dynamics function, it’s important to distinguish the key players. Distributors serve as intermediaries between filmmakers and the audience, acquiring films and licensing them to cinemas or streaming platforms. They handle marketing, set release strategies, and negotiate screening terms. Exhibitors, on the other hand, are the cinema operators; they schedule films, manage screenings, and control the in-theater experience. In Nigeria, companies like FilmOne blur these lines by operating as both distributor and exhibitor, allowing them to promote or quietly suppress films within their own cinema chains. 

Filmhouse Cinemas represents the industry’s dominant force, operating over ten locations across major Nigerian cities and offering premium experiences like Filmhouse IMAX. Their extensive screen count and nationwide reach position them as Nigeria’s leading cinema chain, a status that can create monopolistic conditions when they reject certain films, as has allegedly happened with Red Circle.

Such concentrated control creates a culture of gatekeeping, one that extends beyond distribution into Nigeria’s entire creative ecosystem. If left unchecked, these acts of internal sabotage risk stalling Nollywood’s growth and undermining its potential as a driver of national economic development. In an economy grappling with inflation and dwindling job opportunities, the film industry should function as both a cultural export and a scalable job-creating engine. From costume designers to editors, marketers to camera operators, every film feeds a wider employment ecosystem. But when certain films, especially innovative or indie-produced ones, are quietly suppressed despite audience demand, it sends a warning to investors and partners. It tells them that success in Nollywood isn’t determined by quality or potential, but by alignment with entrenched interests. That kind of opacity breeds hesitation, and over time, it reduces the inflow of infrastructure Nollywood needs to thrive on a global scale.

Beyond the economics, the cultural consequences are just as damaging. When outlier films struggle to find screens or support, the industry becomes stagnant. Filmmakers learn quickly that innovation may cost them visibility or even their livelihood. That discourages risk-taking and limits the kinds of stories Nollywood tells. As Blessing Uzzi notes, “What we will have is people outgrowing the industry and leaving it behind.” For audiences, too, the effects are disheartening. In an economy where simply affording a cinema ticket is already a stretch, unreliable screenings and broken trust may push even loyal viewers to disengage entirely. In the long run, sabotage weakens the entire system from the inside out.

Lasisi offers a blunt solution: “The FilmOne monopoly needs to be challenged.” But doing so requires courage. Filmmakers worry, rightly, about retaliation and blacklisting. Still, without a united front demanding fairer systems, the same problems will persist into 2030 and beyond. If this Red Circle moment of visibility doesn’t spark collective action, it’s hard to imagine when, or if, it ever will.