Nollywood and The Politics of Moral Resolutions 

Nollywood has always shouldered ideas of morality that are rooted in Nigeria’s social existence, with narrative resolutions aiming for  justice and fulfilling some didactic purpose. For the filmmaker, a film is not just a medium of entertainment; it reveals lessons that guide human conduct, exposing both values and vices that are prevalent in a particular society.

Having evolved from theatrical traditions, the Nigerian film industry, in its unpolished and impressionable state, heavily leaned into the moralistic plot. The travelling theatre, which gained traction in the 1960s, inspired celluloid productions from the 1970s to 1990s. Hubert Ogunde, a pacesetter in travelling theatre, transitioned into celluloid filmmaking with Aiye in 1979, a film that undercut the belief in witchcraft, Yoruba spirituality and the symbolic clash between light and darkness. The maestro also made Jayesimi and Aropin N’tenia, both films consolidating on his politics of  mysticism.

Pioneering figures of the home video era of Nollywood explored themes of  avarice, get-rich-quick syndrome and spirituality, often creating a clear distinction between good and evil and their consequences thereof. Kenneth Nnebue and Okey Ogunjiofor’s Living In Bondage explored the life of a man embroiled in a money ritual saga. Christian Onu’s Karishika followed an intricate relationship between the metaphysical kingdom of hell and the human world. A common denominator to both films was the clash of malevolent forces and Pentecostal spirituality, with the former capitulating in the end. Lancelot Imasuen’s Issakaba told the story of a vigilante group tasked with riding terrorized communities of fortified armed robbers and their apologists. Watching the film, you are  reminded of the ugly consequences of crime and other heinous activities, most especially with the protagonist and group leader’s frequent bellowing of “justice is mine!”

From the wicked stepmother or mother-in-law to the bitchy campus girl, the subservient and sufferable wife, the local jester, and the occultic socialite  (Living In Bondage, Blood Money: The Vulture Men, Billionaires Club), Nollywood created tropes that instructed the society about what was right and wrong, even laying down codes about how to navigate life as an individual and within systems like family, religious homes and peer groups. Classic Nollywood held tightly to the unspoken rule that evil must never triumph over good. The wicked mother-in-law or step mother and the ritualist died or ran mad mysteriously, while the righteous or morally upright was vindicated. Many resolutions from the home video era took Christian or traditional spiritual dimensions, with characters often requiring to be redeemed through a variant of deus ex machina—deliverance prayers or the intervention of traditional diabolical forces. Films from the stables of Helen Ukpabio (End of The Wicked, Highway To The Grave, etc.) and Mount Zion Film Productions (Agbara Nla, Perilous Times, etc.) reinforced the 20th and early 21st century Christian evangelical waves in Nigeria but also proved the importance of faith to storytelling traditions.

In recent times, Nigerian filmmakers, including the so-called indie players, are encouraged to tell stories which eschew neat moral closure and breach cycles of stereotypes. The decline of home video has paved the way for the growing influence of digital streaming and distribution via international film festivals, exposing filmmakers to a range of options through which they can easily  penetrate both local and global markets while brandishing narratives that reflect the complexities and nuances of a globalized world. Good or not-so-bad guys may now suffer terrible fates  and the bad guys escape retribution, blurring the lines of justice and trapping audiences in a moral dilemma. Confusion Na Wa, directed by Kenneth Gyang, marked a pivotal point in this moral trajectory, with its story of several chance meetings and a defence for a world that is not necessarily ruled by logical conclusions. In the film, an incorruptible and honest man Bello struggles for economic survival, gets cheated on by his wife and is frustrated into resigning from a typical Nigerian workforce where ineptitude thrives, eventually losing out on all ends.  The friendship of Uchiche and Charles is truncated when the reasonable one of the duo, Uchiche, is erroneously murdered for the crime of his objectionable partner.

The King of Boys franchise, created and directed by Kemi Adetiba, introduced an ambitious and seemingly indomitable heroine, which was an unprecedented move for female representation in Nollywood. Before then, films like Widow’s Cot and Glamour Girls empowered women on screen but fell to predictable plotlines and less inspiring endings. However, Adetiba’s franchise revolted against traditional notions of morality, with the heroine Eniola Salami imbued with lovable and villainous potentials and the storyline offering redemption without  the overt influence of a supernatural twist.  Water Girl, a supernatural thriller based on the Ogbanje mythology and directed by indie filmmaker Nnamdi Kanaga, demonstrated an intricate relationship between the natural and supernatural world even on foreign soil; yet what stood out in this production was its ending where characters that could have been saved were ultimately destroyed.

This is not to suggest that contemporary films no longer uphold moral values, whether in a traditional or refurbished sense. Productions such as Femi Adebayo’s Jagun Jagun, Odunlade Adekola’s Lakatabu, Yemi Morafa’s Devil Is a Liar, Kemi Adetiba’s To Kill A Monkey, EbonyLife’s Baby Farm, and Funke Akindele’s Finding Me and Everybody Loves Jenifa serve as touchstones of morality. Netflix series, To Kill A Monkey and Baby Farm  discourage underground crime through vicious portrayals of internet fraud  and child trafficking respectively. Finding Me and Devil Is a Liar address the dangers of domestic violence and dysfunctional relationships, exposing emotional abuse and manipulation beneath seemingly ordinary interactions. Jagun Jagun highlights the essence of being an “omoluabi”, with justice ultimately prevailing as the protagonist is vindicated and the antagonist brought down. Lakatabu warns against crime through the tragic downfall of its empowered hero. Meanwhile, Everybody Loves Jenifa reflects the repercussions of crime, cautions against superficiality, and upholds integrity and humanitarian values.

Like film industries in other parts of the world, Nollywood is a product of her social environment, including the convictions, doubts and peculiarities of the people therein. As a result, it cannot be absolutely divorced from society’s perceptions of what is acceptable and unacceptable. Yet, filmmakers have a responsibility to regulate content consumption and evolve beyond stereotypes and cliché storytelling, figuring out unique ways to drive plots and introducing refreshing reflections in the final acts of their films.