S.I Abrams, the Director and Cinematographer of “Àkókò” is Getting Bolder and Refined

S.I Abrams, the director of Àkókò, one of the AFRIFF 2025 selected short films, is in a constant search for himself. His creative journey continues to expand, each step more deliberate and  fearless, almost like shedding off old skin to open his mind to endless possibilities. Fatherhood has recently grounded him and refined his mind, and as he told Culture Custodian, this new responsibility has shifted his perspective and placed his journey on an entirely different dimension.

As a filmmaker, Abrams leans towards surrealism and more darker themes but he is open to exploring comedy infused with action sequences. He believes this will bring a refreshing energy to his work and still retain “a touch of surrealism to add texture and keep things intriguing.”

In this conversation with Abrams, the director and cinematographer spoke about his visual identity, social-driven narrative and the transient nature of time. 

This interview has been edited for clarity. 

Your work carries a unique visual identity that sits between a motif and metaphor-driven style. Can you talk about this and how it reinforces your filmmaking identity? 

My visual identity is rooted in my early relationship with painting. Before I became a filmmaker, I was a child deeply drawn to anything unconventional: sculptures, patterns, symbols, lines, colours, and shapes. I found meaning in them, and I learned to express my own ideas through them. I always believed that if I could see meaning in these elements, I could also guide others to see and feel the same.

Transitioning into filmmaking became a natural expansion of that instinct. It gave me a broader medium where I could combine images and sound to express what I feel and think. But even as my tools evolved, I stayed true to the artistic foundation that shaped me. And I personally say this all the time: I identify more as an artist, without limiting myself to a single art form. Regardless of the genre or theme I explore, there is always a surreal, motif-driven layer running underneath, something that binds the entire work together. I believe this approach gives my films a kind of timelessness. It allows them to resonate with different audiences, across different places and periods, while still carrying a visual language that is distinct to me.

Your films are a critical assessment of social and cultural issues. What prompted this thematic choice? 

I didn’t grow up watching films early in life due to religious restrictions, but when I finally encountered cinema, it changed everything for me. I vividly remember watching Emelie Ardolino’s Sister Act for the first time. There’s a moment where Whoopi Goldberg tells the students, “If you want to be somebody, you have to wake up and pay attention.” As young as I was, that line hit me deeply. From that moment, I became fascinated by how stories could challenge, inspire, and transform people. Watching characters overcome obstacles and rise into their own strength opened my eyes to the power of cinema, not just as entertainment but as a tool for shaping consciousness.

That became the foundation of my thematic choices. I realized there might be someone out there, just like I was, who could stumble upon a film and have their perspective shifted, their dreams expanded, or their humanity strengthened. So for me, filmmaking carries a responsibility. I don’t just create films to entertain; I create them to reflect real social and cultural issues, to spark thought, and to contribute in some way to the betterment of humanity. Using storytelling as a tool for awareness and change is not just an artistic choice; it’s my purpose as a creative.

Your work manipulates colors, lighting, sounds and production design as complementary to storytelling. Can you discuss how these enhance the narrative’s mood and themes in your works?

I strongly follow the rule of “show, don’t tell.” If I want the audience to feel a certain emotion, I need to place them inside that emotion, creating an environment that naturally drives the feeling to its fullest. I’m very intentional with production design because it’s where the world of the characters is built, and it’s also where I begin advocating for the audience. The space they see shapes the way they feel.

Sound then becomes the final layer, drawing the audience’s attention to specific details and grounding them deeper into the narrative. With sound, I can direct focus, heighten the senses, and make viewers even more present in the world I’m creating. Every choice serves a purpose. For example, in Dirty, the presence of red in every frame wasn’t accidental, it was a deliberate thematic thread. In Àkókò, the use of an ancient symbol in a wall frame played the same role, subtly connecting mood, meaning, and narrative.

The title Àkókò translates to “time” or “season” in Yoruba. How does this concept of time influence the narrative and structure of the film?

Time is something every human can understand, and it shapes the way we experience life. In our fast-paced world, it’s easy to get caught up in what’s happening right now and forget to reflect on what has already passed. In Àkókò, the concept of time influenced not just the story, but the rhythm and structure of the film itself. The scenes are designed to create pauses, to let moments breathe, and to give the audience space to feel the weight and movement of time. It’s less about telling a story in a linear way and more about evoking the emotional and philosophical essence of living through seasons, moments that arrive, linger, and eventually pass.

I also strongly believe that we are ultimately the product of our decisions and the experiences we are exposed to. The film invites viewers to reconnect with their own sense of time, to notice how quickly it moves, and to consider how the present, past, and future are all intertwined in shaping how we live and perceive our existence.

The film reflects on the themes of time and life’s fleeting nature. In exploring these themes, what message do you hope audiences take away about cherishing the present moment?

I often think about how much of life passes by without us really noticing. Most people rarely pause to ask why they’re here or what their time truly means, and for many, it feels like we’re just existing because we were born. Àkókò is really about nudging that awareness, about being intentional with our moments and realizing that time is not just something we move through but something we inhabit.

I hope the film encourages audiences to slow down, to feel where they are in this space and time, and to truly cherish the present. It’s about understanding that even though life is fleeting, being conscious of the now can make all the difference in how we live and connect with the world around us. Making Àkókò was also a scary decision for me because it holds a very personal awakening. It reflects deeply how I feel and see the world now. I’m sure the cast and crew would say the same, as it asked all of us to engage with the story on a level that was both intimate and revealing.

The film explores Nigerian culture and potential spiritual elements. What specific cultural elements did you focus on, and what creative decisions did you make to authentically represent them?

I’ve always wanted to tell stories that stay true to my roots, particularly the Yoruba culture. I believe that being bold about one’s identity begins with embracing one’s culture and spiritual beliefs. In Àkókò, the presence of the masquerade (Egúngún) and the drummer (Àyàn) became central thematic elements for this reason. Within Yoruba tradition, the Egungun often communicates through divination, offering spiritual insight meant to guide the living. The Àyàn, in turn, interprets and translates these messages into rhythmic poetry. Together, they form a symbolic bridge in the film, subtly translating and connecting the narrative.

Authenticity was extremely important to me, especially in how African culture is represented on screen. We made deliberate creative decisions: sourcing an actual masquerade costume, using traditional props, and building our set within a real African market environment. Each of these choices was intentional, ensuring the film remained true, original, and respectful to the cultural elements it draws from.

What were the greatest creative challenges you faced during the production of Àkókò, and how did you navigate those to maintain your artistic vision?

The biggest creative challenge we faced was definitely the masquerade scene. We were about 70% through filming when an unexpected group, different from the traditionalists we had originally secured permission from, arrived on set. They claimed our masquerade was an impersonation and insisted on taking it to the Oba’s palace.

The situation immediately created tension, and we had to move the entire cast and crew to a safe space while involving the appropriate authorities to resolve it. Throughout it all, I made sure to stay calm and positive, especially since we still had two more scenes scheduled to shoot before wrapping production that same day. Outside of that incident, most of our challenges were related to time constraints. But even with the disruptions, we stayed focused and found ways to protect the vision and complete the project without compromising its integrity.

How do you describe your directorial style, and which filmmakers or storytelling traditions have influenced your work?

I’m currently in an age of exploration, if I’m being honest. My work naturally leans toward surrealism, largely because of my background in painting, but I’m not committed to a single directorial style. I enjoy pulling elements from different traditions and techniques, allowing each project to guide what the style becomes. I’ve spent time studying several masters, just to name a few: Alfred Hitchcock for his suspense and inventive storytelling techniques, Martin Scorsese for his handling of theme, and David Lynch for his bold embrace of surrealism. My journey into cinema even started in the late 19th century with the Lumière brothers, Georges Méliès, and then into the talkie era. These filmmakers and the unique ways they interpret the world and have contributed to the art of cinema has shaped my appreciation for experimentation. Rather than locking myself into one signature style, I prefer to stay open, absorb, and explore, allowing my voice to evolve naturally across different forms and influences.

Your films, Àkókò and Dirty especially, are minimalist and filmmaking often involves balancing artistic vision with practical constraints (budget, logistics, etc.). How do you approach this balance?

The minimalism in Dirty (18+) is closely tied to the story’s structure, which is told from the perspective of an isolated character. Àkókò is similarly story-driven. These films were approached from a “one man’s world” point of view, which naturally creates a “less is more” effect, focusing on the essentials and allowing the audience to engage more deeply with the story. That said, when a story or project calls for a more elaborate approach, I’m willing to go the extra mile to tell it fully and truthfully. For me, balancing artistic vision with practical constraints is about understanding what the story truly needs and finding creative ways to deliver it without compromising its integrity.

On casting and collaboration: How do you typically work with actors and creatives who understand the depth and language of your directorial vision? 

The first thing I always ask actors or collaborators is, “Would you love to be part of this project?” I lead with passion, and I need everyone involved to carry that same energy. We can only create something meaningful when the people on it genuinely love what they’re doing. That was exactly the case with Àkókò. After sending the script to Sinmileoluwa Hassan and Moshood Fattah, I had individual conversations with each of them, not just to confirm their interest, but to make sure they truly wanted to be part of the project. I also made it clear that they were coming on as collaborators, not just performers, because of the depth and sensitivity of the story we were telling. And trust me, they were incredible to work with. For me, passion comes first. It builds trust, and that trust gives me the freedom and courage to share what I feel and think, knowing everyone is fully aligned and committed to the journey with me.

Àkókò screened at AFRIFF 2025. What other screening avenues and spaces are you exploring and why? 

Àkókò is one of those films created more for a communal experience than for festivals alone. In the coming months, our plan is to organize a screening tour across film schools, universities, and other public spaces. We made the film with a great deal of intentionality, and we want as many people as possible to experience it together in shared spaces before moving toward a public release. The goal is to let the film breathe among audiences, spark conversations, and allow its themes to resonate fully.