Sixty-five years ago, Nigeria gained her independence from British colonial rule following a series of events and agitations from both everyday Nigerian and Pan-Africanist movements. For the newly independent country, there was hope that independence would inspire political stability, economic prosperity, and national unity. These hopes formed the foundation of the independence movement and patriotic zest of Nigerians pushing for independence. The Independence Day celebration was a state affair where citizens acknowledged the national significance of freedom. It wasn’t just another random rest day from capitalist activities nor another free day from academic activities for students. The day and activities around it were entombed with national consciousness of the significance of the day and citizens do these independence day activities with patriotic zest and passion. But, sixty five years later, not only has the annual Independence Day march been suspended, the high hope for a sovereign, politically stable and economic prosperity for Nigerian citizens is not the reality of the average working-class Nigerians. In 2020, the Nigerian flag was stained with the blood of young, patriotic and protesting youth during the EndSars Protest. The Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU) is on another strike. Nigerians lost their lives to avoidable infrastructural and systemic negligence. Yesterday, Arise News anchor, Somtochukwu Christelle Maduagwu lost her life to a robbery incident at her residence in Katampe, Abuja. Banditry and terrorist-incline activities keep rising like Nigerian’s inflation. In summary, Nigeria keeps running and ruining, directed by the ruling class and Nigerian politicians, its economic, political and social life and that of its citizens.
Sixty-five years later, Nigeria is synonymous with tragedy and its citizens, move and swagger through life, despite their suffering-and-smiling deposition, with the realization that they’re one-step away from a systemic tragedy. The Nigerian film industry, Nollywood and its filmmakers’ films are repositories of social, cultural, political and economic instability that has firmly hugged the country. The films, through conscious and unconscious artistic acts, serve as a willing document and archive of these social and political realities. That the films provide a cement-heavy or foamy critique of these social issues aren’t of immediate importance. But, their presence is an indication of how cinema, unmindful of the filmmakers’ politics, carries a political and socially conscious identity. As a time capsule, cinema and the Nigerian titles this essay will be referencing, provide a cinematic look into the Nigerian past. They offer a glance into the Nigerian past. Thus, at 65 years, what do Nollywood and Nigerian filmmakers think about Nigeria independence?
Kunle Afolayan’s October 1 is pivotal to discussing Nigeria’s independence not because of its eponymous titling but because as Yinka Adetu contested in a retrospective essay, Afolayan frames the film as a national treasure and important filmic representation of Nigeria’s identity, culture, and traditions. “The movie has the potential to stimulate meaningful conversations about crucial aspects of Nigerian history and societal issues, offering a space for collective reflection.” The film, set in September 1960, a month before Nigeria’s independence, is filled with the skeptic and convinced voices of average Nigerians about independence. On the optimistic plane are Waziri and Mr Olaitan, the school headmaster, who believe independence will advance the country’s political, economic and tribal tensions and conflicts. In contrast, Prince Aderopo and others are sceptical and concerned about this programmed independence believing it’s a hasty move capable of throwing the county into war. In 2025, there’s still reported electoral interference from imperialist countries with established capitalist interests. It’s undeniable the subservient acceptance of imperialistic influences and policies in the country’s electoral and political policies. This raises concern about the country’s supposed sovereignty. The economic power and control the International Monetary Fund (IMF) has on the Nigerian’s economy and political landscape is debatable. But, its backing of Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s anti-citizens’ policies and economic reforms aren’t debatable. Again, this casts some doubt on Nigeria’s supposed sovereignty and ability to decide its destiny and future outside of foreign and cannibalistic influences.
Ema Edosio-Deelen’s When Nigeria Happens which is currently in its film festival circuits tour shows in a non-compromising and raw manner how Nigeria can happen to a Nigerian. The film’s characters have to navigate a city and country that doesn’t accommodate their artistic practice as dancers, exploitative musicians and a dead health care system. Although as Edosio-Deelen in an interview with Culture Custodian mentioned, she doesn’t set out to make political films, her characters and their day-to-day activities and interactions are political. The characters’ interactions make them come in contact with political, economic and systemic failures. For instance, Fagbo, the film’s lead, gets illegally detained after reporting his ailing mother as being missing. The absence of a functional and equipped hospital to treat his mother is another reality Fagbo contends with. Fagbo’s reality samples that of the average and ruling class Nigerians. It shows how Nigerians, unmindful of their social class and affinity with wealth, are subjected to systemic failures. Another indication of this systemic failure is the recent Lagos flooding which has been drowning the urban and overpriced city for years.
Education is another indication of how stunted Nigeria’s economy is. In sixty five years, the country’s education system has been on a consistent slouch towards ruin. School fees are constantly hiked and university education is now an elusive dream for average Nigerians. ASUU is constantly on strike due to the Nigerian government’s lip service to meeting the union’s demands. In 1998, Tade Ogidan, wrote, directed and produced Diamond Ring featuring the story of a middle-class Chidi, the only child of his parents, Dike and Ijeoma. The film shows how Bimbo, a working-class Nigerian, finds it chronically hard to fund her education. Bimbo of the 90s can be found in almost every Nigerian university. Children of working-class Nigerians are compelled to do strenuous, demanding, often illegal activities to fund their university education. And, with the flood of hike increments that swept through the country in 2024, it has resulted in many students dropping out of university.
Chuko and Arie Esiri’s Eyimofe is another filmic indication of how deeply rooted Nigeria’s political and economic influence affects its citizens. The absence of well-paying jobs, infrastructural challenges and uncertainty motivates the japa wave. This film and others like Dika Ofoma’s A Japa Tale and Isioma Osaje’s JAPA!, reveals, in varying artistic and directorial choices, how the country forces citizens to leave their ancestral home. These choices of these films’ characters are often tied towards economic independence, frustration about their status, educational and career choices. What they justify is the inability of the successive post-independence governments to offer a decent, not to say a lasting, solution to these social, educational and systemic problems. Young Nigerians are escaping the country for fully and partly funded admissions at foreign institutions. Nigerian nurses, doctors and lecturers are leaving in large numbers. According to The Nigeria Immigration Service (NIS) a staggering over 3.6 million Nigerians legally migrated to other countries between 2023 and 2025. Nigerians like the ones in the referenced films keep leaving the country and the government is less concerned about it.
Tade Ogidan’s Owoblow: The Genesis is “dedicated to the struggling masses of this country and the gradually disappearing middle class.” The three-part film follows the story of Wole, the eldest son of Owolabi, a man passionate about social justice. Owolabi’s pursuit of justice leads to his unlawful arrest and imprisonment which eventually resulted in his death. Owolabi’s imprisonment and his family’s search for ways to free him drains this one-income family wealth. Thus, a relatively comfortable family starts relying on handouts from neighbors and family members who are also facing the pangs of the harsh economic climate. Produced in 1995, the film shows how Nigeria’s systemic failure and injustice affects a Nigerian family. When Wole, his sister and their mother started looking for illegal means to provide food and shelter for themselves, it’s not their moral or personal failing. It’s an indication of how the country is capable of turning the most conscious and educated Nigerians into a hunter looking for prey to pounce on. Tunde Kelani’s Saworoide, on the other hand, aside from being one of the best Nigerian classics, provides a critical look into a Nigerian government official’s corruption and misrule. Produced in 1999, this political drama which relies on Yoruba folklore, music, and symbolism, tells the story of Nigeria using the fictional town of Jogbo, where corrupt and power-hungry rulers are resident. To gain political power, a predestined king and his family are assassinated by desperate rulers. This is similar to the ballot snatching, election rigging and other illegal activities that the Nigerian electoral cycle is known for. Akinola Davies’ My Father Shadow, set in 1993 also looks into the historic and annulled 1993 Presidential election. In Davies’ semi-autobiographical film, the director points camera at the political, social and economic tension and tragedy the annulment by General Ibrahim Babaginda caused. Moshood Kashimawo Olawale Abiola (MKO) of Social Democratic Party (SDP) won the election, but the General IBB denied the lawful transition to civilian rule to take place. IBB’s decision sparked a national protest that led to the arrest and death of protesting Nigerians which My Father Shadow captures in its runtime. Recently, the General admitted to MKO rightfully winning the election. But, three decades after, who and what does this admittance benefit? Ogidan, Kelani and Davies’ films show how unprogressive the country remains.
As these Nigerian films show, there’s almost nothing worth dancing about as Nigeria turns sixty-five today. Police brutality, rising inflation, avoidable deaths, diminishing middle-class, and a charged political climate are the results of Nigeria at sixty-five. From all indications, the Nigerian ruling elite and government officials aren’t interested in changing these political and socio-economic situations. These politicians and their children can easily jet out of the country to access education, health care and safe terrain. But, at home, the country they rule is suffering from herders’ attack, journalists are targeted and harassed, case in point, the scene in Kelani’s Saworoide where a journalist was harassed by the Jogbo chiefs and the economic situation hasn’t improved for its populace. As Nigeria turns sixty-five, it’s important to ask who it benefits.
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