Who is Nollywood Making Films For?

In 2024, African International Film Festival (AFRIFF) screened Robert Peters’ Skeleton Coast. The film was mostly uneventful. What was eventful was the producer, Rogers Ofime’s words during the post-screening conversation. The Namibian executive producers and lead, Panashe & Tjuna Daringo, the husband-and-wife team behind Mondjila Studios, wanted to show the film at AFRIFF and possibly at Nigerian theatres. But, Ofime, the film’s producer, advised against it. Nigerians aren’t keen to watch Christopher Nolan-esque films. The message was clear,the Nigerian audience isn’t a thinking one, and supposedly “hard” and “intellectually heavy” films aren’t staples. 

That comment, the truth and banality of it, has stayed with me since then. In 2025, Stanley Obi’s Love in Every Word which was released on Omoni Oboli’s YouTube channel and monopolized Nigerians’ attention. The film and its sequel had been critiqued for its simplistic and unprogressive storytelling. These criticisms were met with responses that subtly justified Ofime’s words, dismissing the artistic and logical importance of discussing film as a medium. A Culture Custodian essay describes this as distrust of critical thinking and rise of anti-intellectaualism. “They also, subtly, scorn viewers who attempt to critically look at these films. This cancer-like dislike and distrust of dissenting critical appraisal of a film motivate opposition to well-made and executed films and TV series. It bolsters filmmakers’ confidence level to keep churning out films that rarely deserve serious interrogation.” 

Nigerian mainstream filmmakers and audiences are unfined in their summation: “Nigeria is hard. The audience is appreciative of sloppy stories that don’t compel rigorous and reflective thinking.” And, as defeatist as this sound, it’s true. Nigerians are hardworking, but with surging inflation, insecurity that spreads death, dearth of social amenities and continued taxation, tolerance for high art is low. But, there exists a different class of Nigerian filmmakers which people like Kunle Afolyan belong to. They are confident that the Nigerian films they make are for “intellectuals”. In Afolayan’s filmmaking manifesto, “scholars, deep thinkers, professors and future-conscious thinkers” are who they are making films for. And, honestly, there exist a long list of Nigerian academics and scholars from Prof. Hyginus Ekwuazi, Jonathan Haynes, Prof. Femi Okiremuette Shaka, Prof. Onookome Okome, Dr. Elizabeth Olayiwola and lecturers at the Pan-Atlantic University (Lagos), headed by Dr. Ikechukwu Obiaya who have dedicated their life and academic career to producing research papers and books around Nigerian cinema. But, the existence of these film scholars and academics doesn’t justify the alienating statements of filmmakers in this class. When films enter public domain, they become “property” of the public, intellectual or not, who commit time and resources to engaging with it. 

Conversely, in mainstream Nollywood, there exist two categories of filmmakers : the ones that make films for intellectuals and for the unthinking masses. There’s a pretension among members of both groups that they are different. But, any serious look though the filmography of filmmakers in both categories shows their unity: a priority for feeble storytelling, absence of coherent storylines and willful misunderstanding of timelines. These filmmakers, unmindful of the class they belong to, enjoy mainstream attention, commercial acceptance and awards. Their mainstream and commercial recognition makes them hard to ignore. 

It’s why it becomes important to ask, firstly, who does Nollywood make films for? The uneducated or educated Nigerian? The working, middle or ruling class Nigerian? And, what do Nigerian filmmakers mean when they categorise audiences into the thinking and unthinking class? To answer this, we have to distinguish between intelligence (the ability to solve problems) and intellectualism (the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake). Nigerians are generally and exceptionally resourceful and street-smart. The existence of the Nigerian film industry, despite limited government and institutional support, is proof. But “intellectualism”—deep, theoretical thinking— is almost non-existent. Why? Knowledge production has faced significant challenges over the decades due to the country’s economic and political climate.

As misguided as these filmmakers are, their admissions are reflective of Nigeria’s  socio-economic space. Survival overrides intellectual efforts. Nigerians, courtesy of the struggling economy, view knowledge or its pursuits through a purely utilitarian lens. If a book, film or a degree doesn’t immediately translate into “how to make money,” or, in this case, provide dopamine effect, it’s dismissed as irrelevant. Cue the popular “school na scam” phrase. Nigerians are inundated with images of educated but struggling professors that the motivation for deep thinking or intellectual pursuit has waned. Thus, when a Nollywood filmmaker says they aren’t making films for “film enthusiasts” and “critics”, they are subconsciously accepting and normalising the ongoing rot that the Nigerian educational system has become. 

While formal intellectualism is under pressure, the average Nigerian is incredibly intellectually engaged in daily life. The quality of conversation might be abysmal but Nigerians hold conversation in public spaces: newspaper stands, sport centers, bus and recreational centres. But, the Nigerian mind has been systematically beaten into submission. History was banished from Nigerian classrooms some years ago.  The success of Femi Adebayo’s King of Thieves gave rise to epic films made from historical figures. The rise of these films in Nigerian cinemas are purely commercial not  cultural but they point at a truth: Nigerian filmmakers and by extension other creatives, can become the custodians and propellers of public discourse and knowledge production. 

Nollywood films are concerned with the quotidian matter of the man and woman in the street. The films are stripped of the grammar of global cinema. But, it meditates on the realities of the everyday Nigerian. It focuses and contextualises local and national conversation. The films are consumed at orthodox and unorthodox and legal and illegal locations. Nollywood responds, on a daily basis, to the social and economic dynamics of the Nigerian environment. The metaphors embedded in its narratives provide audio-visual evidence to the many questions of everyday existence in the Nigerian political climate. Thus, since its inception, Nollywood films and TV series have always been for and by the people. But, this violent categorization of Nigerians into the thinking and unthinking class is ahistorical. Violent and ahistorical because it wilfully and proudly alienates the audience it’s supposed to serve. This categorization also fails to contend with the political system that has, for decades, ensured the continuous degrading of education and knowledge production. 

The Nigerian political class don’t want a thinking mass. To break the spine of public intellectual discourse and thinking, education has to be monumentally underfunded. This means that Nigerians have to painfully wave education goodbye. This has been systematically normalised. A state Governor platformed Peller. Best Graduating students are given slim and meagre financial prizes. There’s no conscious investment in education and knowledge production. This is the grime reality of the Nigerian cultural landscape. 

When Fela Anikulapo Kuti  started making music in the late 1950s, the decision to make music in Pidgin English wasn’t because he’s uneducated (he has his elite school certificates to counter that) or not fluent in “standard” English. For the Afrobeat singer and revolutionary artist, he made a conscious political and artistic choice to use Pidgin to expand the reach and accessibility of his music. Nigeria has over 500 indigenous languages and Pidgin English is a linguistic unifier of some sort. The language allowed him to bridge the class divide. Thus, in my interpretation, when Fela wrote and performed Zombie, Water No Get Enemy, Beasts of No Nation and others in Pidgin English, it was also a conscious recognition of how isolating “intellectualism” can be. And, as a revolutionary artist, he wanted the masses to listen and act on his conscious music. This makes it conceivable to say that a possible reading of Afolayan’s message will be to say that Nigerian filmmakers want intellectually conscious conversations around Nigerian films. But, as have been repeatedly said, these films don’t merit “intellectual” discourse. 

To conclude, when Nollywood says it makes films for the non-thinking and thinking audience, what’s it directly and indirectly admitting to? Is it an admission that the average Nigerian audience is anti-intellectual? Is it that Nigerians just want escapist films and TV series that don’t demand mental rigour? Is it subtle framing that Nigerian films can be the site of intellectual conversations?