Nollywood

The concept of “Old” and “New” Nollywood – A false and offensive partition

By Teco Benson, MFR

One of the most intellectually dishonest and damaging narratives in recent years is the partitioning of Nollywood into “Old” and “New.” It’s a simplistic label that started as a casual argument among a few younger practitioners but has unfortunately crept into academic discourse and mainstream industry conversations. This idea is not only divisive, but deeply offensive to the legacy of the industry and to those who built it from the ground up.

There is no such thing as Old Nollywood or New Nollywood. There is only Nollywood—a continuous, evolving industry built on layers of sweat, sacrifice, creativity, and resilience. What some choose to call “New” is not a replacement of the “Old”; it is a progression made possible because of the foundational work of the pioneers.

What many fail to understand is that our storytelling essence has not changed. The values, themes, cultural textures, and emotional core of Nollywood have remained consistent through the years. What has changed—and continues to change—is technology, and that is not unique to Nollywood; it’s a global phenomenon across all creative industries.

Even during the analogue years of Nollywood’s emergence, there were constant technological shifts. The iconic 1992 film Living in Bondage, which benchmarked the Nollywood movement, was shot on Super VHS. To improve quality, filmmakers soon transitioned to U-matic cameras and their full post-production systems. After that came Betacam, which was adopted for both shooting and editing. Then came MiniDV, followed by DVCAM—a digital video format that coincided with the arrival of non-linear editing.

This shift from linear to non-linear editing was revolutionary. It allowed filmmakers to use computers to seamlessly edit and manipulate captured footage—something unthinkable during the earlier years when it was strictly garbage in, garbage out. In those days, whatever was captured in-camera was exactly what the audience would see. There was no room for error. This forced cinematographers, sound recordists, and directors to train rigorously, work with precision, and strive for excellence at every stage of production.

From DVCAM, the industry moved to HDV (High Definition Video)—the final tape-based format—before embracing tapeless high-definition systems using memory cards. That ushered in a digital revolution, and Nollywood embraced it with open arms. Suddenly, filmmakers had tools to correct errors, grade visuals, enhance sound, and polish rough footage. As a result, even inexperienced filmmakers could produce glossy-looking films. But what this also meant was that those trained in the era of analogue discipline had a stronger professional foundation—having learned to get it right at the point of capture, rather than fixing it in post.

Today, technology continues to evolve—from 2K to 4K, 6K, 8K, 12K, and beyond. Tomorrow will bring even more shifts. But through it all, filmmaking has remained constant. The values, the voice, and the cultural richness of Nollywood have endured.

Another major transformation lies in distribution and audience reach. In the early days, Nollywood was feeding the Nigerian nation alone. Films were sold as physical cassettes and distributed within the country. Ironically, it was pirates—not formal distributors—who duplicated these tapes and spread Nollywood films across Africa, the Caribbean, and among global diaspora communities. This unintended export planted the seeds of the industry’s global influence.

Today, with the internet and streaming platforms, national borders no longer exist in the virtual world. Once a film is uploaded online, it instantly becomes global content. The filmmaker’s audience is no longer a town, a state, or a country—it is the world. And with that expanded reach comes intentionality. Scripts are now written with global standards in mind, stories are told with international audiences considered, and production decisions are made to meet the expectations of a diverse, global viewer base.

These changes are natural. They are part of the organic evolution of any thriving creative ecosystem. It doesn’t make the early days “old” or “outdated.” It doesn’t elevate the present generation above those who came before. If anything, it emphasises the need for continuity, respect, and intergenerational collaboration.

To classify pioneers as “Old Nollywood” is to ignore their innovations and the fierce battles they fought to establish the industry in the first place. It is to forget that there was once a time when there was no Nollywood—only brave individuals daring to tell African stories using whatever tools they could afford. They didn’t wait for validation. They created a movement.

What exists today—the funding, the streaming platforms, the global attention—was made possible because a group of passionate dreamers picked up VHS cameras and believed their stories were worth telling.

This is why the “Old vs. New Nollywood” narrative must be retired. It is reductionist, divisive, and counterproductive. Every generation has its own tools, challenges, and breakthroughs. But the spirit of storytelling, the soul of our culture, and the purpose of our cinema remain the same.

Let’s stop building walls within the house we all call home. Nollywood is one—past, present, and future.

Teco Benson, MFR, is a veteran film director, industry pioneer and cultural commentator.

Sex-for-role: Breaking the cycle of sexual harassment in the entertainment industry

‎By Abdulhakeem Yetu Zakari

‎Despite growing awareness, sexual exploitation continues to cast a dark shadow over the entertainment industry in Nigeria and elsewhere. Behind the glitz and glamour, many aspiring talents face coercion, harassment, and abuse in their pursuit of success. Stronger policies, accountability, and systemic change are urgently needed to create a safer industry.

‎Sexual exploitation in entertainment is an open secret that has persisted for decades. It manifests in various forms, from coercion and harassment to outright trafficking. Vulnerable individuals, often young and inexperienced, are preyed upon by those in positions of power. The “sex-for-role” culture, in which opportunities are exchanged for sexual favors, remains alarmingly prevalent. Those who resist or speak out risk being blacklisted, experiencing retaliation, or even being driven out of the industry entirely.

‎The entertainment world thrives on connections, and unfortunately, this has allowed predators to operate with impunity. Victims, fearing career sabotage or public shaming, often remain silent. The imbalance of power between industry gatekeepers and struggling artists makes it even harder to challenge abusive behaviours.

‎The #MeToo movement, which gained global traction in 2017, was a watershed moment. Survivors courageously came forward, exposing influential figures like Harvey Weinstein and forcing the industry to confront its deep-seated issues. This sparked widespread discussions, policy changes, and an increased demand for accountability.‎

Despite the above strides, exploitation remains a pressing issue. While some perpetrators have been held accountable, many still evade justice. Survivors continue to face obstacles in their pursuit of legal recourse, with cases often dismissed or settlements used to silence victims.

‎Ending sexual exploitation in entertainment requires more than just conversations, it demands concrete action:

‎Stronger Legal Frameworks – Governments and industry regulators must enforce stricter policies against workplace harassment and sexual exploitation. Clear legal consequences should deter potential offenders.

‎Whistleblower Protection – Survivors and witnesses should be able to report abuse without fear of retaliation. Anonymous reporting systems and legal safeguards are crucial.

‎Industry Accountability – Entertainment companies must adopt zero-tolerance policies for misconduct, conduct thorough background checks, and establish independent oversight committees to investigate allegations.

‎Empowering Victims – Access to legal aid, mental health support, and career counselling can help survivors rebuild their lives. Platforms that amplify their voices must be encouraged.

‎Changing the Culture – Education on consent, power dynamics, and ethical professional relationships should be integrated into industry training programs. A shift in mindset is necessary to dismantle the normalisation of abuse.

‎ The fight against sexual exploitation in entertainment is far from over. Every stakeholder, from industry executives to audiences, plays a role in demanding transparency, justice, and respect for all talents. Only through sustained pressure and institutional reform can we ensure an industry where success is based on talent, not exploitation.

‎It is not just a matter of morality but of fundamental human rights. The time to act is now.

Abdulhakeem Yetu Zakari is an intern with PRNigeria. He can be reached via abdulhakeemzakari7@gmail.com.

Tribute to the late Abdu Kano, Karkuzu

By Sani Mu’azu

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihir rajiun.

It is with a heavy heart that I mourn the passing of my dear elder colleague, friend, and legendary actor Abdu Kano, famously known as Karkuzu.

I had the privilege of knowing Karkuzu for over 40 years, and I can confidently attest that he was an exceptional talent who left an indelible mark on the Nigerian film industry. His versatility as an actor was unmatched, effortlessly transitioning between comedic and serious roles with ease.

One of my most cherished memories of working with Karkuzu was on the hit Radio Drama, Karambana – a dawo lafiya. Paired alongside the iconic Kasimu Yero and the legendary Hausa Pop Singer Sani Dan Indo, Karkuzu, who played the role of Liba, brought his unique energy to the project, which became an instant sensation among truck drivers and freelance workers. Before then and even after, we worked together on several film projects, including the early version of the movie Amina, where he played the role of Sankira along with Pete Edochie, shot around 1998.

What struck me most about Karkuzu was his resilience and dedication to his craft. Despite facing numerous life challenges, including health issues, he continued to act well into his old age, inspiring countless young actors and actresses along the way.

As we bid farewell to this Nigerian film icon, I pray that Allah SWT grants his soul eternal rest in Jannat Firdausi. May his family, friends, and the entire Nigerian film industry find the strength and fortitude to bear this immense loss. Ameen.

Rest in peace, Mallam Karkuzu. Your legacy will live on through the countless lives you touched and the unforgettable characters you brought to life.

HardFacts Studios to premier “The Bitter Feminist” docudrama series

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

HardFacts Studios has announced the upcoming premiere of The Bitter Feminist, a docudrama series that addresses the challenges faced by women in Nigeria and sub-Saharan Africa. 

Set to debut at the iRep Festival in Lagos in March 2025, the series, created by Daniel Chukwuemeka and Ijeoma Chinonyerem, centres on Ringret, a young woman from Northern Nigeria who endured rape and forced marriage.

Co-creator Ijeoma Chinonyerem stated, “This project is significant for us. It’s about giving [a] voice to women whose stories often go unheard and challenging narratives perpetuating inequality.”

The five-episode series illustrates the lives of women identifying as feminists, highlighting their resistance to traditional gender roles. Through impactful storytelling and candid interviews, The Bitter Feminist addresses critical issues, including misogyny, child marriage, and consent. 

Directed by Priye Diri and produced by Isaac Newton Akah, the series promises to empower viewers and stimulate meaningful conversations about gender inequality.

Umar Maikudi, new MOPPAN President, urges collaboration in Nigerian film industry

By Muhsin Ibrahim

Umar Maikudi, also known as Cashman, was elected as the National President of the Motion Picture Practitioners Association of Nigeria (MOPPAN) at an event held in Nasarawa State on 18 January 2025.

As the newly elected National President, Maikudi expressed gratitude and enthusiasm for collaborating with filmmakers and film scholars to explore potential partnerships that could benefit the film industry. 

In a message sent to media houses across Nigeria, the president stated, “Let’s work together to drive growth and development in the sector.”

Maikudi concluded by encouraging others to “feel free to reach out to me to discuss potential collaborations and partnerships.”

Hailing from Kaduna, Maikudi has been a film scholar and actor for many years. He has appeared in several films, including the Netflix series War: Wrath and Revenge, part of the famed Sons of the Caliphate drama.

Nigeria selects Kannywood film ‘Mai Martaba’ as Oscars official entry

By Habibu Maaruf Abdu

Nigeria has selected the Kannywood film ‘Mai Martaba’ as its official submission for the Best International Feature Film (IIF) category at the 97th Academy Awards, also known as Oscars.

The 15-member Nigerian Official Selection Committee (NOSC) confirmed in its official statement that the selection was made after a rigorous voting session.

Mai Martaba is a historical epic featuring 500 actors that showcases northern Nigeria’s rich cultural heritage. It tells the story of the succession struggle between competing claimants for the throne of the fictitious Jallaba Kingdom.

Reacting to the selection, the film’s director, Prince Daniel Aboki, expressed his delight, adding, “It is a privilege to represent our country at this prestigious global event.” 

He added, “Mai Martaba is more than just a story; it’s a celebration of our culture, struggles, and triumphs as Nigerians. We’re bringing the voices and stories of our people to the global stage, sharing the heart of Nigeria with the world.” 

The film, which stands as the most expensive Kannywood production, was also selected for the Septimus Awards in Amsterdam before its theatrical release in Nigeria in July 2024.

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS), which organises the Oscars, confers the IFF Award yearly to a feature-length film produced outside the US with at least 50% non-English dialogue.

A shortlist of 15 finalists will be revealed on December 17, 2024, followed by the announcement of the final five nominees on January 17, 2025.

This marks the second time a Hausa film has been selected for the Oscars, following The Milkmaid (directed by Ovbiagele, 2020).

However, unlike The Milkmaid, whose Kannywood identity is disputed, Mai Martaba is a bona fide Kannywood production, proudly representing the Hausa film industry’s cinematic talent.

The 97th Oscars will be held on March 2, 2025, at the Dolby Theatre in Ovation Hollywood, Los Angeles, and will be broadcast live to over 200 territories worldwide.

A feminist reading of Jammaje’s Nanjala

  • Production:    Jammaje production
  • Producer:       Abubakar Bashir Maishadda
  • Director:        Ali Nuhu
  • Cast:               Sani Mu’azu, Ali Nuhu, Nancy Isime, Enyinna Ngwige, Rabi’u Rikadawa, Segun Arzine, Abba Al-Mustapha, Asabe Madak, Abba Zaki.

Nanjala, an eponymous and one of the most expensive movies in the Kannywood industry by Jammaje Production, is a breathtaking movie that explores and thematises patriarchal power, domination and mistreatment towards women gender. Nanjala, a leading character, is victimised by her chauvinistic father, who disbands her for being a female in favour of a male child, Dititi (Abba Zaki). Captain Jimmoh (Rikadawa) becomes her adopted father and helps to actualise her dream of becoming a renowned journalist.

Furthermore, Captain Sembene’s family is set on fire as his beloved son, Ditit, becomes a spoiled child, drug addict, thief and clubgoer. Plus, his other female daughter, Jarry, takes a leave from home for her father’s chauvinistic mistreatment. Falmata, another victim of Captain Sembene’s chauvinism, befriends her biological brother, Ditit, with a view to wed him.

Nanjala becomes a renowned and influential journalist who tirelessly fights and exposes corruption in the government. She encounters obstacles along the way from the authority. She is detained in cells for exposing corruption. Finally, she appears triumphant.

Mistreatment and domination are long-held traditions shown to women by a patriarchal world. Women, as chauvinists maintain, are disaster and second-class citizens who can’t contribute to one iota of life. In those days, women had to cancel their identities to have their voices heard—the same as Nanjala has to take a leave from a patriarchal home to attain her potential. 

Thomas Aquinas (1274) opines, “A woman is really an imperfect man… an incidental being … a botched man’’. Nanjala’s treatment by her father affirms Aquinas’s stance that women are imperfect and a botched to her male brother, Dititi. Plus, according to Baudelaire, “woman is natural, that is abominable’’ Some men consider women disgusting. This perception runs through Nanjala’s father, who finds the female gender abominable – divorcing Falmata’s mother for carrying a female unborn child, making life unbearable to Majuma (Asabe Madaki) and causing a great aspersion on Nanjal and Jarry, whom all are females. They have to leave their homes to feel at home.

The belief that women are nothing but second-class citizens, abominable and sex machines for men to exploit became prevalent during the Victorian period (1837-1901) and also in plenty of their literature. We see the fate of Susan Henchad, who is auctioned in Thomas Hardy’s The Mayor of Caster Bridge (1886), women who are sexually exploited by men at Sixa in Mango Beti’s Poor Christ of Bomba (1956) and Firdaus’s sexual abuse by men in Women at Point Zero (1975). Likewise, patriarchal domination doesn’t put a halt here but tries to silence any emerging powerful female voice. 

Women like Gorge Eliat (1919-1880), Gorge Sand (1904-1876), Charlotte Bronte (1816-1855), etc., succumb to patriarchal pressure and accept defeat to vie with men intellectually and literarily. Comparatively, Nanjala encounters the same treatment, where patriarchs try to silence her intellect and voice. They envy her fame, success, and education. Men are jealous of women’s successes, but Nanjala struggles and succeeds. 

For women to succeed in the patriarchal world, they have to be educated, pushed, and struggled. We see how women break the bonds. Li succeeds in The Stillborn (1984) via struggle and education, as Ada in Second-class Citizens(1974). Also, we see in the Kannywood movies- Hauwa Kulu (2019) where Hauwa (Hasana Muhammad) and Laila (Hadiza Gabon) in Manyan Mata (2023 succeed through education. However, Firdaus in Women at Point Zero (1975) and Nnu Egu in The Joys of Motherhood (1980) fail because they are illiterate or barely educated.

Meanwhile, Simone De Beauvoir (1908-1986) asserts that “males define what it means to be human, including what to be female. Since the female is not male”. Beauvoir maintains, “She becomes another”. Indeed, this derogatory portrayal has been born by females throughout many centuries. In the film, Nanjala’s father has this perception run in his blood. He evidently defines who a human being is to him, his male child, Ditti.  He loathes all his three daughters – Nanjala, Jarry, Falmata and Majuma because they are “others”. Women become secondary or non-existent players. 

Finally, Beauvoir asserts, “Women must break the bonds of their patriarchal society and define themselves if they wish to be a significant human”. This is what Nanjala does, and she becomes a “being” in the patriarchal society. Meanwhile, Kate Millet (1970) says, “A female is born, but a woman is created”. As Nanjala defines herself as a true human being, discarding the notion of femaleness in her, she creates womanness, as Millet (1970) puts it, through hard work, education, struggle, and boldness.

By way of conclusion, Nanjala mirrors patriarchal society and uncovers stereotypical portrayal of women as “others”, Second-Class Citizens, incidental beings, imperfect men, and abominable and other derogatory names forced women to accept by men. The film depicts the power of education and struggles as the only means for women to break the long-held tradition enjoyed by men and bury women’s intellect.

If not for education, Nanjala would have been buried alive like other female characters. The film is a clarion call to women to be educated, to disown being relegated to non-existent players or “others”. Nanjala succeeds and becomes a “human being”, whereas Majuma, Jarry and Falmata become second-class citizens.

Reviewed by Abba Musa Ibrahim. He can be reached via abbamusa6888@gmail.com.

Kannywood Movie Review: MAI MARTABA

Company: Blackville Media

Director: Prince Daniel (Aboki)

Producers: Aliyu Ahmad, Egor Efiok, Bature Zambuk, Shehu Bala Kabara

Language: Hausa

Cast: Adam A. Zango, Ghali Abdallah DZ, Auwalu Isma’il Marshall, Fatima Muhammad, Maryam Usman Shuaibu, Mukhtar Aminu etc.

Release date (Nigeria): 19-7-2024

It’s no longer news that TV series have recently dominated the Kannywood filmmaking sphere. However, Prince Daniel Aboki produced an epic period film titled Mai Martaba in a bold move to revitalize the film industry. The film, roughly based on the popular Arewa Radio drama series Kasar Jallaba, has generated immense excitement among fans eager to see the gripping story come alive on screen.

Made on a sweeping budget of over ₦125 million, Mai Martaba surpassed Nanjala (which had a budget of over ₦65 million) to become Kannywood’s most expensive production. But does it justify this substantial investment? I watched it on Sunday, and here is my review.

Mai Martaba is an exciting tale of a succession struggle among competing claimants for the throne of the Jallaba kingdom. The storyline unfolds through an omniscient narrator, beginning with a few flashbacks of the kingdom under the previous reign of the Agadashawa dynasty. Now occupied by the Jallabawa clan, a sacred decree secures the throne.

Before death, each king must name a successor from within the clan, ensuring the Agadashawas would never return to power. King Mu’azu honoured this legacy by naming Sanaya (Auwal Ismail Marshall) his heir, with a written agreement that Sanaya would one day pass the crown to Mu’azu’s son, Magajin Gari (Ghali Abdallah DZ). But Sanaya breaches the agreement and crowns his daughter, Princess Sangaya (Fatima Muhammad), as his successor, setting the stage for an intense power struggle.

Will Magajin Gari reclaim his birthright? Who is the other claimant to the throne? Can a female monarch win over the hearts of the Jallaba people? Find out in the cinemas.

The movie is generally captivating. However, with a short runtime of less than 90 minutes, the screenplay fails to do complete justice to the compelling story. It features little action scenes and ends quickly when it is supposed to be at its climax. For instance, there is a brave bandit kingpin, Shugaba (Adam A. Zango), whose brother was killed in the kingdom. He is in alliance with Magajin Gari. Driven by revenge, the two could have been shown in a fierce battle against the Jallaba kingdom, adding a dramatic action sequence to the film.

Also, as an adaptation of the Kasar Jallaba radio serial, apart from the setting and select character names, Mai Martaba shares minimal similarity with the original sourcing material. It’s somewhat like the American TV series House of the Dragons, where King Viserys appointed his female child, Princess Rhaenyra, as heir to the throne. The theme of ‘succession war’ is also prominent in many other local and international movies.

However, Mai Martaba remains a satisfactory period drama, boasting a spectacular setting and near-authentic period costumes. It may not be the most engaging Kannywood epic, but it could be the best in general production quality. Its exceptional cinematography and technical excellence is a breakthrough in the Hausa film industry. I salute the director, executive producer, and all other crew members.

The cast should also not be forgotten. Though it consists of new actors, they deliver impressive performances with good dialogue rendition. Ghali Abdallah DZ stands out as the ambitious Magajin Gari, plotting political machinations to get the throne. As Princess Sangaya, Fatima Muhammad was not given much scope but showed confidence in every scene she featured. Adam A. Zango (Shugaba) and Auwal Ismail Marshall (Sarki Sanaya) also deliver solid performances, fitting their roles perfectly.

Overall, Mai Martaba sets a benchmark for cinematic excellence in the Kannywood film industry. It’s a lavish epic film that justifies its hefty price tag. I strongly recommend it. Rating: 3.5/5.

Habibu Maaruf Abdu wrote from Kano. He can be reached via habibumaaruf11@gmail.com.

Kannywood/Nollywood film review: NANJALA (the Right Choice)

Company: Jammaje Productions

Director: Ali Nuhu

Producer: Abubakar Bashir Maishadda

Language: English

Cast: Nancy Isime, Sani Muazu, Sola Sabowale, Ali Nuhu, Enyinna Nwigwe, Rabi’u Rikadawa, Segun Arinze, Abba el-Mustapha, Asabe Madaki, Abba Zaki, etc.

Release date (Nigeria): 16-6-2024

After successful screenings in Turkey and the United States, the reportedly most expensive Kannywood movie, Nanjala, has finally hit our domestic screens. The movie is a groundbreaking attempt to bridge the gap between Northern Nigeria’s Kannywood and “mainstream” Nollywood by bringing actors from both industries together in a neutral setting and on an equal footing.

The film narrates the story of Nanjala (Nancy Isime), whose father, Captain Sembene (Sani Muazu), harbors a deep-seated disdain for female children. He, therefore, neglects his three daughters, focusing his care only on his son, Dititi (Abba Zaki). Nanjala has been a voracious reader with dreams of becoming a journalist since her childhood. However, her father’s constant discouragement makes his friend, Captain Jammoh Jummoh (Rabi’u Rikadawa), adopt her to help her realize her dreams.

Years later, Captain Sembene’s family falls apart. His favorite son, Dititi, becomes a drug addict, and his daughter, Jarry, leaves home, fed up with his mistreatment. Meanwhile, Nanjala achieves her dream of becoming a journalist but encounters problems with people in authority who want her to stop exposing their corrupt government.

How does the story unfold from there? Find out for yourself at Platinum Cinema.

The film addresses themes of women’s empowerment, the endurance of the human spirit, corruption, and moral decadence. It debunks the chauvinistic belief that female children are mere burdens to their parents and incapable of achieving greatness. We see how Nanjala suffers, initially at the hands of her chauvinistic father and later as a journalist hunted by a corrupt government. Despite these challenges, she overcomes her fears and insecurities to eventually emerge triumphant.

Nanjala is indeed a compelling film that has enough to hold viewers’ attention throughout its runtime. However, while it may lack attention-grabbing twists and turns, the wonderfully constructed screenplay and perfect use of flashbacks make it an enjoyable experience that you wish would never end. The cinematography is also spectacular, fully doing justice to the film’s scale. I haven’t enjoyed any Kannywood movie as much as this one recently. One must applaud the makers for their courage and financial strength in bringing such a big project to life.

The eponymous character seems to be inspired by Kenyan political analyst and activist Nanjala Nyabola. She also shares similarities with a character played by actress Miriam Osimbo in the Kenyan comedy series Hullaballoo Estate. Therefore, the film is likely to resonate with a broad African audience for that reason, and for its setting (a fictitious East African country), casting, character names, and universally relevant thematic preoccupations.

The film also deserves distinction marks for its English dialogue. The diction and flow of words are exceptional. What is even more interesting is how the Kannywood actors deliver their lines as flawlessly as their Nollywood counterparts in the cast. Thanks to Mallam Kabiru Musa Jammaje, the executive producer who pioneered the trend of “Kannywood films in English.”

In terms of performances, Nancy Isime fully immerses herself in the character of Nanjala and plays it exceptionally well. Sani Mu’azu is excellent as her chauvinistic father, delivering his dialogue with expressions that prove his acting skills. Rabi’u Rikadawa will win your heart as Nanjala’s foster father, who stands by her through thick and thin.

Asabe Madaki (Majuma), the character of Jarry, and Abba Zaki (Dititi) are first-rate as Nanjala’s siblings, but their mother, played by Sola Sobowale, does not live up to expectations. However, Enyinna Nwigwe is admirable as an accomplished author who later becomes Nanjala’s love interest. Segun Arinze, Ali Nuhu, and Abba el-Mustapha all shine in their brief roles. But it’s Hajara Haidar (Falmata) who will impress you with her adorable looks and fluent English, giving her small role a huge impact.

In conclusion, Nanjala has opened a new page in Nigerian cinema. It is a “Pan-Nigerian” film that will resonate across the country and beyond. I strongly recommend this insightful and inspiring film to every parent, young ladies, and, of course, anyone who enjoys seeing Africans speaking English on screen.

Habibu Maaruf

Kano, Nigeria abduhabibumaaruf11@gmail.com.

Northern Nollywood, Southern distorted mirrors: Nollywood and the rest of us

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

Recently, an extremely prestigious academic journal requested that I review a film made by a Nigerian. I was surprised, as that is Muhsin Ibrahim’s forte. Further, I really don’t watch Nigerian films, aka Nollywood, personally preferring African Francophone directors. Nevertheless, I agreed to do the review. 

However, the link they sent for the film was password-protected. I informed them, and they requested the filmmaker to send the password. Being a request from a highly prestigious journal, he sent the code, and I was able to get on the site and watch the film online. I was surprised at what I saw and decided to delve further into these issues. Before doing that, I wrote my review and sent it off. The film, however, set me thinking. 

Like a creeping malaise, Nollywood directors are rearing their cameras into the northern Nigerian cultural spaces. Again. The film I reviewed for the journal was “A Delivery Boy” (dir. Adekunle Adejuyigbe, 2018). It was in the Hausa language. None of the actors, however, was Hausa, although the lead actor seems to be a northerner (at least from his name since an online search failed to reveal any personal details about him). 

Nothing wrong with that. Some of the best films about a particular culture were made by those outside the culture. Being ‘outliers’, it often gave them an opportunity to provide a more or less balanced and objective ‘outsider’s perspective’ of the culture. Alfonso Cuarón, a Mexican, successfully directed “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” (2004), while Taiwanese director Ang Lee did the same with “ Brokeback Mountain” (2005), even earning him an Oscar. 

In 2006 Clint Eastwood, an American, directed “Letters From Iwo Jima.” The cast was almost entirely Japanese, and almost all of the dialogue was in Japanese. It was very well-received in Japan, and in fact, some critics in Japan wondered why a non-Japanese director was able to make one of the best war movies about World War II from the Japanese perspective. Abbas Kiarostami, an Iranian filmmaker, directed his film, “Certified Copy” (2020) in Italy, which contained French, Italian, and English dialogue starring French and British actors. 

British director Richard Attenborough successfully directed Ben Kingsley in the Indian biopic Gandhi (1982). The film was praised for providing a historically accurate portrayal of the life of Gandhi, the Indian independence movement and the deleterious results of British colonization of India. It took away eight Oscars. American director Steven Spielberg’s “Schindler’s List” (1993) on a German, Oskar Schindler, was equally a powerful portrayal of an auteur genius by a “non-native”. The film won seven Oscars. 

In each of these examples, the directors approached their subject matter with a clean, fresh and open mind that acknowledges the cultural sensitivities of the subject matter. My point is that a person, outside of a particular cultural context, can make sensitive films that portray the culture to his own culture as well as other cultures. That is not, however, how Nollywood plays when it focuses its cameras on northern Nigerian social culture. Specifically Muslims. 

I just can’t understand why they are so fixated on Muslims and the North. If the purpose of the ‘crossover’ films (as they are labelled) they make is to create an understanding of the North for their predominantly Southern audiences, they need not bother. Social media alone is awash with all the information one needs about Nigeria—the good, the bad and the ugly. You don’t need a big-budget film for that. Or actors trying and failing to convey ‘Aboki’ accents in stilted dialogues that lack grammatical context. 

Yet, they insist on producing films about Muslim northern Nigeria from a jaundiced, bigoted perspective, often couched with pseudo-intellectual veneer. To sweeten the bad taste of such distasteful films, they pick up one or two northern actors (who genuinely speak the Hausa language, even if not mainstream ethnic Hausa) and add them to the mix, believing that this will buy them salvation. For southern Nigerians, anyone above the River Niger is ‘Hausa’. 

They started in the early 2000s, and people just ignored them. The directors then included Oskar Baker (Ɗan Adamu Butulu, Abdulmalik), Yemi Laniyan (Makiyi, Uwar Gida), Tunji Agesin (Halin Kishiya), Matt Dadzie (Zuwaira), I. Nwankwo (Macijiya) and many others. These came on the heels of the massive success of “Sangaya” (dir. Aminu Muhammad Sabo, 1999) when this particular film opened up the northern Nigerian film market. 

Those Nollywood producers jumped into cash on the popularity of Hausa films and made their own for northern markets. For the most part, these early ‘crossover’ films that I refer to as ‘Northern Nollywood’ were fairly mild and evoked no reaction. They were still rejected, as the Hausa can be the most discriminatory people you can come across. If you are outside their cultural universe, you remain there. Forever. 

The few Kannywood actors eager to be seen on the ‘national stage’ allowed themselves to be used to deconstruct Islam and Muslims on the altar of filmmaking in subsequent Northern Nollywood films. Let’s not even talk about character misrepresentation, which Muhsin Ibrahim has written extensively about. In these scenarios, the usual tropes for northerners in Nollywood films is that of ‘Aboki’ (a term southern Nigerians believe is an insult to northerners, without knowing what it means), ‘maigad’ (security), generally a beggar. If they value an actor, they assign them an instantly forgettable role rather than a lead. Granted, this might be more astute and realistic marketing than ethnicity because it would be risky to give an unknown Hausa actor a significant role in a film aimed at southern Nigerians. 

A few of these types of portrayals in Nollywood included Hausa-speaking actors in films such as The Senator, The Stubborn Grasshopper, The World is Mine, Osama Bin La, Across the Border and The Police Officer. 

When Shari’a was relaunched from 1999 in many northern Nigerian States, it became an instant filmic focus for Nollywood. A film, “Holy Law: Shari’a” (dir. Ejike Asiegbu, 2001) drew such a barrage of criticism among Hausa Muslims due to its portrayal of Shari’a laws then being implemented in northern Nigeria that it caused credibility problems for the few Hausa actors that appeared in it. With neither understanding of Islam nor its context, the director ploughed on in his own distorted interpretation of the Shari’a as only a punitive justice system of chopping hands, floggings, and killings through foul-mouthed dialogue. As Nasiru Wada Khalil noted in his brilliant essay on the film (“Perception and Reaction: The Representation of the Shari’a in Nollywood and Kanywood Films”, SSRN, 2016) “the whole story of Holy Law is in itself flogged, amputated and killed right from the storyline.”

“Osama bin La” (dir. MacCollins Chidebe, 2001) was supposed to be a comedy. No one found it funny in Kano. Despite not featuring any northern actor, it was banned in Kano due to its portrayal of Osama bn Ladan, then considered a folk hero. The film was banned to avoid a reaction against Igbo merchants marketing the film. I was actually present in the congregation at a Friday sermon at Kundila Friday mosque in Kano when a ‘fatwa’ was issued on the film. Even a similar comedy, “Ibro Usama” (dir. Auwalu Dare, 2002), a chamama genre Hausa film, was banned in Kano, showing sensitivity to the subject matter. 

The reactions against crossover films seemed to have discouraged Nollywood producers from forging ahead. They returned in the 2010s. By then, northern Nigeria had entered a new phase of social disruption, and Nollywood took every opportunity to film its understanding of the issues—sometimes couched in simpering distorted narrative masquerading as social commentary—on society and culture it has absolutely no understanding of. 

In “Dry” (dir. Stephanie Linus, 2014), the director developed a sudden concern about ‘child marriage’ and its consequences. Naturally, the culprits of such marriage, as depicted in the film, are sixty-year-old men who marry girls young enough to be their granddaughters. The director’s qualification to talk about the issue (which was already being framed by child marriage controversy in the north) was that she has ‘visited the north’ a couple of times. With the film, if she could get at least “one girl free and open the minds of the people, and also instruct different bodies and individuals to take action, then the movie would have served its purpose.” The ‘north’ was living in darkness, and it required Stephanie Linus to shed light on ‘civilization’. 

 “A Delivery Boy” (dir. Adekunle Adejuyigbe, 2018) that I reviewed was about an ‘almajiri’ in an Islamic school who was kidnapped from the school, to begin with and repeatedly raped by his ‘Alamaramma’ (teacher). The almajiri somehow acquired sticks of dynamite to create a suicide vest and vowed to blow himself up—together with the teacher. The Alaramma in the film lives in an opulent mansion, far away from the ‘almajirai’. In this narrative universe, the ‘almajiri’ do not learn anything and are unwilling rape victims of their teaches who actually kidnapped them and forced them into the schools. 

“The Milkmaid” (dir. Desmond Ovbiagele, 2020) evokes the idealistic picture of a Fulani milkmaid and became a basis for a Nollywood film. Instead of focusing on the political economy of the Fulani milk trade, the film focused on the trope of terrorism. “The Black Book” (dir. Editi Effiong, 2023), touted as ‘Nigeria’s John Wick’ shoots a significant portion in ‘the north’ – with ‘Islamist’ hijab-wearing females touting assault rifles hidden underneath their hijab. “Jalil” (dir. Leslie Dapwatda, 2020) visits the recurrent theme of kidnapping for ransom. In the north, of course. 

Then came the latest, “Almajiri” (dir. Toka McBaror, 2022). Claimed to be a true-life story (although it is not clear whether it happened to specific people or based on what the director believed to be a common event), it featured muscle-bound badass types of thugs with guns and dreadlocks as Almajirai. The film reinforces the southern Nigerian trope of any beggar in the north being an Almajiri. Such ‘almajiris’ are kidnapped and sold into virtual slavery and horribly abused. The idea is to blame the parental irresponsibility of northerners. 

For southern Nigerians, especially the Nollywood crowd, an ‘Almajiri’ is a beggar, a product of a failed education system, a terrorist, a bandit, and an ‘aboki’. They use concocted figures bandied about by alphabet soup agencies to proclaim ‘over 10 million almajiri are out of school’ and, therefore, twigs of the terrorism inferno. How can someone who has been part of a system of education for over half a century be considered out of school? But for Nollywood, if it is not ABCD, then it is not education. 

“Northern Nollywood” films are the precise reasons why there will ALWAYS be different film cultures in Nigeria. Kannywood talks to its publics, happily churning out now TV shows that address issues it deems relevant—in its own way. Both the northern and southern parts of the country (covering the three major languages) were actively engaged. However, they were mutually non-legible to each other. This was essential because they operate on virtually opposing cultural mindsets – making the emergence of a truly “Nigerian cultural film” impossible. 

Quite a few writers seem to suggest that Kannywood is a ‘subset of Nollywood’, and indeed, many would prefer for the term Kannywood (created in 1999 by a Hausa writer) to be dispensed with and replaced with Nollywood (created in 2002 by a Japanese Canadian writer). It is to protect our cultural representation in films that I stand as a lone voice in advocating for a ‘Hausa Cinema’ to reflect the cultural universe of the Hausa.

Professor Abdalla Uba Adamu can be reached via auadamu@yahoo.com.