Femi Odugbemi
I recently had the privilege of presenting a masterclass to members of the Directors Guild of Nigeria (DGN) during the Guild’s National Awards Week. The subject was one I believe has become increasingly urgent for Nigerian cinema: What is the next level for Nollywood? For more than three decades, we have achieved something remarkable. We built an industry. We learned to produce quickly, economically, and under immense pressure. We created stars, filled cinemas, fed television schedules, and increasingly supplied streaming platforms. We found ways to tell stories that resonated with audiences, often against formidable odds. These are significant achievements.
The original Nollywood model was built on efficiency: modest budgets, rapid production, and fast distribution. It emerged from necessity, but necessity became innovation. We created an industry where, arguably, none previously existed. But industries must evolve. Today, Nollywood has bigger budgets, better cameras, more sophisticated infrastructure, premium locations, celebrity talent, drones, visual effects, 4K workflows, Dolby sound, and every other tool of contemporary filmmaking. Yet one critical question remains: Are our films becoming more artistically distinctive simply because they are becoming more expensive?
Unfortunately, the answer is no.
A N50 million film can still feel ordinary, while a N10 million film can possess extraordinary visual and emotional power. Budgets do not make films memorable. Creative decisions do.
That is the challenge of Nollywood’s next revolution.
From Access to Expression
The first Nollywood revolution was about access: access to cameras, stories, audiences, distribution, and an industry that had once seemed inaccessible. We mastered volume, speed, efficiency, and market reach.
The next revolution must be about something deeper: Vision. Aesthetics. Craft. Authorship.
A director’s job is no longer simply to get a film made. The director must shape what the film means, how it feels, and what it looks like.
That requires a fundamental shift—from seeing the director as a coordinator of production to understanding the director as the author of a cinematic experience.
Every major creative decision should begin with a question: Why this story? Why now? Why me? Why this crew? Why this frame? Why this colour? Why this location? Why this actor? Why this sound? Why this cut? Why this silence?
The answer cannot always be, “Because that’s how we’ve always done it.”
Nor can it simply be, “Because that’s what the producer, investor, or distributor wants.”
Filmmaking is collaborative and commercial. Directors must work within budgets and negotiate competing interests. But within those realities, there must still be a distinctive creative point of view.
That is authorship.
What Does It Mean For A Film To Travel?
The title of my masterclass was “The Next Level: Making Films That Travel.”
Travel has two meanings.
The first is literal: a film moves beyond its original market into festivals, cinemas, television networks, streaming platforms, airlines, universities, cultural institutions, and diaspora communities.
The second is more important: the idea travels. A character becomes unforgettable. A scene lingers. A Nigerian experience enters a global conversation. A filmmaker in Lagos tells a story that resonates in Johannesburg, London, Toronto, Nairobi, New York, or São Paulo.
This is why film is more than entertainment. It is soft power. Our films tell the world who we are, how we see ourselves, and how we want to be seen.
So what makes a film travel?
I believe it requires three things: A local truth — something culturally specific and rooted in place. A human truth — something emotionally universal. A cinematic language — a storytelling approach that transcends borders.
A story about a Nigerian father and son may be deeply Nigerian. But love, ambition, disappointment, grief, reconciliation, and shame are universal. The more honestly we tell our local stories, the more likely they are to find global audiences.
Devt is The Missing Revolution
One area where we must improve dramatically is development. Too often, development is treated as the period between receiving a script and beginning production.
In reality, development is where the film is discovered. It should include research, rewriting, table reads, character exploration, visual references, location studies, production design concepts, casting explorations, the director’s treatment, lookbooks, sound concepts, and even editing approaches.
A film should be designed before it is shot.
This does not make filmmaking rigid. In fact, preparation creates freedom. The better we understand the world of the story, the more room we have for meaningful creative discoveries on set.
Aesthetics is Not Decoration
Aesthetics is often mistaken for beauty. It is actually storytelling. Space tells us where we are. Light tells us how a world feels. Composition directs attention. Movement shapes emotion. Colour builds atmosphere.
When these choices are intentional, a film develops a visual language.
For instance, Nigeria possesses a rich sonic identity: Lagos traffic, owambe celebrations, generators, market sounds, highlife music, mosque calls, church services, danfo conductors, rainfall on zinc roofs, distant conversations, and sudden silence. These are not background noises. They are part of our cinematic identity. We should record them deliberately, design them carefully, and use them emotionally. We must also embrace silence. A look can function as dialogue. A silent room can provide exposition. An off-screen sound can be more powerful than showing an event directly.
One of our most persistent habits is the “coverage mentality”: Wide shot. Medium shot. Close-up. Reverse shot. Insert. Repeat.
That is coverage. It is not necessarily cinema.
Directors must ask: Whose perspective are we seeing? What should the audience feel before they understand? Why this angle? Why this movement? What story beat does this shot serve?
A camera should have a personality.
A handheld image can create intimacy or instability. A static frame can suggest observation or isolation. A long lens may create distance; a wide lens may create immersion. A slow push-in can reveal psychology.
The principle is simple: Do not move the camera because you can. Move it because the story requires it.
A director’s aesthetic is not only visual; it is behavioural. We need to rethink our definition of strong performances. Not every emotion requires shouting. Not every pain requires tears. Not every conflict requires dramatic gestures or lengthy speeches. Subtlety is not the absence of emotion. It is controlled emotion.
The camera often reveals what a character chooses not to say. That is where performance and cinematic language intersect. The director’s responsibility is to create the conditions for those moments to emerge.
Every serious director should be able to present a visual bible before production: What are the references? What is the colour palette? How will the film be framed? How will the camera move? What lenses are appropriate? What is the lighting strategy? What language will guide production design, costume, sound, performance, and editing?
If you cannot show what your film feels like before you shoot it, you may not yet know what your film feels like.
Nigeria is Our Greatest Visual Asset
Nigeria itself is one of our greatest cinematic resources. Its villages, rivers, beaches, forests, mountains, festivals, durbars, craft communities, historic sites, traditional architecture, and energetic cities offer extraordinary visual possibilities. Yet too many films feel as though they were shot nowhere in particular.
A location should do more than provide a backdrop. It should reveal character, history, culture, and relationships. Production design allows us to place meaning within the frame, enriching the story beyond dialogue.
We need to travel across Nigeria, rediscover its landscapes, and learn to see familiar places with fresh eyes. Few countries offer such diverse cinematic possibilities.
Post-Production is Where The Film Becomes A Film
Editing should involve more than asking whether the story is understandable.
We must also ask: Does the scene breathe? What should be withheld? When should we leave? When should we stay longer? Pacing and rhythm are not technical concerns alone. They are storytelling tools. Editors do more than assemble footage. They help discover the film itself. In many ways, the film continues to be written in the edit.
Colour should always be intentional.
Perhaps childhood is warm while adulthood is cooler. Perhaps memory is desaturated. Perhaps danger is green, and desire is red. Or perhaps the film rejects conventional colour symbolism altogether. The point is not which choice is made but rather that a choice is made. Intentionality matters
If we want Nigerian films to travel, we must rethink subtitles. Subtitling is not an administrative task. It carries rhythm, humour, meaning, context, and culture. Poor subtitles can undermine great performances. Excellent subtitles invite audiences into our world.
In many ways, subtitles are our passport to global audiences. They should be treated as part of production quality, not an afterthought.
We must make films for the second watch. The first viewing asks: What happens?
The second asks: How did they do that?
The third asks: What does it mean?
Great films reward repeated viewing.
We need to create films that audiences discover rather than merely consume. Discovery endures. Consumption is fleeting.
Films achieve longevity when they contain layers—visual, emotional, thematic, sonic, and narrative. That is the cinema that builds legacy.
The Director Needs A Creative Tribe
None of this means the director should become a one-person army. Quite the opposite. Every director needs a creative tribe: researchers, writers, script editors, production designers, location scouts, sound designers, composers, editors, colourists, VFX supervisors, acting coaches, festival strategists, and distributors. The director’s role is increasingly to lead a creative ecosystem.
The best directors are not those who can do every job themselves, but those who can assemble talented collaborators and communicate a vision clearly enough for everyone to contribute their best work.
Festival Strategy Begins Before Production
Another common mistake is waiting until a film is complete before thinking about festivals.
Festival strategy should begin during development. What kind of film are we making? Who is the audience? Which festivals programme this type of work? Does premiere status matter? Which territories are important? Do we need a sales agent? The same applies to distribution.
A film designed to travel must be conceived with its journey in mind. This is not about making films to satisfy festivals. It is about understanding the ecosystem in which cinema operates.
A NEW DEFINITION OF SUCCESS
For years, our primary measure of success has been simple: How much money did the film make? That question remains important. Film is both art and business.
But we should also ask: Did the film travel? Did it expand our cinematic language? Did it say something meaningful? Did it inspire future filmmakers? Did it represent Nigeria honestly? Did it discover new talent? Did it achieve artistic recognition?
These are not alternatives to commercial success. They are complementary measures of cultural and artistic impact.
If Nollywood is to become one of the world’s great cinemas, it needs both.
The Next Nollywood Revolution
The next level for Nollywood is not simply more money, bigger sets, more celebrity actors, or more expensive technology. The next level is intentionality.
It is the courage to develop stories properly. The discipline to create a visual language. The confidence to trust our sonic identity. The sophistication to embrace silence. The patience to allow performances to breathe. The understanding that editing is storytelling. The imagination to see Nigeria anew. The wisdom to build creative tribes. And the foresight to think about distribution from the beginning.
Above all, it is the willingness of directors to move from being efficient filmmakers to becoming authors. Nollywood has already proven that Nigerians can build an industry, cultivate audiences, and create economic value through storytelling.
Now we must prove something more: That our cinema can develop a distinctive artistic voice, one that travels across borders without losing the cultural truth from which it emerges.
The world does not need Nigerian filmmakers to imitate films from elsewhere. It needs films that could only have come from us, yet speak to something deeply human in everyone.
That is the next level.
*Femi Odugbemi is an award-winning filmmaker, film scholar and storyteller. He writes from Lagos.