I hate to do this, but you know what?
We, the older generation, can’t stand it when lies are celebrated, and the truth is silenced.
Yes, Netflix—along with other international, profit-driven streaming platforms—came to Nigeria to test the market. But alas, after a short time, they packed up and took the next available flight back home!
Was it Nigeria’s struggling economy? Not at all. Many others are still making massive profits here.
Was it the sharp practices of our greedy, opportunistic movie producers?
Once again, I say, “No way!” This was never—and will never be—the cause of their failure.
The truth must be said: they built on a flawed foundation.
The problem lies in the corrupted and poor selection process of movies.
Without a shadow of a doubt, I believe that Netflix and similar platforms based their acquisitions more on how famous and connected the producers were, rather than the creativity and quality of the films themselves.
It almost became a cult-like system. An oligarchy. While those with mediocre understanding of stories and scripts were given jobs, the truly gifted filmmakers languished in towns and villages simply because they lacked the right connections.
As a result, many of the films featured on Netflix were far from the best Nigeria could offer.
Many of us recall that the movies produced by the likes of Tunde Kelani and Zeb Ejiro a decade ago were far more captivating than those currently streaming on Netflix and other popular platforms.
Most of these films, selected through backdoor dealings and the “man-know-man” approach, wouldn’t even make a million Naira at the box office.
What happens is that when these international representatives arrive, the rich producers hijack them—driving them straight to pepper soup joints and lavish welcome parties, filling them up with tombo liquor (courtesy – Zebrudaya) and burukutu. In return, just two producers land contracts meant for twenty.
These producers often lack any real directing or producing skills, yet they claim credit for the work of talented directors and producers who did all the work.
I sincerely hope that by now, Netflix has realized the mistake they made and is taking steps to correct it.
So, what’s my candid suggestion or recommendation?
If Netflix—or any international platform—wants to acquire the best of Nigerian films, they must adopt a democratic and transparent selection process.
Open the challenge to all Nigerian producers—male, female, rich, poor, the loud and the humble. Let them submit synopses of their work, coupled with —perhaps one-hour productions—and sift through them to find the best, the ones Nigerians would truly be proud of, and offer sponsorship.
Let me remind them that a good movie that scores 90% on storyline and 50% on technicalities will be far more embraced by the Nigerian audience than a movie with a 90% technical score but only 50% on storyline.
**Chief Wale Adenuga MFR (the old man who refuses to speak with his tongue in his cheek) is veteran filmmaker
