What started as a simple suggestion quickly spiralled into a full-blown industry reckoning on Obasanjo’s internet today.
A veteran spoke. And Nollywood listened.
Kanayo O. Kanayo—a man whose presence has defined generations of storytelling—put forward a proposal to the Actors Guild of Nigeria (AGN): lifetime royalties for actors.
“This will help a lot of actors and actresses to earn from their talent for life…”
It was more than a proposal. It was a plea—rooted in a familiar, uncomfortable truth. Too many actors who once lived in the spotlight now live in its shadow, navigating financial uncertainty long after the applause fades.
In Hollywood, residuals ensure that a performance lives on as an income stream. In Bollywood, evolving copyright laws are beginning to tilt power back toward creators.
But as the conversation crossed from empathy into economics, Nollywood’s producers—the architects of the films themselves—offered a sobering counterpoint.
The Sarcasm, Then the Substance
Filmmaker Jade Osiberu responded first with irony, then with clarity.
Her now-viral remark imagined a world where actors and crew also contribute financially when a film fails:
“Maybe for actors, you can contribute by how many scenes you featured in…”
It was sarcasm—but it exposed a fundamental imbalance.
Because in Nollywood today, risk is not shared equally.
Osiberu would later ground the conversation:
“Filmmaking is one of the most capital-intensive art forms… In an industry still building infrastructure, it carries its own risk.”
This is the part the audience rarely sees—the uncertainty behind the glamour.
The Numbers That Refuse to Lie
To understand the resistance to royalties, you have to follow the money—or more accurately, the lack of it.
A Nollywood producer does not operate within the safety net of a studio system. There is no Disney. No Warner Bros. No institutional cushion.
There is only the project—and the person willing to risk everything to make it happen.
One producer described it simply:
“Producers live a lonely life here.”
That loneliness is financial, operational, and emotional.
A film budget can double overnight—as seen during Nigeria’s inflation surge in 2024–2025. Yet contracts already signed must be honoured. Cast and crew must be paid. Post-production must be completed. Marketing must happen.
And then comes distribution.
Even when a film succeeds in cinemas, the producer walks away with just 30–35% of the gross after exhibitors and distributors take their cuts.
By that point, everyone else has been paid—and moved on.
“Put Body”: The Case for Skin in the Game
Actress Bolaji Ogunmola distilled the counterargument into a single, blunt directive:
“If you want royalties, back end. Put your money in the film… Put body joor.”
This is where the conversation shifts from entitlement to partnership.
Because royalties, in their truest form, are not just rewards—they are returns on risk.
Even globally, this model holds. When actors like Ben Affleck and Matt Damon negotiate backend bonuses, they often do so by sacrificing large upfront fees.
Closer to home, Nollywood has quietly experimented with this model—top-billed actors taking reduced pay in exchange for a share of profits. But these deals are exceptions, not standards.
Hollywood, Bollywood… and the Nigerian Reality
The temptation to compare Nollywood with Hollywood is understandable—but ultimately misleading.
Hollywood’s residual system is not accidental. It is the product of decades of union negotiations, strikes, and a deeply structured value chain.
Even then, the system is not perfect. Writers and original creators—especially in comic book adaptations—still argue they are underpaid relative to the billions their ideas generate.
Bollywood, on the other hand, thrives on scale—massive domestic audiences, music rights, and layered distribution channels.
Nollywood is still building.
- Limited cinema screens
- Ongoing piracy challenges
- Opaque revenue reporting
- Heavy dependence on streaming buyouts
And that last point is critical.
Streaming: Certainty Over Upside
As Osiberu pointed out:
“YouTube pays by performance… Netflix pays upfront and takes on 100% of the risk.”
In Nigeria, many producers would choose certainty over speculation.
An upfront streaming deal guarantees survival. A royalty-based model, without transparent reporting or strong enforcement, offers hope—but not security.
However with two streaming giants ‘gone’ what really is in it for the producers?
The Real Question: Is Nollywood Ready?
So, is what is obtainable in the U.S. obtainable here?
Not yet.
Not without:
- Stronger distribution systems
- Anti-piracy enforcement
- Transparent revenue tracking
- Industry-wide agreements
Until then, royalties risk becoming an ideal disconnected from operational reality.
A Value Chain in Transition
What this moment represents is not conflict—but evolution.
Actors are asking the right questions about longevity. Producers are defending the realities of sustainability.
Both are correct.
But for Nollywood to move forward, the conversation must shift from “Who deserves what?” to “How do we build a system where everyone can earn—fairly and sustainably?”
Because the future of Nollywood will not be built on one side winning.
It will be built—slowly, intentionally—on shared risk, shared knowledge, and eventually, shared reward.
From Acting to Ownership
If there is one quiet truth emerging from this debate, it is this:
The era of simply showing up to act may be giving way to something more demanding—and more rewarding.
An era where actors are not just performers, but stakeholders.
Where producers are not just financiers, but ecosystem builders.
And where Nollywood, still finding its footing, begins the long journey from hustle to structure.
This article was developed using AI-assisted drafting, guided and edited by the author.
