‘Nollywood Hustlers’ and the celebrity elite

What is not yet accounted for in these scholars’ accounts is the increasing connection ‘Nollywood’ has to other world cinema systems, in which celebrity culture, though not as affluent,  behaves very much like the star systems of Hollywood and Bollywood. The English language film industry has begun to ‘professionalize’, as its critics have often called […]

What is not yet accounted for in these scholars’ accounts is the increasing connection ‘Nollywood’ has to other world cinema systems, in which celebrity culture, though not as affluent,  behaves very much like the star systems of Hollywood and Bollywood. The English language film industry has begun to ‘professionalize’, as its critics have often called on it to do, into higher and higher budget productions, recently focusing on the cinema release system. Yet with such technical advances, a filmmaking elite often seem to be making films that look more to the lifestyles of those who can afford to pay N1,000-1,500 per ticket at a cosmopolitan  multiplex cinema, rather than to the lives and dreams of the masses who watch videos at home or in viewing parlours.  Most of the recent Emem Isong films that I’ve seen, for example, seem to be psychological dramas about a been-to class living in a wealthy Victoria Island. One exception to this is the Emem Isong and Uche Jombo 2009 Royal Arts Academy comedy Nollywood Hustlers, directed by Moses Inwang, and apparently inspired by the Hollywood comedy Bowfinger. When I recently saw the film, I was both delighted by the performances of the comedians, who play street hustlers who want to make it in Nollywood, and fascinated by how the film identified ‘Nollywood’ as a social elite plagued by their unsophisticated fans.

Nollywood Hustlers, which should be appreciated by a sophisticated second generation of Nollywood fans in its mockery of Nollywood clichés, opens with a sequence in which Monalisa Chinda and comedian Charles Inojie run in slow motion towards each other to the accompaniment of the cheesy organ music so prevalent in Nollywood films. They lean in towards each other for a kiss, Monalisa’s lips growing bigger and bigger as she bends towards the camera, and then there is a cut to Inojie lying on bed, the sequence having been a dream. We quickly learn that Inojie is playing a layabout named Elvis, whose fantasy of having the life portrayed in a Nollywood romance is interrupted by his irate landlady insisting that he pay his overdue rent.  Although Elvis is unemployed, his dream and a later sighting of Ramsey Nouah on the street gives him the idea for a get-rich quick scheme. He will make a Nollywood film. Recruiting his friend Lucky, played by the hilarious Ime Bishop Umoh, they embark on a quest to make a film starring Monalisa Chinda and Ramsey Nouah. Although they are able to convince a wealthy Igbo businessman, Prince (Ejike Asiegbu), who never watches Nollywood films but does like the idea producing a film where he will have access to the beautiful Monalisa, to invest in their project, they quickly discover that making a film is not nearly as easy or as cheap as they thought.

This becomes the major ‘lesson’ of the comedy, educating audiences that when people make generalized critiques of the industry, they are often looking at the efforts of hustlers rather than of the professionals. The girls who are willing to ‘girlfriend their way to the top’ are amateurs, not professionals. The filmmakers who shoot without lights or script, the film implies, are not the true filmmakers. Near the end of the film, the film director Lancelot Imasuen, playing himself, appears in the office of Prince to drive these lessons home, saying, these ‘so-called film producers […] don’t know jack about making a film. […] I don’t know why you guys always think filmmaking is for all Tom, Dick, and Harry. Now can you just walk into a theatre to start operating somebody without getting the required training as a surgeon? But when it comes to filmmaking, everybody is “oh it is very easy”.’ He instructs Prince that if he wants invest in a film, he should look for the people ‘who have made names in the business’ and who belong to professional associations.

One of the most striking things about the film for me is the way it fictionalizes real-life Nollywood stars. Ramsey Nouah and Monalisa Chinda, who play themselves, are particularly good natured in allowing themselves to be portrayed in not always very flattering ways—Monalisa hamming it up as a snobby prima donna and Ramsey allowing himself to be portrayed as a naïve victim of bad-acting scammers.  Other clever moments include the investor Prince saying he liked the films of Emem Isong (one of the actual producers of the film in which he is a fictional character) and a celebrity party scene where Emem Isong joins major stars like Genevieve Nnaji, Ini Edo, Omoni Oboli, Bracket, etc on the red carpet to be interviewed by television personality Denrele.

Here Nollywood leaders presents themselves as a social elite, starkly separated from their yokel-like fans. Wanna-be filmmakers and actresses in their gaudy make-up and over-the-top behaviour are contrasted with the true celebrities, who live sophisticated lives, going to the gym, reading scripts, and running NGOs to help street children.  However, although the film distances Nollywood from its humble beginnings and portrays it as a long established celebrity culture, the character Scholar, the social climbing village girl turned pepper soup waitress turned prospective actress, subtly cracks this façade.

Producer Uche Jombo, who plays Scholar, shows off her brilliant comedic ability. Scholar is a brash illiterate who thinks ‘cat-walking’ is going down on all fours and mewing like a cat, but her natural aggressiveness allows her to embody the role she later plays as an actress.  She turns out to be the truly successful Nollywood hustler, able to take on an outward polish, which is quickly undermined when she opens her mouth.

While the film reinforces a certain identification of Nollywood with a polished elite, it also ironically points to the holes in these credentials. As sophisticated as the films may become, they still owe their existence to their fans on the street.