The Making of a Nollywood Magician

Hey, Larry! Oga mi! Why you come tanda for door? Come in and sit down now!

Yes, I will sit down. But don’t tell me the script is not ready o!

Well, in actual fact . . .

In actual fact, e don ‘nearly finish’ abi?

Exactly. I have just two more scenes to write . . . to rewrite, actually, because I had finished the whole thing but I read it over last night and discovered that one sequence is not just reading right.

Forget ‘not reading right’ abeg. Just give me the bloody script! My Executive Producer wants me on location this weekend. In fact, just yesterday he paid the director and the lead actors their full fees, and all of them agreed to go on location this weekend.

But how could your E.P., your director and the actors agree to shoot a film when they had not even seen the script?

What does that matter? They know the story. The E.P. knows the story, of course, and I told it to the director and the actors when we met yesterday. Your script is only going to tell the actors what to say within the story, not so? Except that . . . Oh., God! Please, Bibi. Please don’t tell me that you have, or you are planning to change the storyline . . .

Well, in actual fact . . .

You changed the story? Bibi? You changed the storyline after all I told you?

Yes, yes, you told me your Executive Producer is financing the film because it is his story. But I think I told you, too, that there is a difference between a real-life story and a dramatic story for film.

And I replied you . . . Bibi, I replied you that it does not matter if the E.P. wants his film to be about how his wife finally got the right housegirl after so many trials. It is his money he wants to use to make the film!

But the audience, Larry. My point about the audience remains . . . The Nigerian audience surely deserves much more than such a simple, simplistic story . . .

Ha, I’m in trouble! . . . I should have listened to my P.M. I should have listened to him, instead of insisting on giving this job to you.

What is that supposed to mean?

It means that my P.M. advised me to go to the right people. He wanted me to give the job to Chico Ejiro or Charles Novia. . . . But I was thinking of saving time and money. Ah, which kind wahala be dis now?

Wait first: let me get this straight . . . You said you came to me because you were trying to save money. In other words, I am much cheaper than the Ejiros and Novias?

And what is wrong with that? I am a producer. My job is to minimize the cost of production. But it you listened well, I did not say cheaper cost was the only reason I came to you . . .

Okay. I am listening.

Time, Bibi. I came to you because I believed you would knock out the script for me on time. The likes of Chico and Charles Novia are always busy. They have . . .

Ah, you are really comforting me today! So, I am not only a cheap writer compared to the others, but also, unlike them, I am just an idle, jobless . . .

Will you stop twisting my words around your ego! . . . Bibi, the simple truth is that I trusted you with a job and you messed up! . . . And in messing up, you have also disrupted my own schedule!

Listen, let me put it this way . . . I wrote the script according to your E.P.’s story and I finished it on time. But when I read it through last night, it all sounded so silly to me. I am not sure I want to put my name as the writer of a silly, mindless film.

I see. You do not want your name on a silly film. Is that what you said?

Exactly.

And do you know why you say that?

I think I do. But since you, Larry, had your first degree in Psychology, maybe you are in a better position to tell me my own thought process . . . And while you are at it, you will also tell me why I am alive and breathing in the first place, no?

I will ignore your sarcasm and tell you straight . . . Listen, you said that about not wanting your name on silly films because you are an egoistic, incompetent fool!

Ah, that is a relief! I thought you were going to say I am a closet schizophrenic or something more serious!

Oh, you think this is all a joke, not so?

Oh, no! I know it is very serious. Pay no attention to me, sir. Please, go on, Mr. Larry Sigmund Freud.

Very well. First, you answer this: were you not the one who begged me to break you into the film industry through your writing skill?

Yes, I was, and I am not ashamed of that. I would do the same for you if you were trying to gain entry into my own professional constituency

Leave all that turenchi for now. Tell me: how do you intend to break into an industry if you refuse to recognize and flow with the most elementary facts of that industry?

In other words . . .

In other words: if you think my E.P.’s story is silly, you only need to watch virtually all the films released at Idumota since January 1, 2005, then come back and tell me what a silly film story is!

Then, why should I add my own name on the list of the writers of those silly films?

Because nobody gives 5 kobo about your name!

Another comforting statement. Thank you.

That is not a personal insult, Bibi. All I am saying is: our audience does not care a hoot who wrote what silly film. Go into the streets and find out how many people remember the writers of the last three Nigerian films they have seen? Few people even remember the names of the directors. What the audience wants to see, all they remember are actors and more actors! . . . Hey, did you not see Osuofia in London?

Yes, I did.

Along with a few Yoruba films, Osuofia in London should be given a special award as the Silliest Nollywood Film, do you agree?

I don’t have to agree. It is your own opinion.

Damn right it is my own opinion! But my point is: how many people remember who wrote or directed Osuofia?

So, Larry, to cut it short; you want me to forget my own aesthetic or ‘egoistic’ considerations and hand over your silly film?

Yes! Either that or you hand over the 70 thousand naira advance fee I gave you . . . If I add your balance of 50 thousand, which I have here, I can still find someone to knock out the script before 10 pm tonight.

Come on, Larry! You are not serious, are you?

About what? Retrieving the advance fee from you or getting a fresh writer to do the job today?

Both, man! First, you cannot retrieve the advance because I have eaten all of it.

My script, then? The screenplay of the story, exactly as I told you to write it, silly or not. This is business, Bibi, and you know very well I do not joke with business.

I know that. But I also know that you are only bluffing about getting someone else! You cannot possibly get anyone to write a new script within the three days left, not to talk of by 10 pm tonight.

And that is where you are wrong! . . . Listen to this. In 1999 – or was it year 2001 – Chico Ejiro created a record. He wrote a film – I mean, a full length film from story idea to finished screenplay – he got it out overnight in a hotel room! . . . And there have been many more Chico Ejiros since then, I assure you. Why do you think we proudly refer to our Nollywood as ‘The Magic Industry’?

I see . . .Would you happen to have an empty diskette in your bag?

Diskette? What for?

Drop my 50 thousand balance on that table and I will download your script into a diskette for you.

Ha, ha! Now you are talking!