Piracy has long been a formidable adversary to Nollywood, undermining the industry’s growth and the livelihoods of its creatives.
Imagine this: A filmmaker spends sleepless nights crafting a story, assembling a talented cast, battling unpredictable weather on set, and pouring everything —money, sweat, and sanity into a film.
Finally, after months of hard work, the movie is ready. It premieres with glitz and glamour, critics applaud, and the audience is hooked.
Just when it seems like all the effort will pay off, the uninvited guest arrives: piracy.
Like a thief in the night (except it doesn’t even bother to be sneaky), piracy swoops in and does what it does best: steal.
One day, the film is a cinema exclusive; the next, it’s all over Telegram, on shady websites, or sitting comfortably on a street vendor’s table in Alaba, sold for the price of a gala and Coke.
The many faces of the silent killer
Piracy wears many disguises. Once upon a time, it was bootleg CDs sold from the trunks of cars or hawked in traffic. Then, the game evolved.
Today, movies are ripped straight from streaming platforms, compressed into blurry files, and shared across Telegram groups faster than breaking news.
Social media influencers even recommend pirated links like they’re giving out skincare tips. “Have you seen Breath of Life? Don’t worry, I’ll send you the link.” Just like that, another filmmaker’s revenue goes up in smoke.
Voices from the frontlines
Prominent figures within the industry have not remained silent. Veteran actor Jide Kosoko has been a vocal critic of piracy’s damaging effects, emphasising how it undermines the hard work of filmmakers and actors alike.
Similarly, actress and producer Omoni Oboli has highlighted the financial strains piracy imposes, making it challenging to recoup production costs and invest in new ventures.
Funke Akindele, renowned for her role in Everybody Loves Jenifa, has also expressed concerns over how piracy diminishes the value of creative content, urging fans to support the industry by accessing films through legitimate channels.
Toyin Abraham, known for her Alakada series, has echoed these sentiments, pointing out that piracy not only affects revenue but also the morale of those who strive to entertain and inspire through film.
The cost of “free” movies
Piracy has deceived many into thinking it’s a harmless convenience; why pay ₦5,000 for a cinema ticket when you can watch the same movie for free on a sketchy website?
But here’s the problem: when a movie flops financially, it doesn’t just affect the producer. It ripples through Nollywood like an unchecked power outage.
Actors don’t get residuals. Cinematographers who depend on big-budget productions for their livelihood find themselves stuck shooting low-budget music videos.
Writers are told there’s no budget for fresh scripts, so they recycle the same tired storylines. Soon, fewer investors are willing to fund ambitious projects, and Nollywood settles for mediocrity.
A future in peril
Right now, Nollywood is in a golden era, pushing boundaries with international collaborations, better storytelling, and cinematic masterpieces that can hold their own against Hollywood and Bollywood, for instance, Postcards, Namste Wahala and Dust to Dreams.
But piracy is the termite chewing at the foundation. If it isn’t controlled, the industry might shrink back into the days of subpar productions, when a single film had 10 parts and ended with a To God Be The Glory caption.
It’s not just about catching the pirates; it’s about changing mindsets. Watching pirated content isn’t “outsmarting the system.” It’s robbing filmmakers of the means to keep creating.
READ ALSO: Mo Abudu’s Cinematic Legacy: 10 must-see movies from EbonyLife Films
