Before 1990, Nigeria had no film industry.  Now it has the third largest in the world (behind the US and India) with 500-1000 films shooting each year, generating over $250 million profit. Welcome to Nollywood, Jamie Meltzer’s quirky documentary about the exploding Nigerian film industry, is almost as fast-paced and at least as much fun.
 

There is no government aid for, or regulation of, filmmaking in Nigeria, so it’s sort of the wild west of the industry right now.  Films generally have budgets of $20,000 or less, are shot on video, and are released as quickly as possible.  There will often be multiple films about the same subject matter shooting simultaneously and conditions are tough: power outages and street flooding are common and with time and money in short supply, every obstacle is multiplied. The films are released direct to video and the Nigerian appetite seems insatiable.  We see an electronics market with rows upon rows of recent releases, all at incredibly cheap prices, and it’s an impressive sight. 
 

Meltzer spent six weeks in Lagos, Nigeria’s busy capital, with three of the biggest directors.  Ridiculously charismatic Chico Ejiro, “Mr. Prolific,” dominates the first half of Welcome to Nollywood.  He can shoot a movie in two days and release it within a week, but don’t expect him to remember it later.  He’s representative of much of Nollywood: down and dirty filmmaking where much of it is junk but it keeps the people entertained.  While we only see tiny bits of actual films, the footage of the movies being shot is amazing.  The urgency and energy is palpable.  I love the scenes at stunt school where we see people learn how to fake fight and pretend they’re in a gun fight and especially the street scenes with movies being shot amid chaos.  We get a sense of how much and how quickly the industry is growing and how cutthroat the competition is.
 

On the other end of the spectrum from Ejiro is Izu Ojukwu, who has bigger ideas and plans and wants to make more substantial films.  Meltzer follows Ojukwu as he struggles to produce Laviva, a huge (for Nigeria) production with hundreds of extras, choreographed fights and stunts, the works.  Unfortunately, Ojukwu runs out of money and at one point can’t even feed the cast and crew, putting the future of Laviva in jeopardy.  You’re left wondering what the future of Nollywood will be.  Will it remain merely a glut of pulp films or will directors like Ojukwu be able to help elevate it with bigger and better films?  Will the effects of Nigerian cinema be seen past its borders and what will it ultimately do to and for Nigerian culture?
 

Welcome to Nollywood is short.  At just under an hour, it barely scratches the surface of the insanity that is Nigerian filmmaking, and while it left me thoroughly entertained, it also left me with more questions than answers.  However, I had never even heard of Nollywood before seeing this documentary, and now I’m absolutely fascinated, so Meltzer definitely did his job well.  He paints an impressively vivid picture of the craziness surrounding the unregulated filmmaking. This is a must-see for anyone interested in film studies, entrepreneurship, Africa, or just a terrific and inspiring story.