Why Nollywood’s Most Powerful Actor-Producers Rarely Work With Top Directors — And What It Costs the Industry

 

In today’s Nollywood, actor-producers sit right at the centre of power. This isn’t new. The industry’s structure was shaped during the home-video and DVD era, particularly within the Yoruba sector, where actors were almost forced to become producers just to get films made and get paid. Fast forward to today, and figures like Funke Akindele, Toyin Abraham, and Femi Adebayo are no longer just performers. They are producers, marketers, cultural influencers, and very often, the directors of their own films.

So the question keeps coming up: why do Nollywood’s most powerful actor-producers rarely collaborate with the industry’s strongest directors, but instead choose to direct themselves?

Funke Akindele, Femi Adebayo and Toyin Abraham are no longer just performers but producers and cultural influencers, increasingly directing their own films.

Part of the answer is control. Actor-producers are brands, and directing their own projects protects formulas that already work. There’s also commercial certainty. Fast turnaround and familiar storytelling still outperform slower, director-led processes in a system that rewards speed and predictability.

Additionally, these actor-producers are excellent cooks. They know their audience. They know what works, what sells, and what keeps people coming back. A lot of that confidence comes from years on set — watching directors work, absorbing the process, learning by experience rather than formal training. And that experience matters. But cinema history isn’t written by cooks alone. It’s shaped by master chefs, people who didn’t just pick things up along the way, but studied the craft, understood structure, and learned how to design stories with intention. Directors like Kunle Afolayan, Kemi Adetiba, Biodun Stephen, and Adebayo Tijani operate from that space. And it’s a distinction worth making, especially now that “director” has become the most contested credit in the room.

Then there’s the more uncomfortable truth: credit matters. Directors now carry star power too, and in Nollywood, owning the “Directed by” credit often means owning the creative glory. That prestige has become so desirable that a media mogul once casually posted that she had forgotten she even studied directing in film school. A reflection that resulted in a directorial debut for a short feature. For some actor-producers, sharing that kind of glory simply isn’t an attractive option.

And yet, when strong directors are given room to lead, the results speak for themselves. Kunle Afolayan’s films travel well beyond local audiences. Kemi Adetiba’s journey from The Wedding Party to King of Boys turned her name into a selling point, with To Kill A Monkey clearly riding on trust in her as a director. Biodun Stephen’s Sista and Breaded Life show how quiet, character-driven stories can still resonate deeply. Directors like Kayode Kasum, Captain Degzy, BB Sasore, and Niyi Akinmolayan, to mention a few, continue to prove that strong direction doesn’t alienate audiences; it builds loyalty.

Nollywood’s actor-producers are winning the present. But cinema history favours endurance. Some are excellent cooks, but lasting cinema is made by master chefs. Nollywood’s next global leap may depend not on who controls the kitchen, but on who is willing to share it.