In the film Headless, the opening film of AFRIFF 2024, you see the actress Uzoamaka Aniunoh playing a rather serious police officer getting berated by her superior, even as she imposes her will on others. In the remarkable Phoenix Fury, which premiered a couple nights ago, her character is the recipient of a series of unfortunate events.
On Thursday night, at an AFRIFF party, she was playing a totally different character: a real-life dancing queen. She was in company of Ifeoma N. Chukwuogo, director of Phoenix Fury, but this time, Aniunoh wasn’t quite under Chukwuogo’s direction; they were partners in dance. Hand over head, waists moving of their own idiom, they were not director and actor. They were women, bodies moving under the influence of a melody, of music.
A table from them, Jidekene Achufusi was doing his own moves. You could find Nollywood insiders like Belinda Agedah Yanga and Ijeoma Grace Agu and Kunle Remi and Chioma Ude and Kunle Afolayan in the area. The Hollywood actor Ntare Guma Mbaho Mwine and the US Consul General Will Stevens were also around.
Everywhere you turned, you’ll find a famous face.
A lot of them would leave before late. But their presence would have established a basic utility of the AFRIFF party: if you want a spot to see a slew of Nollywood celebs in relatively normal conditions, no other spot gives you a better opportunity than the AFRIFF party. AMVCA is the other spot where the industry gathers but over there they’re almost always covered in a sheen of glamour.
This fact of Lagos Nollywood inevitably leads to another detail of these parties: a selection of projects you have seen probably began life as a chat at one of these AFRIFF parties. An industry as small but as disjointed as Nollywood needs a gathering and AFRIFF does that well—and unlike the AMVCA, it gives the industry the chance to meet, greet, and eat together over several days.
There’s a catch of course: you have to get invited. And sometimes these invitations are hard to obtain. On Thursday night, the bouncers were brusquely telling all and sundry they couldn’t get into the party. I was with an actress who was upset at the bouncers. I was pretty upset myself.
Fortunately, one of the perks of existing in a space for a rather long time is a certain familiarity that can sometimes be mistaken for privilege or indistinguishable from it. And so it was that I found a member of the AFRIFF team that got us in. Although it is possible that we only got in because he recognised the actress I was with. In situations like the one we were in, it’s frequently a multitude of coincidences that need to work in your favour.
What all of this means is that the AFRIFF party is coveted because of its exclusivity. It’s hated for the same reason. Its value though is related to the interplay of both. As a semi-veteran of film festivals, I can say that these shenanigans are a staple of film festivals. Sundance has many parties, the value of which increases with the number of stars in attendance. In Cannes, even the screenings are exclusive. I can’t recall attending a party at the Berlin Film Festival but that city has a club so tricky to attend that a former head of the German embassy in Lagos once told me he brags to his kids that he had gotten in while they hadn’t.
So, the AFRIFF party works in pretty much the same way its equivalents elsewhere work. Maybe the one kink is that the less recognisable filmmaker might also struggle to get in. Perhaps filmmakers and actors should get a badge that gets them access everywhere, especially if they have a film showing at the festival? It’ll probably be a logistics nightmare but maybe it’s worth it.
Those who look up to the filmmakers who were yet to make heavy commercial incursions have to be able to think there is a way to find their heroes. And if they make a great project, it would give them the inroad into making the acquaintance of those who has inspired them or their work.
Unfortunately, the reality is that they might get bounced at such a venue on Thursday. I like to think that one of the perks of being a fine filmmaker is the chance to rub shoulders with your elders. AFRIFF should probably consider making that happen. Then again, they do say people shouldn’t meet their heroes, so maybe just maybe AFRIFF has it right.
On Thursday night, as Aniunoh danced and danced, I thought to get the scene on camera. In one of the photos, Aniunoh seemed to be vanishing, her movements too fast for the camera. Upon seeing it, she laughed.
“I want it,” she said before resuming her dance.
I’ll probably send it to her at the next AFRIFF party. But first, I’ll need to figure out how to get in.
