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At Work with Tunde Kelani

IMG_2752I have admired him from afar for a very long time, especially since he blossomed into our television screens towards the end of the last century as the director of Mainframe Films (Opomulero). However, his work and reputation extend way back to the history of television in Africa. As he told me recently on the movie set of a series of multilingual recordings of Public Service Announcements (PSAs) on the Ebola virus raging around the continent, he was there near the beginning, in Ibadan, when the then WNTS (Western Nigerian Television Service) was established. The station was founded in 1959, when he was still in primary school.

At that time, when the foresight of Western Nigeria’s first politicians brought television technology into the continent and sited it in Ibadan, a new industry of imaginative artists was created. And years after that innovation, the first set of broadcasters, technicians, scriptwriters, stage workers, costume and set designers, etc went on to become innovators of their own in various fields of endeavour. (My own father was one of those, joining the Western Nigerian Broadcasting Service (WNBS) in the late sixties as a reader and later, producer). Tunde Kelani became employed at the station as a trainee cameraman on September 20, 1970. According to him, that was when his career trajectory began. He later went to a number of film schools around the world in order to gain sufficient experience. In 1993, his first film as the director of Mainframe Ti Oluwa ni Ile, a trilogy, was released to critical acclaim.

Photos 8142014 90256 PM.bmpAt his Mainframe office in Oshodi, Lagos, the feel of a decent but relaxed artistic environment is prevalent. In a house that doubles as a studio with an editing room and other offices, TK holds court, providing needed input during movie shoots, and coordinating artistic directions where necessary. At 66, he shows no signs of slowing down. On this set, I’m an almost invisible adjunct, present to provide input about the multilingual scripts I worked on translating into the various Nigerian languages, while the actors come in and out to interpret and act their roles on set and against the blue screen. And while the recording goes on, and in-between takes, other light-hearted discussions take place. On set on these couple of days of shooting were Toyin Aimakhu-Johnson, Femi Sowoolu, Joke Silva, Kunle Afolayan, Yomi Fash-Lanso, Tonto Dikeh, Kabirat Kafidipe, among many others.

But being around this legend of Yoruba cultural expressions in film, animated conversations ensue, taking us from one fascinating subject to the other. It has been said, for instance, in western media that Yoruba (or Nigerian) movie industry grew “out of nothing”, or out of little. That reiteration brought out the strongest rebuttal from TK who pointed out, correctly, that the Yoruba culture carried with it an element of theatre that thrived way before television came, and continued through the TV medium in the 50s to the current day. After all, there was Herbert Ogunde, and Moses Adejumo (Baba Sala), and Adeyemi Afolayan (Ade Love) way before the current crop that made what is now called (not to everyone’s satisfaction) “Nollywood”.

IMG_2715Animated even more by the presence of my British-Jamaican friend, psychologist and filmmaker visiting from the University of London, Dr. Julian Henriques, conversations moved from the challenges of movie production on the continent to the inevitable transition from old recording equipment to today’s modern cameras. Julian who was visiting Nigeria for the second time had, earlier in the day, visited with me the Kalakuta Museum in Ikeja, sharing an afternoon of conversation and wonder in the court of the late Afrobeat founder. His interest, Dr. Henriques, in sound as well as cultural movements and productions collided perfectly with the Kelani encounter, as their short but substantive conversations showed, and a happily saturated guest went home with a signed poster of the host’s new production. Julian’s feature film Baby Mother (1998), co-written with Vivienne Howard has been called a “vibrant and delightful” work, buzzing “with vitality and colour.” Baby Mother refers to what Americans call “baby mama”: women saddled with the responsibility of raising children from their unwed partners. The film is more than that though, touching on a number of relevant themes in black, British, and Caribbean popular culture. Here’s a brilliant YouTube clip

IMG_2706One of the other gems dropped in the conversations is the news of Tunde Kelani’s new project: a theatrical adaptation of Amos Tutuola’s The Palmwine Drinkard into Yoruba as Lanke Omu. According to TK, it is one that carries, for him, an immense personal satisfaction for its transmission of the text’s original intent into a new cultural medium. But that is not the only project on his hands. He had also just recently completed work on a film adaptation of a novel Dazzling Mirage written by Olayinka Egbokhare, which has already been screened for selected audiences. From his reputation and the artistic scope of his earlier works (KoseegbeO Le KuTi Oluwa Ni IleSaworoide, Yellow Card, and Thunderbolt come to mind), these two new projects promise even more, cementing a career that is as dynamic as it is emblematic of the best of African artistic and cultural expression in a world dominated by other global influences.

Though meeting him this time for the first time at close proximity, conversations illustrated that the trajectory of my creative and professional life has passed through courses in TK’s neighbourhood. I remember, for instance, his presence at the launch of the African Language Technology Initiative (ALT-I) in Bodija, Ibadan, in 2004 where my friend, mentor, and occasional collaborator Dr. Tunde Adegbola, burst into Linguistics all the way from Engineering, in a public way, during the WALC 2004 conference. It turned out that the link between Dr. Adegbola and Baba Kelani went even further back to many years pre ALT-I days in Lagos. Another friend, teacher, and mentor, Dr. Larinde Akinleye (now deceased), was a prominent cast in many of TK’s earlier movies. And the author of TK’s recent work, Olayinka Egbokhare, is a personal friend, as one of my teachers of Communication while in the university. It was like a reunion with a friendly but famous uncle you never knew you had, in an environment of mutual respect and admiration.

Also, a fascinating encounter.

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[Watch the newly released Ebola PSAs here.]

 

Cocktail at Terra Kulture by Nollywood Workshops

WP_20131123_011WP_20131123_012WP_20131123_014WP_20131123_015Saturday night at Terra Kulture, at an event by Nollywood Workshops to introduce GIST – a resource for actors, movie producers, directors, and other movie practitioners. GIST, according to the Nigerian director Bond Emeruwa, is sponsored by a number of collaborators from in and out of Nigeria (and the Gates Foundation) and supporters in Hollywood and Bollywood who have deep and abiding interests in telling stories that carry factual and reliable health information. To achieve the overall aim of making Nollywood (and Hollywood/Bollywood) pay more attention to the veracity of the health claims made (even in passing) by characters in their movies, GIST is providing access to information resources that movie directors, producers, and actors can use before, during, and after the move-making process. It is free.

WP_20131123_010WP_20131123_008At the cocktail were the directors of GIST, including the aforementioned Bond Emeruwa (a TED fellow and a veteran of Nigerian movie industry) as Co-Director, Chris Dzialo, PhD (visiting from Los Angeles), Aimee Corrigan (from Boston), Eke Ume, and Temie Giwa (GHC Fellow and GIST Nigerian Program Manager). The actors present, about fifty of them, included Kunle Afolayan, Emeka Ossai, Tunde Kelani, Kate Henshaw-Nuttal, Kemi Lala Akindoju, Yomi Fash Lanso, among very many others.

More about Nollywood Workshops here and here.

Arugba

Set against the background of a corrupt society, the story of the votary virgin designated to “carry the calabash” for one last time before settling down into matrimony is enticing on its face. Add to that the intrigues of puberty and University life, the corrupt and often lecherous leaders (many of who have real life equivalents in Nigerian politics), historical figures in short cameos, and a multi-award winning director known for equally engaging films, and you have a winner, right? Yes, if you are a skillful playwright looking for a nice plot to use in writing the next bestselling play. No, if all you want is a screen flick that tries very hard to please everyone (UNICEF, Cultural experts, Movie buffs, Local language activists, suckers for love stories laced with music, and pretty much everyone else).

What I’m trying to say here, of course, is that I wasn’t much impressed with the movie except with the super acting by the seasoned actors (Lere Paimo, Kareem Adepoju, Bukky Wright, Peter Badejo, and the new Bukola Awoyemi), the song Afi fila perin , the major plot (which is the cleansing of a town as tied to the symbolic act of the virgin votary), and the picture quality. Everything else seemed distracting, especially the flashbacks. The sub-plots looked like poorly-handled attempts to situate everything in this quasi-imaginary world in which the events took place in the events of our real life. We see Obasanjo. We see Bola Ige. We see Abiola. We didn’t need to see them, but we did. Nothing else in the overall plot of the movie prepared or compensated us for the distraction. And even the love story which is the major subplot did not always convince. It surely didn’t live up to the standard of Ajani and Asake in O Le Ku handled by the same director.

The flashbacks were the main distraction. I did not see the point in keeping the details kidnapping attempt on Adetutu till the end. It should have been enlightening then, but it wasn’t, because we had already consoled ourselves – having seen her hale and hearty – that she had already survived in one piece; and the minor intrigue of the women who wanted her removed on the rumour that she had been raped did not really impress. What about the king’s inglorious offer to Adetutu earlier in the beginning? We didn’t know much about it until the end, for no justifiable reason. Other distractions included the sub-sub plot of the Islam and Christian adherents at the beginning and the end, Adetutu’s jealous rival (played by Kafat Kafidipe), the Oral Rehydration Therapy that eventually never saved a child from dying, the jealous housewives in the king’s palace, the spirits seen at the beginning and at the end coming out of the (supposed) Osun river to play with Adetutu (when we know for a fact that the story is not science fiction) among many others. I’m an ardent fan of Mainframe, but here, I see only minor resurrections of what we liked about Saworoide, Koseegbe, Campus Queen, and even O Le Ku. But that’s where the love ends. At the end of the movie, I did not stand, smile, ponder and send a text to my friends to go get a copy. I merely rewound it to listen to the song Afi Fila Perin many times again, then go to bed.

Now, this is what I suspect: there were too many consumer constituencies to cater for by this offering. And in the end, it ruined what could have been the best story since Death and the King’s Horseman (which is not even a movie yet, as it should be) a classic meeting of tradition with “civilization” and the fallouts thereof. So many possibilities… Maybe if Tunde Kelani had written the story himself, or at least passed it through the hands of Akin Ishola, Bamiji Ojo, Wole Soyinka, or Bayo Faleti…

There, my KTrotten Tomatoes! Two stars out of five. Okay, maybe three. Maybe.

Saworoide

This is the final part of the movie Saworoide which we saw in class today. It’s been long since I saw this movie, and this last part just reminded me of the genius of the award-winning director Tunde Kelani in weaving a very traditional story of culture and responsibility into current political situations in Nigeria at the time. When it came out, it was one of the first breaths of fresh air of political art in the newly democratized Nigeria. Even for its time, it was a bold political statement. No wonder it is still a favourite till today.

I particularly liked the epilogue, featuring the ending song, and the way the actor Chief Faleti sang it: Ọrọ lẹyẹ ngbọ o, ẹyẹ kò déde bà lórùlé o... Priceless ending!

The Magun Report

Picture this hypothetical scenario:

A woman, suspected by her husband to have been cheating on him, is infected with a hate charm meant to kill the first man who sleeps with her within a period of nine weeks (including her husband if he so becomes stupid as to make love to her within that period). But wait, that is not all. If within nine weeks no man does so, the woman dies too, so it ends up as a lose-lose situation for the woman in question, and a sadistic win for the man depending on what his motives are.

Now picture this further conflict in the story: the woman, by some unexplainable coincidences, discovers that she has this charm on her, and later that her husband was the one who had put it there, since – on being given the chance to help her get it off in the presence of spiritualists waiting to remedy the situation once and for all – he had run scared, couldn’t do it and then didn’t deny his heinous crime when eventually confronted. Time is running down and she has only seven days to live, what should the woman do? Divorce, it would seem, is already a granted option. Here were the others…

a. Sleep with a stranger, a charming medical doctor, who has volunteered himself as the guinea pig for two reasons: He doesn’t believe in the existence of such charm anyway, and he had an eye for the woman since a long time.

b. Wait it out, disbelieving in such crap as a hate charm, especially since she is not from that culture that believes in such a thing as magun as the charm is called. The risk is a 50-50 chance that she might die.

This is the subject of a class movie that we just saw to the end on Monday. The 2001 movie is titled THUNDERBOLT (Magun) and is an adaptation of a story by Yoruba writer Adebayo Faleti, and directed by multi award-winning director Tunde Kelani. Magun (literally meaning “don’t climb”) is an old and notorious myth in the Yoruba culture, and it has been credited for all the strange or spooky things that have happened to people engaged in illicit affairs. The scientific verification of the curse is impossible since no one has ever claimed responsibility for its activation, nor narrated experiences of its infection. The men concubines are supposed to die immediately afterwards, and the woman shamed. Thus so far, it exists purely at the level of myths, literature, movies and academic papers. The movie is instructive in the way it brings the western culture into a spectacular clash with the local traditional medicine, and superstition, and how the love triangle of death, intrigue and betrayal was resolved in the end.

We saw this movie last semester in class, and the students loved it. This semester, they did too, but there was at least one objection to the way adultery was portrayed as the solution to the death triangle. “I just don’t believe that it is right,” the student said, having walked out of the class at the last scene where a medical doctor who didn’t believe in “such crap” had volunteered himself as the guinea pig to test the veracity of the myth and thus get a chance to write an academic paper about its demystification. “It is a marriage for God’s sake,” she said, not really in these exact words “and marriage is a sacred institution. To allow such portrayal of adultery as a solution to something that is purely mythical is barbaric and ridiculous.” And for a moment, it seemed that the fiction on the screen had taken a life of its own out in the real world of the classroom. What she didn’t see in the last moments of the movie as she walked out in protest was how the guinea pig medical doctor who had put the myth to test had come face-to-face with immediate death thus adding veracity to the myth, at least for the benefit of the story. Much of the conflict in the movie however was about that clash of civilization and tradition, and the extent of human tolerance, love, respect and curiosity.

I had brought it along from Nigeria because it was one of the my favourite Nigerian Yoruba movies, because of its drama, and because of the way it explores a cultural myth and its interaction with a modernizing world. I recommend it for watching for everyone, and not just because one of my (now late) Professors was one of the main characters, but because it raises valid questions of what is to be done when one is suddenly confronted with the a life-threatening, time-bound discovery that the world is not all good and kind.

PS: Said student is the only married student in the class, which could make it easier – or not – to understand her objection. That said, I’m glad that the movie provoked such a discussion. Theatre/Fiction tends to do just that.