One of the first things Olive said when she began speaking was, “I tell African stories, with a focus on Nigerian narratives that centre around people of colour deeply committed to their self-determination.” This statement resonated deeply with me as she delved into her personal narrative, transitioning from a conventional African upbringing to pursuing a career in filmmaking. She shed light on the struggles of reconciling creativity with societal norms and expectations. Additionally, Olive shared insights into her own journey of self-discovery and professional growth, underlining the significance of aligning one’s work with their artistic vision and social consciousness.
Can you provide some background about yourself
My name is Oliver Nwosu. I am a filmmaker, writer, and director. I tell African stories, focusing on Nigerian narratives centred around people of colour who are passionately invested in their self-determination. I strongly believe in portraying the challenges they face and overcome. I transitioned to film in my late twenties after working in finance and advertising. It marked a significant turning point in my life, and I am grateful to pursue this medium that I love. I am on my own journey, for sure.
What is the creative framework that governs your thinking when approaching a project or set?
I mean, it was difficult because I grew up in Lagos, Nigeria, I think now things are changing, where the arts feel viable, and it’s a very exciting space. But when I was a kid, that wasn’t the case at all. I have very traditional African parents who wanted me to get a stable job. And being a good kid, I agreed to that notion. So I went to college to study engineering in the US. It was during my time there, luckily not by any real consciousness, that I attended a small liberal arts college. There, the emphasis was on being well-rounded, regardless of your major. You were required to take a certain number of courses in arts, social sciences, and sciences, along with your concentration.
So, to fulfil that requirement, I took my first film class. It blew my mind. I loved watching films and reading as a child, but I’d never considered creating in that way. We had to make short five-minute films called personal narratives, where experimentation was encouraged. It was the first time I felt fully able to express something genuine and truthful from my interior life. It was like an earthquake, realising that I could create something that exists and impacts people.
From that moment, I knew I loved it and wanted to keep doing it. But transitioning to a career in this space was quite a journey. As you say, it’s unpredictable and difficult to break into, not always financially viable. After college, I worked in finance while writing a screenplay on the side, but not with much dedication. In my early twenties, I looked around and felt like anyone I wanted to be was unknown. The corporate world didn’t align with my values, so I quit and entered advertising, which felt like a bridge—still corporate but more creative. Yet, it wasn’t enough. I became jaded, using my creative skills to sell products like coffee or toothpaste.
I was just like, I don’t, this isn’t right, or to do this. I didn’t want to do this. So eventually, I saved up enough money, and I quit my job, but also a lot of other stuff. But I quit my job. And I decided to go to film school when I was 25. And that really felt like a choice for myself too. I feel like I had been doing what my family wanted me to do for those years. And finally, I thought, I want to do something for myself. So I applied to an MFA at Columbia, and I got in, which is such a magical moment. You know, it’s like, oh, wow, I think it’s also validation, you know, like is, this is possible, someone seeds my passion and talent. So yeah, that I was in London at the time, I went to New York. And that was just a dream. That’s just a dream, it was like, three years to just really commit to my art form and to, you know, investigate and learn what I wanted and liked and was interested in and find inspiration. Yeah, I’m first I’ve been quite lucky in terms of moving out of school. You know, my work has been responded to. And so I fortunately have been able to start working on production companies that are willing to, or unable to pay me to develop work. So I am able to do this full time now. It remains precarious. But I would rather live this way than how I was living. You know, that’s very clear to me.
On set for Egúngún, Abuja, 2021
I love how to create feeling and how you manage to communicate the political in a well thought way?
I think about the films I make as how I describe it, where the political meets the personal because I see the world as inherently political. I feel like structures and systems that exist affect us whether or not we’re cognizant of them. At the same time, I think it’s important that we feel we have agency within those systems, so it’s kind of, I think, I’m always trying to find or ask questions within that space, you know, kind of what a character is feeling or coming up against or processing and then how history or economics or the socio-cultural context is affecting these feelings that we have. Because I think, for me, I feel many things and I’m always analysing them. So it’s from that space of analysis. And then broadening out is where I stop thinking about work with “Troublemaker.” “Troublemaker” was… it’s funny, it’s a bit different because the first image that came to me as a filmmaker was of an old man’s face, quite an old man’s face. And then I think it was my grandfather’s face.
I remember very clearly being kind of afraid of my grandpa when I was a kid. There’s something about this age that scared me, but also intrigued me. So I started from there, and I really wanted to explore that grandfather-grandchild relationship. And I’m Igbo, so my family was very much affected by the Biafran war. And I also wanted to think about that history. And I think “Troublemaker” was kind of like combining those two things. And yeah, it’s always this Venn diagram, right, of an event or historical context and so on, coming to influence something in the narrative, if you hear what I’m saying. And then… and then… yeah, like, feeling emotion, because I think what film does so well is create feelings. And I think the way you connect with people or affect people is by affecting their emotions, you know, like, information is one thing, but that emotional space is another. And with regards to the mise-en-scène, I think about the image and the sound and music or lack of, and colour, and how those have effects on individuals. I did a master’s in psychology before I did a master’s in my MFA film. So I think there’s also this real understanding of, or trying to understand just the very biological, visceral effect that images and colour and sound have on you and how you can use those to then craft a story. That’s my thought process.
What do you believe is our responsibility as filmmakers and artists? How can we contribute to these conversations while still sustaining ourselves economically?
I mean, it’s such a loaded, meaningful conversation, and it’s also very personal for me because I think wrestling with the decision to pursue film took me a long time. I grew up with clear expectations—my dad wanted me to be an engineer, and my mom is a doctor, professions with obvious contributions to nation-building. For the longest time, I thought I would work in development. Coming from a family and within the African Nigerian context, there’s this dream of pushing the country forward, but I didn’t quite align with that. It took me a long time to believe or convince myself that art was worthy. Realising that storytelling is crucial played a significant role in that realisation. The stories we tell affect people and inspire action. Fundamentally, how we interact with one another is shaped by these narratives. I feel strongly about cultural narratives and how negative ones impact our ability to connect and feel agency, especially in political contexts where messages often promote consumption or resignation. This affects our worldview.
So, for me, the work is intentional about creating positive narratives while also valuing aesthetics. Finding that sweet spot where I can create something beautiful that also serves a purpose in the social-political space is crucial. As a person of colour, capturing and portraying black people beautifully is particularly significant—it’s a political act in itself due to the lack of representation. The care put into doing that is separate from the themes I’m exploring but equally important. Both aspects are central to the work I’m doing, and I contemplate them extensively.
Still from Troublemaker, Ugbenu, 2019
What key practical things do you think have helped you get to where you are?
Good question. It’s a hard question. Because in the arts, at least in my experience, the most difficult thing about it is that there isn’t one way, right. Like, I wish, I wish it because for me, it was always like, how do I break in and there was never a clear path. So what has worked for me is, I think having a real clarity about what my work is and where it could be appreciated. And then go into those spaces. For a long time. I think I wasn’t clear about what my voice was. And so I was kind of scattered in how I was approaching everything.
So what does that actually mean? Like my choice to go to film school for me, was very important because I knew that I’m, I love theory, and I thrive in those spaces and like combining the theory and the practice, I think has served me very well. So film school served me very well, but I had friends who like them like this was a waste of time. And it was a waste of time for them because they just wanted to go make stuff. So this might be why I wouldn’t say I like to go to film school. But I would say go to film school if you really feel an alignment between what it can give you and what you have. I would say finding great collaborators, you know my producer has been so useful and has been a champion of my work. And I think that’s because he understands different producers I’ve had, the best ones have understood what I’m trying to do. And so have been able to connect me to the right spaces. So finding collaborators, I think, who really understand what you are trying to do.
And back to my first point, but that requires you having a real clarity about what that is, first, um, I would say, yeah, just like committing for commitment, even though it’s terrifying, you know, like, really believing that you can do this, and it deserves to exist, because everything else for me has come from that drive you convincing other people that you should get the money, and you should get the resources and film. And if, if they don’t believe you, then they wouldn’t give it to you. So I think just like your own personal practice your own community of people who will champion you and shoot.
Please give a quotable or any line you live
Definitely, hope is a discipline. I’ve been pondering this a lot, and the older I get, the more I grasp its significance. When I was in my early 20s, I thought, “Yeah, of course.” But now in my early 30s, I’m like, “Okay, let’s do that,” because it’s easy to give in when things get tough. But I think the tougher task is to believe and find a way through, and to genuinely hold that space for other people as well. So I really strive to live by that, and I think as a creative, that’s part of your role—to envision what is possible, even when things seem impossible.
