Why Is the Cameroonian Film Industry Moving Abroad?

Here I am again, misusing the word “industry.” UNESCO identifies cultural industries by their creation, production, and distribution of cultural goods.

Currently, Cameroon produces about 100 films per year, with the majority consisting of experimental, low-quality, and low-budget works that often end up in cupboards, or our most recent dumping ground, YouTube. There are other factors UNESCO considers, such as economic value and employment generation.

I know several actors who have only worked on one project in a year or even two. Perhaps if this were Avatar by James Cameron, with its certainty of breaking box office records, one would assume the actors received a fat cheque. But in this case, it is usually a Video on Demand production for the most accessible platform for Cameroonians: YouTube. Lastly, there is institutional and policy recognition. This aspect alone deserves an independent article, so I will focus here on the first two indicators as signals for why filmmakers are moving abroad.

During my studies in the UK, the most consistent place I visited was VUE Cinema at Stratford Mall. For the first time, I watched Mufasa: The Lion King in 3D, and it was exhilarating. I left the theatre with envy, not just from witnessing a good film, but from seeing the satisfaction on the faces of people filling multiple cinema halls. I saw the culture. It was strong. I paused to think about how difficult it is to get even 100 fans into a hall to screen a film in Cameroon. I said fans, not fellow filmmakers.

 In journalism, they often say that if you have never been locked up, then you are not a true journalist. I can liken this to Cameroon, where some filmmakers have visited the four walls of a cell more times than they have cinemas, usually while trying to resolve disputes arising from failed returns on investment for films they produced. The biggest trap was the promise of Netflix.

I remember when news broke about Netflix coming to Africa. Filmmakers who had worked for over a decade rushed to invest between 10 and 30 million francs, about £13,000 to £40,000. This is the cost of a super low-budget film in England, but in Cameroon, it is considered a high-budget production. Only four of those projects landed Netflix deals, with Nganu by Kang Quintus securing a global deal. The other three were restricted to the African region. By the time you read this, some titles may already have left Netflix. At that point, Francophone filmmakers also wanted a bite of the cookie, the world’s largest streaming platform. I will share my perspective on the intersections between Anglophone and Francophone filmmakers and the differences in their markets in a separate article.

Here, my focus is on English-speaking filmmakers. For the few who reached this level, it could be considered growth for the sector or growth for the individual filmmaker. Make no mistake, this was not luck. It was a strategy. Partnering with, or hiring, Nigerian actors with recognisable faces. This came with its demerits, as these films were classified as Nigerian on Netflix. This is why I argue that it benefited the filmmaker more than the sector. At this point, private investment came swooping in. Everyone wanted to make a “Netflix film,” as amateurs called it. At some point, I wanted to as well, and I am glad I did not. I probably would have ended up in a cell.

 When the Netflix promise failed due to low numbers, many filmmakers were left stranded. Let me explain. Netflix is a numbers business. Because of regional classification, they can see how many people in a region are watching a film. If the numbers are low, it becomes futile. They drop you and move on. I believe this was the breaking point for many filmmakers. At this stage, they began to rethink their choices. Some turned to YouTube. I was one of the first to test it. I worked on a medium-length film, MIRE by Achiri Victor, which reached 20,000 views in under 48 hours. At the time, this was a big deal. Many filmmakers followed, with some reaching over 500,000 views on channels like Stephanie Tum TV. Again, this relied on the same strategy used with Netflix: working with Nigerian actors.

In my reflections, I began to worry about our identity being drowned in Nollywood. There is also not much money on YouTube, as the payout per 1,000 views in Cameroon and Africa is far lower than in the Global North. However, something peculiar stood out. Those still making films have often been based abroad for many years, with some level of stability and alternative income streams, enough to revive a once-suppressed passion for filmmaking. Others have accessed grants abroad. Returning to the indicators of an industry, you will agree that we are not there yet. Economic value and employment alone raise deep questions about the sustainability of this sector.

I believe that with ready-made portfolios, filmmakers in this mindset are moving abroad to recover lost investments. This is to seek financial stability by working in various roles and pursuing higher-paying jobs. Not relenting on their dreams, there is a temptation to find a way to integrate into the film industries of the countries where they settle or just make enough to reinvest in a personal project in Cameroon. Succeeding as a filmmaker in another film industry can be extremely challenging. As we usually say 'Impossible n'est pas camerounais'. If there is one thing a Cameroonian filmmaker undoubtedly has, it is passion. What else would make a creative consistently pour water into a leaking sieve? if not for the exhilarating feeling of chasing dreams 

In my subsequent article, I will be dissecting why this generation of filmmakers may never win an OSCAR! 

 

By Evita Afungfege (Chief)