Inspired by David Ehrlich proclaiming The Naked Gun as the most important movie of the summer for Americans—arguing for the return of pure comedy—I’m proclaiming Freedom Way as the Nollywood film of this period of our Nigerian lives. (Definitely not summer, as we don’t have that.) Its theatrical success could mean further steps to liberty for some key issues plaguing our present lives.
(Click to Follow the What Kept Me Up channel on WhatsApp)
Our current precarious socio-political climate intersects with a time in Nollywood where cinemas desperately need a quality film to thrive purely on word of mouth. These two key issues—heightened political activities and distribution woes—are unfolding simultaneously. On one hand, cinemas are swayed towards certain star-led, actor-producer projects and there’s pressure on filmmakers to replicate existing formulas amidst the challenges of a favourable theatrical run.
Meanwhile, in the political sphere, events have built up to the film’s 2025 release. From the fatal 2020 EndSARS protests under the now late President Muhammadu Buhari, to the 2022 Lagos motorcycle ban, persistent police brutality, corruption, economic struggles, and the recent coalition news intensifying the political race ahead of the next general elections, Freedom Way arrives at a pivotal moment.
Originally inspired by a short film script for the “Treat Now, Ask Questions Later” campaign, Freedom Way echoes our amnesiac government institutions, where a policy gets announced, forgotten, then re-announced like it’s brand new. Just like SARS getting disbanded and reformed five different times, only for nothing to really change. So, is anyone really listening? Maybe Freedom Way can serve as a reminder.
Each Nigerian, yes, even the kids (though I’m not sure of the censors’ rating yet), has something to reflect on with the story. It resonates across demography. For tech bros, it touches on the startup hustle and how the system stifles innovation. For families, it speaks to mothers and fathers stepping out daily to survive. For medical professionals and teachers: it highlights a system that undercuts your best efforts. For the police, good egg or bad, there’s a mirror held up for you. Expats and foreigners living in Nigeria will recognise the nuances of their own experiences reflected in subtle but intentional ways. And for joggers, fitfam heads who simply pick race from their houses for their daily run, even you are in here. For young people with japa plans, there’s a heartbreaking, hilarious scene that feels far too real.
Importantly, Freedom Way isn’t preachy. It lays the cards on the table and lets you decide. As the film ends, you wonder: What happens to these characters? How do they go on from here? That lingering feeling, like the story doesn’t end with the credits, is one of the marks of a truly good film. Then, we ask ourselves where does it all go for us as viewers, because we are living some of those lives at the moment.
Even the title Freedom Way, inspired by a popular road in Lagos, feels timely on all fronts. This is the kind of film we need right now. I know it’s naïve to think a single film can save Nigeria or fix the dysfunction in Nollywood, but sometimes a reminder is enough. Sometimes we need to reflect. Sometimes we need to escape. Sometimes we just need to feel. And films like Freedom Way help us do all that.
Think Saworoide for the overall state of governance. Think Eyimofe for the japa wave. Each one spoke to its time. So does this.
We’ve seen recent direct-to-streaming attempts, like Jolly Roger and Collision Course, try to explore similar themes but fall into the traps of being mawkish or insensitive, with poor direction and banal dialogue. As if the way to meet police brutality is to fire for fire or painting officers as misunderstood victims. Freedom Way avoids all that.
It hits its thematic core within a rarely seen 90-minute runtime. Nollywood seems to have given up on the art of tight, meaningful narratives. But here, under the social justice genre, we find something rare, a film that isn’t overtly attempting to be a foreign replica and reminds the industry that the materials for powerful films are right around us. We just need to mine them properly.
Interestingly, Adebowale ‘Mr. Macaroni’ Adedayo, well known for his real-life activism, also stars in The Legend of the Vagabond Queen of Lagos, another timely film inspired by its immediate society that kicked off its festival run at the same festival and time as Freedom Way. How much of a coincidence. But both films deserve to be seen on the big screen. And since Freedom Way hits cinemas first, let’s queue up.
To all Nigerian cinephiles, this is your moment to let your actions meet your talk. This film could easily have gone straight to streaming, but it’s in the cinema—and it meets the big-screen standard. From its world premiere at TIFF to stops at AFRIFF and Red Sea, the film has spoken for itself, and even surprising us all to win Best Movie and Best Writing at AMVCA (hardly does AMVCA wake up to such). Let’s not make the same mistake we made with other films like Eyimofe, Juju Stories, Mami Wata and The Weekend that had a festival run only to come home to poor box office performance. Some others like Over The Bridge and All The Colours of The World are Between Black and White struggle to even get released at all.
Many people view films that have been to festivals as inaccessible or “not Nigerian enough.” But Freedom Way is an accessible Nigerian film for all audiences —and well made. From the original music to the cinematography (which actually does something beyond just being clear pictures), to the level of the performances across the board. While it may not be perfect, it’s urgent, accessible, and necessary.
And to non-Nollywood cinephiles who still stereotype the industry, this is your cue. Stop watching only the bad films. This is a film that needs you to come out to see it. Film can be a tool for collective remembering, but cannot act by itself. It won’t go further unless we, the all-important audience, act our part. And this is where the footfall is needed to help Freedom Way fulfill its cycle at this political moment in the country and juncture of Nollywood’s distribution woes.
Our cinema needs this kind of film to do well. It’s an accessible drama with intersecting lives, sharp commentary, and a heart. If these kind of films do not do well, there is very little for us to hope for regarding well-made films being well-received by cinemagoers. At just 1 hour 30 minutes, it doesn’t ask for too much of your time.
Written and produced by Blessing Uzzi, the synopsis reads, “a start-up gets boycotted by unfavorable government laws, causing a ripple effect in the lives of nine individuals, setting them on a collision course.”
What could success for Freedom Way mean? It could convince distributors and exhibitors to take more chances. Directed by debutant Lekan Afolabi for Bluhouse studios (who have had a promising run with their short films) in their first theatrical outing, if such a well-made film can perform impressively at this crucial point in our industry, there are more filmmakers who can be inspired by its success.
I wish I had a spell to make everyone watch it. This is the kind of film we’ve been crying out for. It’s in cinemas from July 18. And it deserves your money and your time. Whatever Freedom Way leaves you with, it is important you remember.
Become a patron: To support our in-depth and critical coverage—become a Patron today!
Join the conversation: Share your thoughts in the comments section or on our social media accounts.
Track Upcoming Films: Keep track of upcoming films and TV shows on your Google calendar.
