Recent rumours of Netflix’s exit from Nigeria have been quashed by the streaming giant’s spokesperson, who stated plainly: “We are not exiting Nigeria. We will continue to invest in Nigerian stories to delight our members.”
While this statement might settle the controversy for some, others see it as a boilerplate. Regardless, it opens a broader conversation about Netflix’s evolving global strategy and its impact on Africa’s largest—and most chaotic—film market.
Firstly, we must admit that the speculation wasn’t entirely unfounded. The viral speech from a usually coy Kunle Afolayan at the Zuma International Film Festival and recent trends prove this. The circulating video clip merely publicly confirmed what insiders knew long before Prime Video’s withdrawal earlier this year: Netflix has stopped commissioning and has slowed its acquisition of Nigerian titles, especially originals and post-theatrical licenses. This meant fewer Nollywood titles in the coming soon section for those who had missed it in cinemas or the large diasporan market. No teased projects at the Lights, Camera…Naija! event either. More revealing signs when Adedimeji Lateef-produced Lisabi, after an initial promotion as a global release by the filmmakers, only received an African release on the platform, with no explanation provided. The signs were telling.
However, this appears to be more indicative of a strategic reassessment than a market exit. After years of aggressive (it’s relative, I know) investment, it’s natural and perhaps necessary for any major platform to step back and evaluate its approach, especially in a complex market like Nigeria, where the market seems difficult to navigate. This includes unconfirmed accusations of funds misappropriation, shelved projects and blatant dysfunctional mode of operations. Moreover, with the imminent Canal+ takeover of MultiChoice, it also makes sense for Netflix to be more cautious with its spending and decisions in the region.
Nollywood’s successes may appear encouraging, but they mask deeper cracks in Nollywood’s shaky foundations. In 2024, as a recent example, titles like Oloture: The Journey and Hijack 93 broke into Netflix’s global charts, suggesting some international interest in Nigerian stories. But is it curiosity, hate-watching, or genuine engagement? One thing for sure is that these titles usually fall off drastically once they climb up. This signals curiosity that isn’t met with actual quality. It raises questions about how long these titles would have stayed on the charts—or the global conversations they might have sparked—if they were better crafted. Netflix’s appeal to filmmakers as a global platform is reinforced in Kunle Afolayan’s points as he gushed about the reach of Anikulapo in about 190 countries and the sizable languages it was dubbed and subtitled. How can we tap into that Netflix power with improved storytelling?
Whether this interest comes from curious foreign viewers or the Nigerian diaspora (boosted by the recent “Japa wave”), it proves the potential for Nigerian content to resonate globally, even if these successes haven’t yet achieved sustained momentum on the platform’s global rankings.
However, the industry’s overreliance on Netflix as a primary distribution channel reveals a fundamental issue. While some filmmakers may interpret the platform’s strategic shift as abandonment (since Netflix won’t pay for just any and everything), more forward-thinking industry players understand that Netflix should be just one piece of a diversified distribution strategy. Nigeria’s film industry can’t afford to rely solely on one distribution channel, especially given its unstable foundations.
Netflix can’t solve our problems. Few saw it. Fewer called it. The challenges are significant—piracy, low consumer spending, and inadequate infrastructure hinder market growth. These issues make Netflix’s shift to a measured, long-term approach logical. The platform’s current strategy suggests a more thoughtful approach to content investment rather than a retreat. The level of thoughtfulness can also be questioned, but that’s not why we are here.
Netflix reps have recently emphasized “local first” in speeches and statements, but in a place where “local” is still doing the figuring out of itself, they sure would, understandably, tread more carefully. Nigerian filmmakers should recognize, as Netflix does, that their real competition isn’t just other films or TV shows – it’s platforms like YouTube, TikTok, and video games that compete for viewers’ attention. The true battle isn’t against the latest Netflix adaptation of a Spanish series in South Africa; it’s for a share of audiences’ precious screen time across all entertainment platforms.
Nollywood’s path forward remains unclear. Filmmakers can’t keep running in circles—who will ask the tough questions, even when they are the cock of the walk? Who will listen to the other success stories from this year, that are potentially building up to a golden era of global filmmaking? One must also ask, why has there not been a similar follow-up to the African Folktales anthology series as a talent development path? As Netflix recalibrates its strategy, Nollywood must diversify its distribution channels and address its systemic challenges. The industry’s golden era will not be built on the back of a single platform but through collective efforts to strengthen its foundations.
“Ultimately, the responsibility for building a truly sustainable and independent African media industry lies with African creators, investors, and policymakers, not with foreign corporations whose priorities will always lie elsewhere,” notes Tambay of Akoroko in one of his recent newsletters.
I must say, Netflix has truly left Nigeria, if you are shortsightedly making films with only Netflix in mind.
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