A 15-second drum roll and the title of the film, "Deceptive Heart," comes crashing onto the screen in a groovy 1970s font.
Less
than 10 minutes into the Nollywood movie, the heart of plot is
revealed: A woman has two boyfriends and doesn't know what to do.
The
story moves as quickly as the film appears to have been shot. Some
scenes are shaky, with cameras clearly in need of a tripod, and musical
montages are often filled with pans of the same building.
Most Nollywood movies are made in less than 10 days and cost about $25,000.
Fueled
by low budgets and whirlwind production schedules, Nigeria's film
industry has grown by some estimates over the past 20-plus years into
the most prolific on Earth, pushing out more movies a year than
Hollywood in California or Bollywood in Mumbai, India.
Hollywood
tends to portray Africa as an exotic land of deserts and giraffes,
populated by huddling masses, according to Samuel Olatunje, a Nollywood
publicist known in the business as "Big Sam".
Nigerian movies are
popular because they portray African people more accurately, Big Sam
explains outside his single-room Lagos office.
They explore African issues rarely touched on in Hollywood – magic, tribal loyalties, the struggle to modernize.
"Stories that you can relate to," he says.
Ventures
Africa business magazine says Nollywood knocks out 2,000 titles a year
and is the third-largest earner in the movie world, after Bollywood and
Hollywood.
The $250-million industry employs more than a million people.
Artists
say Nigeria's bad infrastructure and chaotic legal system prevent them
from making films that are as impressive in their quality as they are in
quantity.
"You'll find that we're having to make do," legendary Nollywood actor Olu Jacobs explains at an exclusive country club in Lagos.
Trained
at Britain's Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, Jacobs says Nigerian
artists often have the same artistic capacity as their Western
counterparts, but not the same financial capacity.
"We're not happy because the finished product doesn't have the finish that it should have," he says.
Later
that day, Jacob's driver inches his car through grinding traffic in
Lagos, the African megalopolis as chaotic and bustling as any Nollywood
production scene.
A young businessman in an SUV nearly cuts him
off. The SUV driver's eyes grow wide when he recognizes Jacobs, and he
smiles like a child meeting Santa Claus. He lets the actor's car pass in
front.
Nollywood was born, so the story goes, when Kenneth Nnebue, a video storeowner, had too many blank tapes in the early 1990s.
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READ MORE: http://news.naij.com/63625.html
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