The 15th edition of the Zuma Film Festival has come and gone, and it is only right to begin with commendation. In a country where many cultural initiatives never make it past a few editions, sustaining a national film festival for 15 years is no small feat. The organizing team and the management and staff of the Nigerian Film Corporation (NFC) deserve credit. The red carpets, awards, lights, networking and media buzz have all helped celebrate Nigerian cinema, and those who made it happen have earned their applause. 

Yet once the cameras are packed away and the social media posts slow down, a more fundamental question emerges: what is the strategic value of Zuma Film Festival to the Nigerian film ecosystem today? Beyond the glamour, is this the best use of the NFC’s limited resources at this stage of Nollywood’s development?

The 1979 decree that established the NFC empowers it to organize a film festival, so Zuma fits the letter of that mandate. But a 45‑year‑old law cannot be treated as if the world has not changed. In 1979, Nollywood as we know it did not exist; there were no streaming platforms, global content markets or digital distribution. Today, Nigeria’s film industry is hailed as one of the largest in the world and a pillar of our soft power, yet the institutions meant to support it still reflect an earlier era.

The real question is no longer whether the NFC can run a festival, but whether it should still be acting primarily as a festival organizer rather than as a modern industry enabler. When a public institution created to support the private sector ends up competing with it, something is clearly misaligned. 

Across Nigeria, a vibrant ecosystem of privately driven and community-rooted festivals has emerged—city festivals, youth platforms, genre events, indigenous-language festivals. Most operate on limited funding, struggling for sponsorship, venues and technical support. In this context, it is fair to ask: if even part of the resources committed annually to Zuma—logistics, hospitality, venues, publicity, security, staff time—were redirected toward these independent festivals, how different might our landscape look? We could have a stronger network of festivals nationwide, each building audiences, nurturing talent and contributing to local economies.

Instead, a publicly funded institution pours energy into running its own festival while the sector it is meant to empower remains under-supported. A government agency that should act as referee and facilitator appears on the field as a player. This is not just cosmetic; it is structural.

The deeper problem is that Nollywood has outgrown the framework that birthed it. We still boast of global rankings, yet genuine growth—in sustainable financing, competitiveness, technical capacity and intellectual property exploitation—has slowed. The institutional architecture was never designed for an industry of this scale or for a digital economy. The NFC still operates largely within a late‑1970s logic: heavy bureaucracy, limited digital integration and an inward-facing posture. Practitioners have stretched the industry far beyond what this framework can support; resilience alone cannot repair outdated structures.

This is why the Zuma conversation cannot be separated from the broader demand: Nigeria needs to evolve from a Nigerian Film Corporation into a Nigerian Film Commission. Around the world, film commissions serve as industry-focused hubs, dealing with policy, incentives, co-productions, locations, data, funding and coordination. They are enablers, not festival proprietors. On the continent, countries such as South Africa, Kenya and Rwanda are already using commission-style structures to attract investment and production. Nigeria cannot rely on Nollywood’s reputation while clinging to institutions that lag behind global best practice.

Even before any legal change, nothing stops the NFC from behaving more like a film commission in practice: digitising its processes, consulting more with industry, becoming data-driven, and shifting its energy from competing in the festival space to coordinating and supporting it.

The needs of Nigerian filmmakers today are clear. We need structured access to funding, especially through co-productions. Producers require help navigating treaties, understanding foreign funding, entering markets and finding partners. The NFC could make more impact by creating a co-production and market-access unit than by focusing its bandwidth on one annual event. We also need support in digital distribution. Many Nigerian films, particularly in indigenous languages, face limited visibility and poor monetization on major platforms. The NFC could advocate for fairer policies with existing platforms and help incubate home-grown digital platforms that do not disadvantage Nigerian filmmakers.

And we need the NFC to collaborate with festivals rather than compete with them. Instead of positioning Zuma as the singular government-owned festival, the Corporation could establish a festival support scheme offering small grants, technical help and coordinated promotion across a national festival calendar. Zuma itself could evolve into a platform that brings these festivals together, rather than standing alone.

With the 15th Zuma Film Festival behind us, the NFC is at a crossroads. It can continue to invest in ceremony—red carpets, speeches and photo-ops—while the structural needs of the industry remain unresolved. Or it can embrace a more demanding but more meaningful role: advocate, facilitator, regulator and partner.

Filmmakers are not asking for fine statements; we are asking for a shift from ceremony to structure, from competition to collaboration, from analogue habits to digital strategy. We need support for funding and co-productions, for fairer digital distribution, and for festivals across the country, not just one. Above all, we need the NFC to lead the transition to a true Film Commission fit for a 21st‑century industry.

Other African countries are moving deliberately, building systems to attract the opportunities Nigeria should be leading. If we remain locked in a 1979 model, we risk being overtaken not for lack of talent, but because our institutions refused to evolve. Much ado has indeed been made about Zuma Film Festival, and deservedly so. But the real test is what happens after the applause fades. The time to rethink—and to act—is now.

By Osezua Stephen-Imobhio, Founder/Director, African Indigenous Language Film Festival (AILIFF)