The AMVCAs Don’t Just Reward Nollywood, They Define It

Bucci Franklin at the 12th AMVCA

There is something we urgently need to understand about film awards, especially awards as culturally significant as the Africa Magic Viewers’ Choice Awards (AMVCA). Awards are not just glamorous ceremonies. They are not merely red carpets, fashion statements, celebrity moments, or viral acceptance speeches designed for social media engagement.

Awards define taste. They define standards. More importantly, they define what an industry publicly recognizes as excellence. And because the AMVCA has evolved into arguably the most visible and influential film award platform on the African continent, every major win now carries symbolic weight far beyond a single night of celebration. The winners become representatives of what Nollywood considers: great acting, great writing, great directing, great technical filmmaking, and ultimately, great artistic achievement.

That is why certain decisions deserve conversations deeper than fan wars, stan culture, or reactionary outrage online. Before anything else, let me say this clearly: I appreciate the AMVCAs.

I have said this repeatedly over the years. The AMVCAs are necessary for the culture. Their contribution to the visibility of African cinema cannot be dismissed. Whether people agree with every winner or not, the platform has undeniably elevated conversations around African film in ways that did not exist before its emergence.

And if we are being honest, 2025 was not exactly a dominant year for Nollywood theatrically or artistically. There were good films. Some very solid projects. But there were very few undeniable masterpieces that completely towered above the field. So the underwhelming nature of certain nominations was not entirely shocking.

Still, there are categories and structural choices that deserve serious examination. Particularly four areas:

• Best Lead Actor

• Best Lead Actress

• Best Score/Music

• Trailblazer.

Not because predictions failed. Awards culture is unpredictable by nature. Some predictions land correctly, others do not. That is normal. But these categories feel different because they expose larger conversations about how Nollywood currently defines excellence.

The Series vs Film Problem

One of the biggest structural issues I genuinely believe the AMVCAs need to revisit is the decision to place films and television series within the same major acting and creative categories. Fundamentally, I disagree with it. A film and a television series are not built through the same creative process. They are not even operating under the same storytelling mechanics.

A film usually has two hours, sometimes less, to: establish characters, create emotional investment, build narrative tension, execute arcs, and leave a lasting emotional impact.

A series, however, may have: six episodes, eight episodes, sometimes ten full hours of storytelling. That is an entirely different artistic environment.

When an actor has eight hours to gradually build emotional progression compared to another actor forced to compress an entire psychological journey into two hours, the playing field is already uneven before judging even begins. And this is why major global award institutions separate these formats entirely.

The Golden Globe Awards separate film and television. The Primetime Emmy Awards focus on television. The Academy Awards focus on cinema. Because storytelling language changes depending on the format. Acting rhythms change. Writing rhythms change. Even directing language changes.

When both mediums are collapsed into one category, evaluation standards become blurry. The question becomes: are voters rewarding the better performance, or simply the performance given more time to breathe and evolve?

Nollywood, institutionally, has evolved beyond that stage. And the AMVCAs should evolve with it.

The Jury Conversation Nobody Likes Having

Now this next conversation may make people uncomfortable, but it is a reality that quietly exists in every film industry in the world. Awards are never fully objective. Not the Oscars Not the BAFTAs. Not Cannes. Not the AMVCAs.

Because juries are human beings. And human beings naturally have: preferences, relationships, friendships, biases, loyalties, and emotional attachments. That reality does not automatically invalidate awards. It simply means subjectivity will always be within artistic evaluation.

However, the size of a voting body matters significantly. And while I may be wrong, I do not believe the AMVCA operates with an extremely large jury voting system. When voting pools become smaller, relationships and familiarity inevitably become more influential, whether consciously or subconsciously.

At that point, the conversation sometimes shifts from: “Who delivered the best performance?” to: “Whose work emotionally resonated most within the jury circle?” And those are not always the same thing. This is why awards discourse will always remain subjective. But even within subjectivity, there should still be technical standards anchoring decision-making. Because emotion alone cannot be the only metric for excellence in cinema.

Best Lead Actress: Emotion vs Technical Precision

Let me start by saying this clearly: Linda Ejiofor is a very good actor. In fact, I personally predicted her to win Supporting Actress because I believed her supporting work in The Herd demonstrated stronger technical grounding. Her performance in The Serpent’s Gift was good. Emotionally committed. Convincing in some moments. She navigated multiple emotional registers effectively.

But when I compare that performance technically against some of the other nominees in the category, I struggle to place it at the very top. Because acting is not simply emotion. Acting is precision. It is emotional architecture. It is control.

And for me, Bimbo Akintola delivered the most technically layered lead performance in the category through To Kill A Monkey. What made that performance remarkable was restraint.

Many actors can perform pain loudly. Very few actors can internalize emotional conflict while still allowing the audience access to deep psychological tension. That is difficult acting. That is maturity.

And when you compare that with performances like Ifeoma Fafunwa in The Lost Days, or Scarlett’s emotional progression in Behind The Scenes, the category becomes less about “who cried harder” and more about whose performance demonstrated the greatest technical complexity. For me, that answer was Bimbo Akintola.

Best Lead Actor: Authenticity Matters

The Best Lead Actor category becomes even more fascinating because Uzor Arukwe is undeniably one of the strongest actors currently working in Nollywood. This is not a talent issue. Great actors can still give performances that are less convincing than other nominees.

And personally, I felt his performance in Colors of Fire lacked a certain level of authenticity the role demanded. There were moments where I became aware of performance rather than character. And once that awareness enters the viewing experience, immersion weakens.

Ironically, this same issue partially explains why Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù may not have fully connected with voters either, despite his immense talent.Authenticity matters deeply in culturally-rooted storytelling.

Personally, I thought Gabriel Afolayan gave a stronger overall performance than Uzor. But for me, the most technically demanding lead performance in the category came from William Benson in To Kill A Monkey.

Because that role required: psychological progression, emotional deterioration, vulnerability, internal conflict, sustained character evolution, and believable transformation across multiple episodes.

And he executed those transitions convincingly. The same reason Bucci Franklin works so effectively in supporting actor conversations is the same reason William Benson worked in lead actor discussions. The series format gave audiences time to observe character mutation. And he maximized that advantage exceptionally well.

Best Score vs Best Sound: Nollywood Keeps Confusing Both

This was probably the category where I disagreed most technically with the outcome because Nollywood audiences, and sometimes even industry conversations, constantly confuse musical score with sound design.

They are not the same thing. A score is musical storytelling. It is the emotional heartbeat of a film. It tells the audience: when to feel fear, tension, sadness, triumph, anxiety, or emotional release.

And for me, To Kill A Monkey had the strongest musical storytelling among the major contenders. Its score actively shaped emotional rhythm. Themes repeated intentionally. Character moments were reinforced through composition. The music was not passive background decoration. It was narrative participation.

Now let me be clear: My Father’s Shadow is an excellent film. In fact, I rooted for that film all night because I genuinely believe it represents the kind of cinematic maturity Nollywood desperately needs more of. But if the conversation is specifically about musical score, then To Kill A Monkey simply did more compositionally.

However, if the category had been Best Sound Design? Then My Father’s Shadow wins comfortably. Because sound design is about: sonic atmosphere, environmental texture, silence, ambient manipulation, psychological immersion, and non-musical storytelling. And My Father’s Shadow excelled in that area brilliantly. Its use of sound felt intentional, atmospheric, and psychologically immersive. That distinction matters.

And as critics, audiences, and award institutions, we need to stop using “sound” and “score” interchangeably. They are entirely different crafts.

The Trailblazer Debate

The AMVCA has never publicly released a definitive judging rubric for the Trailblazer category, but if you study previous winners carefully, certain patterns become obvious.The category is not simply asking: “Who is talented?” It is asking, “Who feels like the industry’s next major force?” That is a very different conversation. Again, Uche Montana is talented. This is not an attack on her work ethic or ability.

But when I compare the artistic momentum, trajectory, cultural positioning, and industry excitement surrounding her career versus Uzoamaka Aniunoh, I personally think Uzoamaka fit the historical pattern more strongly.

Ask yourself: Whose career visibly accelerated more aggressively within the eligibility period? Who currently feels artistically distinct? Who feels newly elevated rather than already comfortably established? Who feels like they are entering a creatively transformative phase? Because Trailblazer is symbolic. It is the industry publicly saying: “We believe this person is becoming essential.” And for me, Uzoamaka embodied that trajectory more clearly.

Why These Conversations Matter

At the end of the day, no award body on earth gets everything right. Awards will always remain subjective because art itself is subjective. But conversations like this still matter because criticism is healthy for cinema. Not toxicity, Not insults, Not stan wars. Critical engagement.

Because the stronger our conversations around film become, the stronger Nollywood itself becomes. And despite my disagreements, I still commend the Africa Magic Viewers’ Choice Awards for continuing to platform African cinema on a continental level. Especially the recognition given to My Father’s Shadow. That matters.

Because whether we agree with every winner or not, the larger mission should always be pushing African cinema toward greater artistic credibility globally. And that conversation is much bigger than one award night.