Children of Blood and Bone: The Commodification of Nollywood through the Western Gaze – Yinka Adetu

The debate over the recently announced cast list for the adaptation of Tomi Adeyemi’s Children of Blood and Bone reflects a politics of ambiguity.

On the one hand, there is excitement over Hollywood’s treatment of a story rooted in African mythology, elevating its global reach. On the other hand, there is a growing critique about the seeming erasure of Nollywood actors from this project. Many argue that a story so intricately tied to Nigerian culture can only achieve its full authenticity if helmed by Nigerian filmmakers and represented by Nollywood actors.

This argument, however, runs parallel to a backlash against Nollywood itself, as critics claim that the industry has yet to position its talent and production capabilities for global audiences. In this view, the underrepresentation of Nollywood actors in such projects is not seen as erasure but as an inevitable result of an industry still struggling with issues of professionalism, production quality, and global competitiveness.

This framing of Nollywood—an industry that is purely a Nigerian cultural invention—through a Western gaze reflects a limited understanding of what the industry represents. We can argue that Nollywood should compete globally, but the expectation that it must compete on Hollywood’s terms, or be validated through Hollywood’s inclusion, reduces the industry to a footnote in a conversation that it was never meant to lead.

It assumes that Nollywood’s worth is tied to its visibility in Western productions rather than its own trajectory, as though an industry that has shaped itself outside the framework of Western cinema is incomplete without its approval.

The adaptation of Children of Blood and Bone by Paramount, much like previous controversies—such as the backlash over Idris Elba’s casting as Okonkwo in the planned Hollywood adaptation of Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart—is a misplaced debate. These  adaptations are Hollywood productions, conceived and executed within Hollywood’s ecosystem, with little to no obligation to Nollywood.

Expecting Nollywood to be central to the production process of a film that was never designed within its structure is, at best, wishful thinking.

The conversation about underrepresentation should not be conflated with Nollywood’s supposed inability to compete; rather, it should lead to a conversation on how ownership, funding, and creative control of African stories remain largely in the hands of Western institutions. The concern should not be Nollywood’s absence from Children of Blood and Bone, but rather how African cinema can establish itself as a global force without waiting for Hollywood’s invitation.

Adeyemi’s Children of Blood and Bone, a story deeply rooted in Yoruba mythology, has cast actors such as Chiwetel Ejiofor, Idris Elba, Cynthia Erivo, Viola Davis, Thuso Mbedu, Tosin Cole, and Amandla Stenberg—talented performers, but largely disconnected from the lived realities of Nigeria. This has sparked debate, with many questioning whether these actors can fully capture the nuances of Nigerian culture beyond what research and external observation can provide. The concern is not about their talent but about the burden of representation—can they embody the quotidian reality, struggles, and rhythm of Nigerian life in a way that feels authentic?

The ongoing controversy over Emilia Perez, a film about a Mexican drug lord helmed by a French auteur and starring Spanish and Dominican leads is a case in point.

While this is not a case of Them vs Us, the concern about how the story will represent Nigeria—not just in its grand mythology but in its smaller, more intimate details—is crucial. There is a reason to believe that the portrayal of Nigerian culture in Children of Blood and Bone will be filtered more through external research than through intuitive, lived-in sensibilities. However, filmmaking is an inventive and immersive process, and great actors can embody roles convincingly with strong direction and careful study. Until the movie is released, the expectations for fair cultural representation – a portrayal that does not feel like a distant retelling – remain speculative.

Let us not also forget that Children of Blood and Bone is, at its core, a fantasy novel.

As it is, Nollywood’s exclusion from the casting of Children of Blood and Bone does not automatically diminish the story. In the same way that the inclusion of Nollywood actors would not guarantee cultural depth. The accuracy and emotional resonance of Nigerian representation in the film will depend not just on the faces we see on screen but on the intent behind the storytelling, the depth of research, and the willingness to move beyond stereotypes into something richer, nuanced and more grounded.

In all, Nollywood is not a commodity in Hollywood’s market. It is a self-sustaining industry with its own trajectory, shaped by the realities, aspirations, and sensibilities of its primary audience—Nigerians and, by extension, Africans. The expectation that Nollywood must be absorbed into Hollywood’s framework in order to be considered globally relevant diminishes its essence as an independent cinematic force.  Nollywood, with all its eccentricities and evolving potential, continues to define itself, not in relation to Hollywood, but in response to the needs and creative ambitions of the people it was built to serve.

*** Yinka Adetu is a Lagos-based culture writer, essayist, and literary critic.