Abba T. Makama does not separate the disciplines in his head. He sees himself as an artist first, with film as the medium he works in most visibly. “I’ve never really separated the disciplines in my head because they all feed each other,” he says. “Sometimes an idea wants to become a film. Sometimes it wants to become an installation, a photograph, a conversation, or an object.”
That fluidity runs through his career. After studying business management, he turned to film at New York University. The shift began to make sense around 2005, when he was rewatching Reservoir Dogs and Good Will Hunting. He realized film was more than entertainment. It was a language, “a way of thinking, questioning, dreaming, and documenting life.”
The people around him thought he was crazy. He was abandoning a conventional path for something less certain.
“Choosing art over stability can feel irrational to people around you,” he tells The Nollywood Reporter. “But I think every artist, especially from places where survival is prioritized, has to make peace with being misunderstood for a while. Eventually, the work starts speaking for itself.”
His work has earned international recognition. He directed Green White Green and The Lost Okoroshi, both of which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival. With C.J. “Fiery” Obasi and Michael Omonua, he co-founded the Surreal16 Collective, whose anthology film Juju Stories premiered at Locarno and won the Boccalino d’Oro for Best Film. His Al Jazeera documentary, Nollywood: Something From Nothing, was nominated for Best Documentary at the 2016 Africa Movie Academy Awards.
His nickname, Dodorowski, captures his artistic identity. The “Dodo” comes from masquerade culture and spirit imagery, while the “rowski” nods to filmmaker Alejandro Jodorowsky.
“It became more than just a nickname,” Makama says. “It became a philosophy. The permission to create without fear of category.”
That philosophy rests on his belief that African life already contains surrealism. “There’s comedy inside tragedy, spirituality inside chaos, and surrealism inside everyday life.”
The sensibility also shaped Surreal16. When the collective began, its members felt like outsiders. They wanted to make films that reflected their realities without being pressured into established formulas.
Its 16-rule manifesto rejected familiar Nollywood conventions, including fake accents, witch doctors, and Lekki Bridge shots.
“The manifesto gave us identity and discipline,” Makama says. “Some of it was serious; some of it was playful. But underneath the humor was a real desire to protect artistic integrity and encourage risk-taking.”
Nearly a decade later, the manifesto’s spirit remains, even as Nollywood has changed. The industry has become more experimental and gained greater international visibility, and Surreal16 has evolved with it.
“The core values remain,” Makama says. “Authenticity, collaboration, artistic courage, and creating cinema that feels spiritually and culturally honest.”
But the collective was never just about making films. “It was about building community. A lot of us were trying to create the ecosystem we wished existed for us.”
That ecosystem is now taking physical form. At the close of the 2025 S16 Film Festival, the collective announced plans for a film lab, monthly screenings in collaboration with the Goethe-Institut, and a distribution partnership with the Nigerian Television Authority.
The plans also include S16 Films, a production arm, and the S16 Centre, a proposed facility that will house a film institute, a film school, a cinema space, a café, a shop, and a library. The 2026 edition of the festival is scheduled to return to Lagos in December.
“The long-term dream is much bigger than just making films,” Makama says. “We want to build an actual cultural institution. Something sustainable that can nurture future generations of filmmakers and artists.”
He imagines a space where people can watch films, study, collaborate, and experiment.
“One of the biggest challenges for artists in Nigeria is the lack of infrastructure and continuity,” he says. “People are constantly rebuilding from scratch. Part of the dream is creating structures that outlive individuals.”
For Makama, the ambition extends beyond creating opportunities for himself and his contemporaries. He wants to build something that can continue supporting filmmakers long after the people who established it have moved on.
While he works towards that goal, he continues to make films. His latest, Silence Is Loud, marks a departure from the surrealism associated with his earlier work. Produced through the Àjose initiative, the short film uses storytelling to confront silence around women’s reproductive health.
It follows Henrietta, a literature teacher and single mother played by Uzoamaka Power, who notices a bright student, Ayo, played by Sapphire Ekeng, withdrawing from the world. Rumors have spread that Ayo has contracted HIV. The rumors are baseless, but they do not need to be true to cause harm.
Makama describes the film as a deliberately restrained piece of work.
“I approached the film with a minimalist aesthetic, both visually and narratively, allowing the characters and their internal worlds to take center stage,” he says.
It is the first time he has directed a script he did not write. The screenplay was written by Tapsy Gomwalk and Dika Ofoma.
“The themes, including bullying, sex education, reproductive rights, and the coming-of-age experience, are themes that matter deeply to me,” he says.
The decision to step back from surrealism came from the material rather than a desire to abandon his established style.
“Sometimes people talk about spirituality or philosophy in ways that feel inaccessible or heavy,” Makama says. “African storytelling traditions often use humor to communicate profound truths. But some stories demand a different register.”
The film is available to watch on Zikoko’s YouTube channel.
International recognition has helped Makama’s career. Festivals in Toronto, Locarno and at the BFI have given his work visibility and opened doors.
“It validates that stories from Nigeria can travel and resonate globally,” he says.
Local recognition, however, matters just as much to him. “Maybe even more sometimes. There’s something deeply meaningful about your own people understanding what you’re trying to do.”
“If someone in Lagos or Jos watches one of my films and feels seen or inspired, that means a lot,” he adds.
He is conscious of the risk of becoming disconnected from local audiences. Ideally, he says, the work should be internationally legible while remaining spiritually rooted at home.
That balance informs his advice to young filmmakers. If a young person from Jos approached him with a script and a phone camera, he would tell them their voice matters precisely because it is different.
“Sometimes being outside the center can actually become your strength creatively. A lot of the most interesting art comes from people observing the world slightly from the margins.”
He would also tell them not to wait for permission.
“The technology is more accessible now than ever before. What matters most is developing perspective, discipline, and curiosity.”
Above all, he says, they must find their own voice. “Trends disappear quickly, but authenticity lasts.”
For Makama, that principle connects the surrealism of Green White Green, the quieter storytelling of Silence Is Loud, and the expanding ambitions of Surreal16. His work continues to evolve, but the long-term goal remains the same: to create something that lasts and build the structures that will allow others to do the same.
