As Hollywood continues to rely on outdated tropes, African filmmakers are pushing for authentic storytelling that accurately represents the continent’s diverse cultures and histories.
Hollywood, Its Representation of African Stories, and the Future of African Narratives
BY Ikenna Churchill
February 4, 2025
2:33 pm
Hollywood has long dominated global storytelling, but its portrayal of Africa remains fraught with stereotypes. From poverty-and-war clichés to “white savior” tropes, films like Blood Diamond (2006) and Tears of the Sun (2003) frame the continent as a lawless void requiring Western intervention, while The Last King of Scotland (2006) and Machine Gun Preacher (2011) perpetuate myths of non-African heroes “rescuing” Africans from themselves.

Even well-intentioned efforts like Hotel Rwanda (2004), which spotlighted the Rwandan genocide, drew criticism for prioritizing Western perspectives. British-Nigerian actress Sophie Okonedo earned an Oscar nomination for her role as Tatiana Rusesabagina, but the film’s framing through Don Cheadle’s Paul Rusesabagina—a hero elevated above the Rwandan community—underscored Hollywood’s tendency to center non-African voices.
When Hollywood engages African history, it often bends facts for spectacle. The Woman King (2022), inspired by the Agojie warriors of Dahomey, faced backlash for sanitizing the kingdom’s role in the slave trade. Similarly, Black Panther (2018) —while groundbreaking in its Afrocentric vision— remained a Marvel product shaped by Western studio mandates. These films, though celebrated, highlight a persistent tension: African stories filtered through Hollywood’s lens risk distortion for commercial appeal.

Yet African filmmakers, actors, and writers are challenging this narrow gaze. Lupita Nyong’o, Danai Gurira, and Chiwetel Ejiofor have become household names, using their platforms to advocate for authentic representation. Djimon Hounsou, a Benin-born actor with two Oscar nominations, has spoken candidly about the industry’s marginalization of African talent: “We’re still begging for roles that are three-dimensional.”
Behind the camera, directors like Chinonye Chukwu (Till), Blitz Bazawule (The Color Purple), and Wanuri Kahiu (Rafiki) are reshaping narratives. Streaming platforms have amplified this shift: Netflix’s Queen Sono (2020) and Blood & Water (2020) blend African authenticity with global appeal, while Disney’s collaboration with Lagos-based Kugali on Iwájú (2024)—a sci-fi series rooted in Yoruba culture—signals growing respect for African creative control.

Nollywood, Nigeria’s $6.4 billion film industry, epitomizes this resurgence. Genevieve Nnaji’s Lionheart (2018), though controversially disqualified from the Oscars for its English dialogue, proved Nollywood’s capacity to balance production quality and cultural specificity. Kunle Afolayan’s Aníkúlápó (2022), a Yoruba epic streamed globally on Netflix, and C.J. Obasi’s Mami Wata (2023)—a Sundance award-winner—showcase Africa’s ability to lead in genre innovation.
Yet Nollywood’s rise coexists with systemic challenges: piracy, funding gaps, and distribution barriers. The Black Book (2023), a gritty thriller starring Richard Mofe-Damijo, demonstrated that Nollywood can rival Hollywood’s polish, but sustained growth requires investment in infrastructure and fair partnerships with global platforms.

Hollywood’s engagement with African culture often straddles exploitation and collaboration. Black Panther’s celebration of Afrofuturism and isiXhosa language was groundbreaking, yet its profit-driven framework —a Marvel blockbuster directed by Ryan Coogler— sparked debates about who benefits from African stories. Similarly, Beyoncé’s Black Is King (2020) drew praise for its Pan-African aesthetics but criticism for romanticizing the continent while overlooking its modern complexities.
True cultural exchange requires reciprocity. Ghanaian director Blitz Bazawule’s The Burial of Kojo (2018), acquired by Ava DuVernay’s ARRAY, retained its artistic integrity despite global distribution. Conversely, The Lion King (2019) used Swahili phrases and African-inspired visuals yet excluded African writers and directors —a stark example of appropriation.

Nollywood offers a blueprint for ethical collaboration. Netflix’s partnership with Kunle Afolayan on Aníkúlápó allowed the filmmaker to retain creative autonomy, proving African stories can thrive without Western editorializing. As Kenyan-Mexican actress Lupita Nyong’o declared in her Oscar speech: “No matter where you’re from, your dreams are valid.”

The trajectory of African storytelling will hinge on homegrown industries, not Hollywood’s validation. Nollywood, alongside Kenya’s Riverwood and South Africa’s cinema, is redefining Africa’s global image through films like Nanny (2022)—a Senegalese-American horror that won Sundance’s Grand Jury Prize—and Elesin Oba: The King’s Horseman (2022), a Netflix adaptation of Wole Soyinka’s play. Upcoming projects signal a seismic shift: a film adaptation of Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, produced by Idris Elba and David Oyelowo, and Children of Blood and Bone (2027), a Hollywood-Nollywood co-production inspired by Yoruba mythology. These ventures, coupled with streaming’s democratization of access, suggest a future where African narratives are no longer exceptions but pillars of global cinema. As director C.J. Obasi argued after Mami Wata’s Sundance win: “We’re not waiting for permission anymore. We’re building our own tables.”
Hollywood’s portrayal of Africa remains a paradox—simultaneously progressive and regressive. Yet the rise of Nollywood and African creators signals a reclaiming of agency. The question is no longer whether African stories will be told but who gets to tell them. As collaborations like Iwájú and Aníkúlápó prove, the answer lies in equitable partnerships, not extraction.

The future of African storytelling isn’t in Hollywood’s hands; it’s in Nollywood’s studios, Lagos’ animation hubs, and the laptops of writers from Dakar to Johannesburg.
Africa’s stories, finally, are its own to shape.