Joshua Olaoluwa does not dwell on awards. Not because he does not appreciate them, but because he has learned that the only way to keep moving forward is to treat every victory as just another walk. You do it, you take a breath, and you start the next one.
That discipline has served the Nigerian producer well. Over the past few years, he has held the number one spot on Netflix Nigeria with A Sunday Affair and simultaneously the number one spot on Amazon Prime Video Nigeria with Grind, a rare double that would make most producers pause to celebrate. But Olaoluwa was already deep into his next challenge: a tiny Kenya-Nigeria co-production shot in a village with no electricity, no hotels, and a director who wanted to change the ending days before the shoot wrapped.
That film is One Woman One Bra, a satire about a 38-year-old woman in rural Kenya named Star who faces eviction because land deeds in her community are based on kinship ties. She has no known parents and no husband, which means, in the eyes of the system, she has no right to stay. It is a story about identity, belonging, and land rights, but it is also unexpectedly funny. The film made history as the first Nigerian-produced feature to premiere at the Venice International Film Festival and, shortly after, it won the Sutherland Award for Best Debut Film at the BFI London Film Festival.
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For Olaoluwa, the journey began with a director he trusted completely.
A Partnership Built on Trust
Olaoluwa has been working with filmmaker Vincho Nchogu since 2021. When she told him she wanted him to produce her feature directorial debut and that she would be applying to the Biennale College in Venice with it, his first instinct was hesitation. He wondered if the story, which centres on a woman navigating deeply patriarchal structures, might need a female producer.
Vincho told him she wanted him anyway. So he read the first draft.
“I was sold,” Olaoluwa says. “I loved how her entry point into talking about this very topical issue was so deft. You are talking about something extremely serious, but you handle it in a way that is not didactic. You are not preaching. I thought it was a very timely story that we needed to tell, especially from our point of view as Africans.”
That is Olaoluwa’s primary filter for taking on a project. It is not the budget or the festival potential or even the idea itself. It is the people.
“Film is like a marriage,” he tells The Nollywood Reporter. “If you make films with people, you are tied with them for at least four, five, six years of your life. In some cases, the rest of your life. So how I choose projects is first: are these good people? Can I tolerate them? Can I have dinner with this person and not feel awkward? As simple and as funny as that might sound, it is the number one for me. I really have to feel comfortable and safe around my collaborators.”
Making a Film Without Electricity
One Woman One Bra was shot in a remote village in Kenya called Dally. There was no power and no hotels. The crew had to travel from Nairobi with all their equipment and supplies. Olaoluwa, a Nigerian who does not speak Swahili or Maasai, suddenly found himself learning to produce all over again.
“We had a limited budget and limited time,” he says. “The film had to premiere in Venice in August, and we shot in March. From production to premiere in just a few months, for a film of that size, with post-production happening across multiple territories, the timelines were insane.”
At first, they worried about not being able to bring heavy lighting equipment into the village. Then the director of photography, Mohammed, suggested they lean into natural light. Today, one of the most common compliments the film receives is on its cinematography.
“When you have less, it forces you to do more with it,” Olaoluwa says. “I was production manager, bankroller, accountant, everything. Vincho was writer, director, and costume designer. We had to abandon every traditional sense of filmmaking. We were filming like nomads. We would wake up, shoot what we could shoot, not kill ourselves, and go back to bed.”
The cast included first-time actors from the community, and the script had to be translated from English to Maasai. Vincho, who does not speak Maasai, had to trust that the emotions were translating correctly. On the day they shot the film’s climactic monologue, the extras, who were not actors but villagers, started crying on set. After the protagonist delivered the speech, the entire crew froze for several minutes. Nobody moved. Nobody said anything.
“That scene still makes people cry in cinema halls,” Olaoluwa says. “But we did not set out to make a film that would make people cry. We just wanted to make a film that meant a lot to us. Every time we watch it, we feel it too. And then other people feel it. My simple answer is: find films that resonate with you first. The rest is just a bonus.”
Finding the Balance Between Humor and Seriousness
One of the trickiest elements of One Woman One Bra is its tone. The subject matter is heavy, but the film is satire. It makes you laugh even as it makes you angry. Olaoluwa credits Vincho entirely for that balance.
“From development, it was very clear that we could not dilute the message,” he says. “But if you are familiar with Vincho’s past work, she has a sense of humor that is very unique. It does not take away from the subject matter. Early on, people who read the first draft said the comedic timing was working because it was not trivialising the situation. If anything, the satire drove the point home.”
He remembers one production challenge that tested that trust. A few days before the end of shooting, Vincho told him she did not feel the ending in the script anymore. She said it did not feel natural given how the shoot had gone. She also did not know what the new ending should be.
“Normally, I would panic,” Olaoluwa says. “My director and writer is telling me she wants to change the ending of the film, and she does not know the ending yet. But I had to trust the process. She sat with Mohammed, our DOP, for hours, just talking and shooting, talking and shooting. Then they came back and said, okay, we think we have the ending. This is how it feels natural for the film to end. As a producer, my instinct was not to say no because that is not what we budgeted for. I said, if this feels right, let’s do it. And we did it. And it came out right.”
What International Labs and Platforms Taught Him
Olaoluwa has been through the Red Sea Lodge, the Torino Film Lab, Film Independent, and the Biennale College. Those experiences, he says, made the world smaller. He is now one call away from resources he could not access before. The studio that colour graded One Woman One Bra, Picture Shop, has done work on films like Black Panther and The Lion King. He made that connection through Film Independent.
“These labs connect you to the world,” he says. “You meet the best filmmakers at your level from everywhere. And you realise that your approach to filmmaking is right. When you are making films on the continent, sometimes you begin to doubt. You ask, why am I doing things the right way? Am I doing this how films are made? Then you are in a room with peers from different continents, and you realise you all have similar struggles. The world is more similar than different.”
At the same time, working on mainstream hits for Netflix and Amazon Prime taught him about audience taste. Both A Sunday Affair and Grind reached number one in Nigeria, and those experiences sharpened his commercial instincts. The combination of lab training and commercial success, he says, helped him stop thinking of himself as a Nigerian filmmaker and start thinking of himself simply as a filmmaker.
“Your peers are making films going to the Oscars and the Golden Globes,” he says. “When you show up with your work, you have to come correct because there is no excuse. Why should your cinema not feel global?”
Cross-Border Collaboration as the Future
Olaoluwa does not see One Woman One Bra as a statement about Pan-African collaboration. He sees it as something that happened naturally. Vincho is Kenyan. He is Nigerian. They had similar goals and similar processes, so they made a film together. But he believes this model could expand further if institutions and governments step in.
“It is easier for me to travel to London than to go to some African countries that are three or four hours away from me,” he says. “The fact that we do not have those pathways in Africa means we still have a long way to go. But I do feel like that is the future. We need an African model of distribution. Imagine if I could distribute my film in Nigeria, Kenya, Tanzania, South Africa, and Ghana. That is more African money staying on the continent.”
He points to Afrobeats as an example. The music traveled across Africa first, then to the rest of the world. He thinks independent African films could do the same, but only with institutional support. He mentions the African Development Bank as one institution doing good work, and he points to European models like the CNC fund in France or the Venice production bridge.
“Over time, there is only so much that individuals can do without institutionalized help,” he says. “Imagine if there were a fund for Kenya-Nigeria co-productions. Imagine if ease of travel were figured out. That would make it practical. Right now, within the lifespan of this project, I have been back and forth to Kenya four or five times. It is harder than flying to Canada. For it to be sustainable, we need more support.”
What Comes Next
Olaoluwa is not someone who rewrites his own laurels. When One Woman One Bra won the Sutherland Award at BFI London, he acknowledged it, felt grateful, and then started raising money for the next film.
“There is really nothing you have done that someone else has not done,” he says. “If you pay attention to history, nothing is new. When you keep reminding yourself of that, it keeps you grounded. I look at my career and I just ask: what is the next most important thing for me to do? I want to do a gazillion things. Just, what is the next step? I need to get into this lab. I need to make this film. I need to acquire this skill. Then you look back after three years, and you realize, oh, I built that. I achieved all of this.”
He plans to keep telling African stories he truly believes in and finding places for them in the world. But he also plans to rest.
“There is a time for sewing and a time for reaping,” he says. “I have worked so hard to bring all these projects to life. Now it is okay to take a break, decide what is next, and go for it. The key has always been focus on the immediate next thing, execute it, and let it compound over time.”
For now, One Woman One Bra continues its festival run. More announcements are coming, Olaoluwa says, and he is excited for all the things that will still happen to this film. But if you ask him what it all means for his career, he will give you the same answer he gives about everything else.
“It is just another walk. You do it and you move on to the next one.”
