There are stories filmmakers chase because they promise spectacle. Then there are stories they pursue because looking away no longer feels like an option.
For director Sonia John and producer Bolaji Gelax, Ikemefuna: Big Boys Don’t Cry belongs firmly in the latter category. The short film confronts the often-overlooked reality of boy-child sexual abuse, a subject that remains shrouded in silence despite its devastating consequences. Rather than approach it through shock or sensationalism, the filmmakers tell the story with empathy, trusting quiet moments and difficult conversations to carry its emotional weight.
The project also reflects a shared creative instinct. Both John and Gelax are drawn to stories that linger long after the credits roll, particularly those that challenge familiar assumptions and invite audiences to see uncomfortable realities differently. That common ground became the foundation of their collaboration on Ikemefuna, a film they hope will encourage conversations many families and communities have avoided for generations.
In this exclusive interview with The Nollywood Reporter (TNR), the filmmakers discuss why the story felt impossible to ignore, the realities of making an independent film with limited resources, the creative partnership that held the project together, and what they hope audiences take away from it.
The Beginning of The Story
John describes herself as “a jack of all trades” in filmmaking. Alongside directing and producing, she enjoys the business side of the industry, from building systems and solving problems to helping ideas find their footing. Yet what continues to draw her back to filmmaking is something much simpler.
“The idea that you can start with absolutely nothing but a thought, a feeling, or a question in your mind, and later, people are watching that vision come alive,” she says. “Every film begins as something invisible, and then suddenly it becomes real enough to make people laugh, cry, question themselves or see the world differently. I find that magical every single time.”
Gelax, a producer, documentary filmmaker, showrunner and talent manager, shares a similar outlook. She describes herself as “a simple yet complex girl” who loves colours and bringing ideas to life. For her, filmmaking is exciting because a single story has the power to shift perspectives, spark conversations and even influence culture when handled with care.
“As a producer, I know my decisions, actions or even inactions can make or mar a project,” she says. “That responsibility inspires me to show up at my best every time.”
That shared commitment to meaningful storytelling made Ikemefuna an easy decision.
“Ikemefuna: Big Boys Don’t Cry* is incredibly personal to me,” John says. Beyond its subject matter, she explains, the film marked a turning point in her own career. It is the first non-commissioned fiction project she has directed and produced independently, requiring her to build the production from the ground up rather than join after funding had already been secured.
“I’m used to being brought into projects after the funding has been secured, but this time, I had to build something from almost nothing,” she says. “It became my baby.”
The journey, she says, demanded far more than simply making a film. It became a test of conviction, proving to herself that passion could sustain a story even when resources were scarce.
“It wasn’t just about making a film anymore,” she says. “It was about proving to ourselves that passion and conviction could carry a story, even when resources were limited.”
Gelax remembers reading the script by John and Arebun Joshua and immediately recognising the kind of story she wanted to help bring to life.
“My first response was, ‘Found the producer you’re looking for yet?'” she recalls with a laugh.
“The more hushed the subject matter is, the more interested I am in the story.”
That instinct would become the beginning of a creative partnership built on the belief that some stories deserve to be told, no matter how difficult the conversation they invite.
Why the Boy Child Story Matters
For John, Ikemefuna: Big Boys Don’t Cry begins with a question she has carried for years: who decided that boys should suffer in silence?
The filmmaker believes many of the assumptions society places on boys from childhood have made stories like Ikemefuna far less visible than they should be. While girls are often taught how to protect themselves, express their emotions and navigate the world carefully, she argues that boys are more frequently expected to simply endure.
“I think our societies have done an excellent job convincing us that boys will always be alright,” she says. “They’re expected to figure life out, be strong and keep going.”
To John, those expectations do more than silence boys. They shape how families, schools and communities respond to their pain.
“Trauma doesn’t care about gender,” she says. “Until we stop treating vulnerability as weakness in boys, stories like this will continue to be overlooked.”
Gelax agrees, though she approaches the conversation from a different perspective. She believes the silence extends into storytelling itself, with many men unconsciously reproducing the same culture that taught them to suppress difficult experiences.
“Even when they grow up and become storytellers, many still don’t tell these stories,” she says. “That’s why we have far fewer films about the boy child.”
For both filmmakers, the decision to centre a boy’s experience was never about shifting attention away from girls. It was about widening the conversation to include stories that rarely find space on screen.
Building Ikemefuna
Making the film demanded the same resilience it asks of its audience.
John jokes that the production felt like Murphy’s Law in action, with almost everything that could go wrong finding a way to do so. One day, heavy rainfall trapped nearly half the crew in traffic for hours, yet postponing the shoot was never an option because losing the location would have created an even bigger setback.
“We had to keep finding ways to move forward despite the chaos,” she says.
The biggest challenge, however, came after filming wrapped. Working with limited resources meant Ikemefuna remained in post-production for almost a year. To keep the project moving, John found herself editing the film, creating subtitles, cutting the trailer and even designing promotional materials herself.
“When you’re that immersed in a project, you can lose perspective,” she admits. “You become attached to certain scenes and forget to see the film the way an audience would.”
She credits trusted friends and collaborators for providing the honest feedback that helped shape the final cut.
Throughout those moments, Gelax became more than a producer.
At one point during pre-production, John was ready to postpone filming because the pieces simply were not coming together. Gelax refused.
“I called her and said maybe we should move the shoot,” John recalls. “She wouldn’t hear of it.”
Looking back, she describes that decision as one of the reasons the film exists at all.
“Gelax is the reason we made this film,” she says. “She carried the production so I could focus on directing.
Finding someone who believes in your vision as much as you do is rare.”
For Gelax, the partnership worked because they shared the same creative instincts from the beginning.
“We never had a fight throughout the entire process,” she says. “From development to production, we were aligned. It honestly felt like we were supposed to make this film together.”
The Characters That Stayed With Them
Although Ikemefuna revolves around just three central characters, both filmmakers single out Eucharia, played by Stella Okoligwe, as the story’s emotional anchor.
John is fascinated by the contradictions the character embodies.
“Eucharia genuinely believes she’s protecting her son,” she says. “Everything she does comes from love, even when that love becomes destructive.”
For the director, that tension makes the character difficult to judge and impossible to dismiss.
“People aren’t always simply good or bad,” she says. “That’s what makes characters like Eucharia interesting.”
Gelax sees something equally familiar in the role.
To her, Eucharia reflects people who remain in painful situations because they believe endurance is an act of love. She draws parallels with women who sacrifice their own wellbeing for what they believe will ultimately benefit their children.
“She reminds me of people who settle because they think it’s for the greater good,” Gelax says. “Sometimes they don’t realise there’s another life waiting if they’re willing to choose differently.”
That complexity, both filmmakers believe, is what gives Ikemefuna its emotional weight. Rather than searching for heroes or villains, the film asks audiences to consider how love, silence and fear can exist within the same person.
Beyond the Screen
For both filmmakers, Ikemefuna: Big Boys Don’t Cry is less about providing answers than creating space for conversations that rarely happen.
John believes the film’s central theme is love, but not the comforting version audiences often expect. Instead, she is interested in how love, when stripped of wisdom and accountability, can become harmful.
“What fascinates me about Ikemefuna is that so much of the tragedy happens because Eucharia genuinely believes she is acting out of love for her son,” she says. “She isn’t trying to hurt him. That idea unsettles me.”
The film, she adds, is a reminder that good intentions do not always lead to good outcomes.
“Love is just as dangerous as it is beautiful. It can create incredible acts of kindness, but it can also create unimaginable harm.”
Gelax found herself returning to a different idea: silence.
Throughout the film, Eucharia repeatedly tells Ikemefuna, “Big boys don’t cry” and “Big boys don’t talk too much.” Those moments, she says, lingered with her long after production ended.
“I cringe every time I hear those lines because I know I’ve heard boys being told that in different ways and different languages,” she says. “When you think about where we are today, you begin to understand the damage those ideas can cause.”
That hope for difficult but necessary conversations sits at the heart of what both women want audiences to take away from the film.
More than anything, John hopes Ikemefuna encourages people to ask questions they may have avoided for years, whether as parents, teachers, caregivers or community leaders.
“I hope people begin to listen when boys say they’re hurting,” she says. “Conversations create room for healing. If one boy feels seen because of this film, then I believe we’ve already begun creating the change we hoped for.”
Gelax recalls a discussion that followed one of the film’s early screenings after its premiere at FilmJoint Premieres 2026. Listening to audience members, she was struck by how some men spoke about childhood sexual abuse as though it were an achievement rather than a violation.
“I hope Ikemefuna helps more men realise that abuse is not a conquest and shouldn’t be treated as one,” she says. “If the conversations continue long after the credits roll, then we’ve done what we set out to do.”
The pair are equally pragmatic when discussing the realities of filmmaking. John rejects the idea that emerging filmmakers must choose between meaningful storytelling and commercial success, arguing that the strongest films find ways to achieve both.
“We’re often told it’s either art or business,” she says. “I don’t believe that. Tell great stories, master your craft, understand your audience and think about distribution long before you roll the cameras. If the work connects with people, they will pay to experience it.”
Gelax is less interested in prescribing a single path. Every filmmaker’s journey, she says, is different. What matters is making sure every story, regardless of its scale or genre, remains grounded in something recognisably human.
“Let every story have a human angle,” she says with a smile. “Hopefully, you’ll get paid for it too.”
For John and Gelax, however, success is measured by more than ticket sales or festival selections. If Ikemefuna: Big Boys Don’t Cry encourages even one person to question long-held assumptions about masculinity, vulnerability and the stories society chooses to ignore, then the film has already achieved something meaningful.
