
Veteran Nigerian actress Omotola Jalade-Ekeinde has once again sparked conversation around the ongoing challenges facing Nigeria’s film industry, popularly known as Nollywood. In a recent social media post that has since gone viral, the star actress—who has graced screens both locally and internationally—voiced her frustration about the lack of a proper payment structure in Nollywood, especially in contrast to her experiences working in Hollywood. According to her, she still receives monthly royalty payments for her Hollywood work, but nothing at all from Nollywood, despite her decades of contribution to the industry.
The declaration came with a candid and pointed statement: “Nollywood needs structure.” And it hit like a thunderclap, not because the sentiment is entirely new, but because it came from a figure of immense credibility—someone who has lived through the best and worst of the industry. Omotola, often referred to as “Omosexy” by fans, is not just an actress but a bona fide cultural icon who has featured in over 300 films, influencing a generation of movie lovers across Africa. Her voice, therefore, carries weight.
Her remark is more than a casual complaint. It is a cry of frustration from a veteran whose works helped build the very foundation of the industry, yet has received little to no lasting compensation from it. She revealed that, long after wrapping up projects in Hollywood, she continues to receive scheduled, automated monthly royalty payments—something practically nonexistent in Nollywood. That contrast, she implied, says everything.
Her statement was met with an outpouring of reactions. Some praised her courage for speaking up about a problem that many in the industry have experienced but often fear addressing publicly. Others expressed deep concern about what this says about the long-term viability of Nollywood as a profession. After all, if someone of Omotola’s caliber is still not being compensated fairly for work she did years ago, what hope is there for upcoming actors, writers, directors, and crew members?
This isn’t the first time issues of structure—or lack thereof—have been raised about Nollywood. From contract inconsistencies to missing royalty frameworks, actors and stakeholders have long lamented the informal and often exploitative nature of the business. What Omotola has now brought to the spotlight is how glaringly behind the system is when compared to global standards. Her revelation pulls back the curtain on the absence of residual income, a cornerstone of sustainable film industries worldwide.
In Hollywood, it is standard practice for actors, writers, and even behind-the-scenes staff to receive royalties or residuals each time a film or series they worked on is streamed, aired, or sold. This system ensures that creative professionals continue to benefit from their intellectual labor. For many, residuals are the financial lifeline that keeps them afloat between gigs. In Nollywood, however, the story is very different. Actors are typically paid a flat fee for their work—often modest by international standards—and that’s the end of the road. The film may go on to make millions in DVD sales, streaming rights, or licensing deals, but the original creatives seldom see another naira.
Omotola’s statement reopens the conversation about why this is the case in an industry that ranks as the second-largest film industry in the world by volume. The answer, as many industry insiders have noted, lies in the absence of proper legal frameworks, guild enforcement, digital rights management, and corporate accountability. Contracts are frequently verbal or poorly documented, producers often operate on razor-thin budgets, and there’s a pervasive lack of regulatory oversight. Piracy also plays a devastating role, further eroding trust and income potential.
The star’s comments come at a time when Nollywood is undergoing significant transformation, with the rise of streaming giants like Netflix and Prime Video investing heavily in Nigerian content. This influx of capital has raised hopes for a new era of professionalization and financial accountability. But as Omotola’s experience underscores, those hopes are yet to materialize into systemic changes that benefit all stakeholders.
Many fans and followers were shocked by her admission, not because they doubted her honesty, but because it highlighted how deeply flawed the system remains even at the top. If Omotola is not getting residuals, what becomes of those actors whose names never make the credits roll or the ones who worked on films that have quietly disappeared into obscurity?
The reaction online has been swift. Social media platforms lit up with support for her and calls for reform. One user on X (formerly Twitter) wrote, “If Omotola can’t get paid for old work, what’s the point of putting your heart into this industry?” Another said, “She just said what we all know but never say out loud. Nollywood is surviving on passion, not structure.”
It’s a sobering thought, and one that reflects the lived experience of many in the industry. Passion, while admirable, is not enough to sustain an entire ecosystem. At some point, structure—real, enforceable, transparent structure—must take center stage.
In response to the controversy, some Nollywood producers and directors have defended the current system, citing the challenges of operating within a country still grappling with infrastructural deficits and unstable economic conditions. However, critics argue that these justifications have become stale. As one industry analyst put it, “The world has moved on. The audience has moved on. Technology has moved on. Nollywood cannot afford to remain stuck in 2002.”
Omotola’s statement is both a critique and a call to action. She’s not merely airing a grievance; she’s advocating for the industry she helped build. Her message is simple but urgent: talent must be rewarded not just once, but continually. And without proper systems to ensure that, Nollywood risks burning out its brightest stars and discouraging new ones from entering the fray.
In the days since her comment, the discussion has grown louder. Actors, producers, fans, and industry observers are engaging in difficult but necessary conversations. Some are even calling for a union-led summit to address the issue head-on, proposing steps toward implementing residual payment systems, standardizing contracts, and ensuring digital rights tracking.
Whether or not Nollywood heeds this latest wake-up call remains to be seen. But what is clear is that Omotola’s voice has once again sparked the kind of conversation the industry can no longer afford to ignore.