Dr. Tolu Fagbure has offended many, once again, in the second episode of his no-holds-barred interview with Bamidele Adeyanju on the Agbaletu podcast.
Understandably, many are hopping mad at his caustic and brutal style of critique. Yet, in my view, Tolu simply reenacts the timeless Yoruba proverb: “Olooto ilu ni ika ilu.” Loosely translated, it means the truthful person is often regarded as the wicked one in his community. Why? Because truth hurts.
Tolu also likes to call himself Afin, and indeed, that is what he is. Afin means a person with albinism, and, in traditional Yoruba belief, the albino is often regarded as occupying a unique place within the Orisa cosmology.
Tolu Fagbure And Nollywood
So, perhaps, we should minimise our anger and hear him out. (That’s humour, by the way.)
I have been amused by many of the comments and reviews that followed the podcast. I am convinced that a good number of those reacting did not sit through the three-hour conversation.
Had they listened to even half of it, they would have discovered that beneath the abrasiveness lay several valid observations. The only snag?
Tolu is without tact. He is blunt, undiplomatic, and unapologetically direct.
Yet filmmakers, actors, producers, and directors have much to learn from his discussion, if they can push aside the insults and pick the nuggets capable of improving their craft.
Sometimes truth comes from the most unlikely places, the village drunk, the person dismissed as unintelligent, or the one considered too intelligent and therefore annoying.
I have learned over time to, sometimes, take the message even when I do not particularly like the messenger.
Here is why.
Critics, regardless of their field, are not employed to be nice. They are expected to examine a body of work almost dispassionately, often from an elevated vantage point.
If a critic makes you uncomfortable, there is a fair chance he or she is doing the job well, even if it does not feel pleasant.
A critic is like a building inspector. The inspector’s duty is to identify structural defects, not to flatter the architect. That process is rarely comfortable.
Perhaps, that explains why so many are offended by Tolu. He lays bare flaws that audiences sometimes overlook because of blind affection for their favourite actors.
No, Tolu is not right all the time. No critic is. But I would still give him an upper credit for consistently identifying weaknesses and, in doing so, challenging thespians to become better.
Movies all over the world are critiqued. That is why we often hear the phrase “critically acclaimed.” Once a producer releases a film, that work immediately comes under public scrutiny. Cast and crew alike must therefore be prepared to be roasted or praised.
Great actors, because they are the most visible faces of a production, are those who absorb criticism and honestly evaluate what they can improve. They are entitled to their private emotions, but professionalism demands that they receive criticism with grace.
Tolu openly critiques the acting styles of many popular Nigerian actors. He likens Toyin Abraham Ajeyemi to a female version of Odunlade Adekola, arguing that their naturally humorous and carefree personalities sometimes seep into their performances.
As a result, he opined, scenes that ought to carry emotional weight can still feel unintentionally comic because traces of their familiar body language remain.
His recommendation? An acting coach.
Frankly, I think that is a reasonable suggestion. Odunlade is already playing on much bigger screens, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with polishing one’s craft.
Many celebrated actors around the world continue to attend acting academies and work with coaches throughout their careers.
I recall watching Nimbe, where both Odunlade and Toyin played the parents of Chimezie Imo’s character.
Personally, I felt that elements of their comic personas slightly undermined the gravity of the bullying and emotional trauma experienced by their son.
Others may disagree, but it illustrates the point Tolu was making. His broader criticism of comedy is that much of today’s comedy lacks substance.
He contrasts it with the works of the late Pa Moses Adejumo (Baba Sala), whose comedy brilliantly tackled societal ills, government policies, and family dynamics, while making audiences laugh.
As Tolu memorably puts it and he insists on being quoted “Comedy, as the most unserious form of drama, is actually the most serious form of drama.”
He credits the success of Funke Akindele‘s Jenifa franchise to its ability to entertain while confronting social issues.
He also argues that Funke has mastered branding, cinema politics, public relations, and aggressive marketing in ways that have kept her ahead of contemporaries like Toyin Abraham Ajeyemi and Mercy Aigbe Adeoti.
According to him, Mercy may have stronger storylines, but success in cinema also depends on factors beyond storytelling.
He further questions the current rush to take every film to the cinema.
Whether one agrees with him or not, he raises an important point: cinema is not merely about making films; it is about understanding an ecosystem that includes distribution, marketing, boardroom politics, and audience positioning.
Hollywood has never been without fearless critics. Roger Ebert was one of them. He spared no one when a film deserved criticism, and actors understood that such scrutiny came with the territory.
The industry often looked up to critics like him, not because they were always right, but because serious criticism can elevate an industry.
Perhaps, ours should do the same.
If Dr. Tolu Fagbure tears apart your favourite actor’s performance or crushes a film you love, maybe it is not entirely a bad thing. Maybe, just maybe, that discomfort is an invitation to become better.
Besides, Tolu possesses enough self-deprecating humour to laugh at himself too.
And on a lighter note… perhaps, Afin is an Orisa for a reason.
