Photo courtesy of the author.
The written word has always carried the power to transcend the page and be reimagined on screen, but the translation from script to film is anything but simple; it demands countless moving parts. There are so many layers: the choice of lenses that shape the look of a scene, the cross-cutting that builds tension, the music that underscores mood, the framing, the costuming. As a writer who one day wants to write for television, I have wondered how everything comes to life, how the concept of make-believe actually materialises, particularly as the concept of place, setting and time is concerned. I mean, what does it take to travel in time on screen, to build or create a setting that situates the present in the past and the past in the present or even create an alternate multiverse where time itself is elastic?
Nollywood set design has become a serious craft. To create a world that reflects the age and texture of a story is no small feat, especially in Nigeria, where historical preservation and archival culture remain underdeveloped. When physical reconstruction is not enough, filmmakers turn to visual effects (VFX) to rebuild what has been lost or to erase what does not belong, and preserve the essence of place.
For example, in Swallow, Kunle Afolayan‘s 2021 film, Oluwatise Oluwajuwon and his team digitally stripped away modern intrusions, new streetlights, renovated rooftops, even internet poles and layered in the textures of the 1980s. A broken television was given a flicker of ancient life, a 90s aeroplane appeared on an empty runway, and the interior of a flight was conjured so characters could inhabit it. These invisible interventions allow viewers to believe in a past they never saw or lived long enough to witness.
This attention to time and place is essential in Nigerian art because it mirrors the way readers and viewers feel about a place. For instance, what readers feel about Nsukka as a place because of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s work, and the recurring debate about whether Ibadan or Lagos should be considered the literary capital of Nigeria. Lagos, cosmopolitan, diverse and vibrant as it is, often loses to Ibadan, which nurtured so many literary giants and still holds a sense of antiquity. As Zenas Ubere writes in his open letter to J.P. Clark, “For most Nigerian cities I’ve lived in, the past does not readily show. With mandates for inhabitants to give a facelift to their houses, buildings are renovated, repainted, and their roofs remade to fit a modern trend. Sometimes, to expand roads, buildings are demolished, denying the city its old face. For these cities, traces of the past can only be found in pockets, at the margins. But Ibadan cares little about looking new. The buildings are old and want you to know it.”
The same nostalgia for time, for the preservation of memory, underpins the work of VFX artists in Nigerian film. As Oluwatise explained, “Being able to tell a story in a time setting and convince people to believe it makes me very happy.” Each project, he noted, requires research into architecture, design, and the smallest details of everyday life. That research becomes its own form of learning, a way of recovering and remaking various aspects of our collective histories.
His path to VFX began long before Nollywood began embracing it. While other children dreamed of becoming doctors, lawyers, or engineers, Oluwatise was captivated by the spectacle of Dragon Ball. The explosions, the fights, the strange effects drew him in. He sketched constantly, telling anyone who asked that he wanted to make effects for film. At the time, few academies in Nigeria could train him, and no viable path to such a career existed. But his persistence carried him into a profession where he now helps shape how Nigerian films visualise history, memory, and even imagined futures.
During his undergraduate years at Lagos State University, where he studied Mass Communication, Oluwatise began experimenting with digital art and colouring, contributing to the creation of Indomitables characters and Macmillan comic books. His early experiments soon expanded into music videos and film, laying the groundwork for a career defined by versatility and innovation.
His first major visual effects credit came in 2011 with “Mother’s Cult” (later retitled “The Great Mothers”), directed by Ernest Obi, which received international recognition. This was followed by “Ida Ofin” and a series of Nollywood productions in Enugu and Asaba, where he honed his skills in compositing, CGI integration, motion tracking, and practical effects. In addition to film, he produced motion design for leading brands. He also served as Art Director at Banky W’s EME during its transition from a record label to a creative agency. Over the years, he has developed long-term collaborations with filmmakers like Kunle Afolayan (on projects such as “Roti,” “The Tribunal,” “The Bridge,” and “Swallow”) and Kemi Adetiba (notably “King of Boys” and its sequel), which have positioned him at the forefront of Nigerian visual storytelling.
When asked about the state of visual design and VFX in Nigerian filmmaking today, Oluwatise admits that the visual effects industry in Nigeria is growing, but it still has some catching up to do. Too often, the demands of VFX are underestimated, with the responsibility handed off to editors who lack the training to execute it well. “One badly done effect, just five seconds, can break the whole film,” Oluwatise said. “So if you’re going to use VFX, budget for it properly, get the right people, and do the right thing.”
He mentioned that VFX is not only about recreating time but also about expanding the imagination of the film itself. It is about blending artistry and technology to bring depth to the telling and retelling of all kinds of stories. For Nigerian cinema, it offers a way to preserve culture, represent histories and push storytelling into new creative frontiers.
