Thursday, 28th March 2024
To guardian.ng
Search
Breaking News:
Arts  

An icons at the crossroads

By J.K Obatala
17 July 2016   |   3:35 am
The difference, of course, is that Kanayo’s “victims” are imaginary, as are the sinister characters he has played so often — during a prodigious acting career that has seen him casted in nearly 300 movies.
Kanayo. o Kanayo (middle), flanked by Yul Edochie (right) and Ifeanyi Ikechukwu on the set of Blood Against Blood.

Kanayo. o Kanayo (middle), flanked by Yul Edochie (right) and Ifeanyi Ikechukwu on the set of Blood Against Blood.

The lobby of Port Harcourt’s Meridien Hotel, with its richly hued oil paintings, placid waterfall and totemic woodcarvings, is an unlikely setting for an occult encounter.

Yet that, in a sense, is what happened, early on the morning of June 12 – after curtains fell on the African Movie Academy Awards (AMAA) ceremony.

Plodding eerily unnoticed, over Meridien’s polished marble floors, was Nigeria’s most high-profile devotee of Satanism and magic: A familiar figment, from every movie-watchers imagination.

Kanayo O. Kanayo’s fiendish screen persona, his contrived penchant for casting spells, conducting rituals and sacrificing people for material gain, would be the envy of any evil forest practitioner.

The difference, of course, is that Kanayo’s “victims” are imaginary, as are the sinister characters he has played so often — during a prodigious acting career that has seen him casted in nearly 300 movies.

“Casting,“ he insists, “is what film is all about. It’s not about ‘Juju’ or ‘ritual’. It’s the director’s preference. I’ve played many other kinds of characters.

“But it so happened,” he continues, “that, at the time, there was a preponderance of those kinds of movies—and the directors always came for me.”

Kanayo and I were conversing under the portico, between the driveway and two sliding plate glass doors: Mainly about seminal changes his career and the future he envisages for the film industry.

We had retreated there, to escape the noise and distractions of the hotel lobby and the adjoining “Ororo” restaurant, where actors and AMAA functionaries, ambled about and chatted at tables.

Kanayo had been among them. In fact, I had brushed pass him several times, in the lobby, without recognition—thanks to his low-keyed and unassuming carriage.

At around 2:00 a.m., Ayuko Babu, a member of AMAA’s panel of judges, from California facilitated the link for the long, stand-up interview.

Attired in white brocade, and the red hat of a respected son of Oboama, in Ezinihitte Mbaise Local Government Area, Imo State, Kanayo’s voice was crisp, and his eyes alert—despite the early hour.

He attributes his occult screen image to “market factors,” which influence the role a director will assign to a particular actor. Dealers in the market where his film are sold, he avers, “would always say they wanted film in which I appeared, in certain roles”.

In reality though, Kanayo’s personal lifestyle belies his screen image. Far from being a sinister operator, obsessed with mysticism and ritual, he is actually a devout Catholic and a philanthropist.

His start to stardom and wealth came, not from Juju, but from digging pit latrines in the village and, later, selling soup materials to NTA staff, in Lagos.

Now a father of four, Kanayo grew up in Enugu, under the tutelage of his senior brother; and that is where the thespian bug bit.

“After leaving secondary school,” he recalls, “I started looking for a job…I would go to NTA, in Enugu—looking for something to do. They’d ask me to read for a role…. ‘Yeah, you did well!’ they’d say.

“That’s it. That’s how it started. Suddenly, I wasn‘t looking for a job again. This was around 1983 or ’84”.

Kanayo apparently played bit-parts in local television productions, in ’85, ’86 and ‘87. But he dates his professional acting career to 1992, when “Living
In Bondage” gave him a mass audience.

In the years that followed, Kanayo reaped abundant material and emotional returns on his ample talents. Indeed, he is, according to some sources, one of the ten wealthiest actors in the industry.

Kanayo harbours an enviable trove of Acting Awards and Special Honours, including Member of the Order of the Federal Republic (MFR). AMAA crowned him ”Best Actor,” at its second ceremony, in 2006.

My request for other commendations, drew a succession of eight texts, detailing an array of awards and honours, ranging from the “Hollywood Award of Excellence” to the “Top Ten Nigerian Movie Stars”.

AMMA, Kanayo believes, has been a good awards system, “even though there are a whole lot of things, still not in place”.

His greatest wish is for a permanent sponsor, so the Annual Awards Ceremony won’t be running from pillar to post.

“I want us to have a night of entertainment, without the kind of sabotage that happened this evening [referring to a power outage]. We need to condition Nigerians, to see AMAA as their own”.

At the same time though, he has some frank advice for the organizer, Peace Anyiam Osigwe, whom he urges to “get your act together”.

She should, if necessary, he counsels, change her working team—except the jury which, in his view, has performed superbly.

He is especially concerned about protocol: “You come down from the car, nobody ushers you to the red carpet and you walk straight to the hall. Nobody escorts you.

“It shouldn’t be like that. These are things that can’t happen in our world. Then, before you leave home, you should know the hotel where you’ll be staying…and whether you’re presenting an award”.

Nowadays, Kanayo spends much of his time, plowing accumulated resources back into society, giving in return for what he has received.

He finds philanthropy and social work fulfilling. And has just launched a new youth development initiative, whose anchoring institution is the “Kanayo O. Kanayo Mentoring Academy”.

Its target, he says, are secondary school pupils, because “they have not formed their real characters yet. So a lot of them can still change… Still see you as a role model—and do what you want them to do…”

Yet the actor emphasizes, that while his Academy has an office in Lagos, there won’t be a physical structure, where one can go to attend lectures—at least not for the time being.

Instead, Kanayo and his counselors will visit different parts of Nigeria, talking to youth who have interest in entertainment, the arts, science, etc. and various other aspects of life.

“The idea,” he explains, “is to provide direction… The carpenter works hard, for example…But a bank director works smart…i.e., with direction. That’s one reason, why the bank director makes more money!

“If you work hard and you have no direction, you don’t make much money! So we’re trying to provide direction, through mentoring”.

He intends to continue acting, to make a positive impact on Nigerian youth, reasoning that: “The more I’m seen, the more the youth I’m talking to, will accept and believe me”.

Even so, we might well see less of him on screen, Kanayo concedes, because of stagnation within the film industry, which is currently in the doldrums, creatively and professionally.

Creatively, he thinks the movie industry should be turning out more futuristic and socially relevant stories.

Says he, “I’ve been in the industry since 1992, with “Living In Bondage”. And I’m seeing the same thing, the same stories—just a rehash of what we have been doing.

“The industry must leave where it is now. It needs a new life. Practitioners should begin to see themselves as something more than businessmen.

“They must be agents of change, who care about national development. They should care about social relevance and show concern for national security, through film.

“Our films have to become futuristic. We ought to tell our stories from a futuristic perspective. That’s the way the industry should be going”.

It’s been a long time, Kanayo laments, since a production was released in Nigeria, and people could ask, “Have you seen that movie?”

He yearns for such movies again: “Movies that will remind us of who we are—not about what they do in Hollywood. Nigeria has a rich culture. We should build on it”.

Script writing, in particular, is in a bad way. So he rejects a lot of the stories that come to him which, he says, suffer from a lack of depth and craftsmanship.

“We need more in-depth writing—better scripting. Not just what I did ten years ago, and somebody brings it back and asks me to do it now. That’s what I’m trying to run away from.

“I used to see people who could write professional scripts. People used to hold script workshops. I’ve seen writers compose screenplays—and re-write again, again and again, until they got something good.

“But I don’t see that again. We need to go back to the basics. We need professional script writers—those who earn their living, from script-writing alone”.

According to Kanayo, less than 10 percent of scriptwriters are professionals. Some stories are processed within families, where husband and wife put their idea on paper, and then call in actors.

He notes, as well, that there are not up to five truly professional directors of photography—whose ranks are hardly overflowing, even in Hollywood.

“But here, somebody trains as a cameraman for six months, and he writes ‘director of photography’! That’s an insult to the trade! In order to bear that title, you must get trained to a particular level…”

The film industry cannot progress like that, he complains. It must get back to basics. The industry ought to be structured, with protocols and professional standards that will make it competitive.

“We should stop seeing the film industry as a training thing,” he urges. “Because what happens, is that we’re not building a base that can sustain movie making in Nigeria over the long haul”.

Among other reforms he proposes, is a level of specialisation, in which practitioners earn their living in specific areas of the trade—writing, production management, directing and so on.

“The thing I’ve found, is this: Directing has become a status symbol. People just want to say, ‘I’m a director’. Not gaining experience. Not learning the ropes…

“A person doesn’t need to cross over to producer and from producer to director. I’m not saying no one should ever cross over.

“But there must be specialisation. Let an actor feed through his acting. Let a script writer feed through his scrip writing”.

Actors, directors, set designers, etc. don’t have to come from university drama departments, if they’re gifted. But that’s an added advantage, Kanayo advises, because it makes for professionalism.

Illustrating his point, about specialisation, he cites a situation where a very good storyteller may not be a good screenplay person. So the writer must look for a professional screenplay specialist, to do it.

“In short, the Nigerian film industry should no longer accommodate ‘jacks-of-all-trades’. People must adopt to their areas of strength. That’s exactly what I’m preaching…

“So, if I stay off-screen until a good story comes along, it’s for the better. It’s in the interest of the industry. I don’t have to appear as often as I did 10 to 15 years ago.”

Meanwhile, Kanayo wishes a political plague on the houses of those perpetuating what he calls the “New Nollywood vs. Old Nollywood divide”—castigating it as “another brand of witchcraft”.

In fact, he shrugs the issue off, as “the concern of those who’re looking for relevance…people who watched us as kids, in secondary school…

“A director that has just made a name, about six or seven years ago, will only call his friends, among the new generation of actors. We say, ‘No,’ to that!”

At 54, Kanayo is in professional metamorphosis. As the tempo of his prolific acting career slows, he is searching for “alternative strengths”.

Looking beyond the silver screen, the veteran of 30-odd years (dating from Enugu) is currently a 300 level law student at the University of Abuja, and plans to focus on intellectual property rights.

He enjoys law school and hopes soon to be cast as a film industry protagonist, in a new professional setting, “where there’s great opportunity”.

His sights are also set on the National Assembly, where he hopes to land a role in 2019. The old-timer is convinced, that the movie industry needs people like him in the policy organs, of government.

“If you have people who speak for the industry in the National Assembly,” he contends, “we will begin to influence government. We can then dictate the pace of our industry’s growth.

“But if we leave it to those in power to speak for us, things will never get better—because they don’t share our interests or understanding”.

The movies that come most readily to mind, when he is looking back over his acting career, are “Lost Kingdom” and “Fire On The Mountain”.

“Lost Kingdom” stands out, because he considers it “a good reminder of how Nigerian society is today—and how we can change it.

“It is a microcosm, which traces the cycle of corruption from its roots, to the fruit it ultimately bears. The message is that we need leaders, whose background we know. We must know their pedigree.

“Somebody who has been stealing in his village, cannot come and start making laws for you”.

“Fire On The Mountain” strikes a responsive chord in Kanayo, because it’s an entertaining comedy that is also clean and morally wholesome.

“I did it with Patience Ozokwor,” he recalls. “Even the census board rated it very high, because there was no violence”.

Suddenly, the portico is dark. And the obtrusive growl of the Meridien’s generator sends us tramping across the marble floor, pass the cascading water and the tall, totemic sculptures.

Most of the actors and AMAA officials have either left the hotel or retired to their rooms; and the “Ororo” restaurant is now empty, except for two or three stragglers.

Glancing at his watch, Kanayo declines to sit. Catching the hint, I pose one last question: How did he become “Kanayo O. Kanayo“?

“Very good!,” he chimes. He was born “Anayo,” with “Modestus” as an English cognomen. “But I never met an Englishman bearing an Igbo name. So I called myself ‘Kanayo Onyekwere’”.

Though from Imo, his acting career started in Enugu State. So a lot of people kept “bastardizing” his name, he says.

In Enugu, they called him “Kanayo,” instead of “Anayo”…Enugu indigenes also found it difficult to pronounce “Onyekwere,” while to scions Anambra, he was “Onyekwelo”.

“Then, one day somebody said, ‘It is better we call you, ‘Kanayo O. Kanayo’!”

With that, the actor turned and strode away, his white brocade and red hat vanishing quickly into the pre-dawn stillness—much like a character, from one of his movies.

0 Comments