Akinola Davies Jr: ‘I was never too good to turn my nose up at an opportunity’

Akinola Davies Jr: ‘I was never too good to turn my nose up at an opportunity’

From London clubs to Cannes film festival, Akinola Davies Jr is finding success in collaboration. He tells us about his latest multifaceted project


Film-maker Akinola Davies Jr, 40, was born in Hammersmith to Nigerian parents before moving to Lagos aged three. He returned to the UK to attend secondary school in Kent and university in Brighton, before taking a course at the New York Film Academy. He later directed campaign films for Gucci and Louis Vuitton, and his short film Lizard won the Grand Jury prize at Sundance in 2021. At Cannes earlier this year, Davies’ semi-autobiographical debut feature, My Father’s Shadow, won the special mention for the Caméra d’Or; it was the first Nigerian film to be included in the festival’s Official Selection. Tomorrow evening at Somerset House, he’s presenting a screening of his film series rituals: unionblack with live music from Sampha, Moses Boyd and others.


Congratulations on your Cannes triumph, has it sunk in yet?

I think so. The hype around the project is larger than I anticipated but I believe my film is really good so I’m proud it can be acknowledged on that stage. But it’s back to reality now and trying not to get too caught up in that success.

Your older brother, Wale, wrote the screenplay for My Father’s Shadow. What was it like working with a sibling?

The film is about two kid brothers who get to spend the gift of a day in Lagos with their father, seeing the ups and downs he has to encounter while trying to be paid his wages on the day of the 1993 election results. It’s not the easiest to work with a sibling because ultimately you need a very clear delineation of everyone’s role and you have to be very forthright and open, but I think we tread that balance very well.

Given its semi-autobiographical nature, did working with your brother add an extra dimension?

I would say so, because it was also about us trying to understand and mine a bunch of emotions on what it means to be men in an African context, and grieve a relationship that we never really had [Davies’s father died when he was 20 months old].

How do you divide the roles?

Usually we go away for 10 days to a really secluded holiday destination. For My Father’s Shadow we went to rural Ghana to write and then Jamaica. We spend the first few days watching references or talking over ideas or themes and just settling with each other’s rhythms. Then Wale writes, and I’m in the room mulling over images. If we enjoy reading it as a short story or novel we know we’re on the right track, and then we break it down into script format.

Which references proved useful?

Directors such as Ousmane Sembène and [Hirokazu] Kore-eda; films like Roma, Bicycle Thieves and Shoplifters.

What’s so exciting about shooting in Lagos and Nigeria?

The frequency of Lagos is unique: it can be very calm but it can become chaotic very quickly. There’s a lot of texture, a lot of smoke in the air, which brings depth to the image. And Nigerians are fascinating people because they really perform on camera, either just being themselves or being asked to do something more heightened.

Do you have any recent ‘Nollywood’ standouts?

Lionheart is one of my favourites, from Genevieve Nnaji – she’s one of my favourite actors in general. I would say I’m more into the arthouse version of Nollywood, so Eyimofe (This Is My Desire) and All the Colours of the World Are Between Black and White.

For Somerset House’s 25th birthday, you’re presenting a musical screening of your newly commissioned film series, rituals: unionblack. What can audiences expect?

There are two parts. rituals: unionblack was conceived with the BBC as an ethnographic series. I’m not focusing on black trauma or black excellence; just on day-to-day affirmations, be it baking bread in the oldest black bakery in Manchester, a free home birth being guided by a black doula network, or young Muslims breaking fast in Croydon. The films are scored by some of my favourite composers: Duval Timothy, Kokoroko, Klein, Moses Boyd, Mansur Brown. For Somerset House’s Summer Series, we’re screening these films in the courtyard with a different electronic ensemble who will perform a live, somewhat improvised score. We’re also working with artists like Chris Ofili and Larry Achiampong, and a drumming Nyabinghi group, so we’re really trying to use the courtyard in a way it maybe hasn’t been used before.

What’s it been like orchestrating it all?

It’s been tougher than I anticipated but the difficult things make you learn the most.

Speaking of music, you used to DJ under the alias Crackstevens and run PDA, a successful club night that you co-founded with Mischa Notcutt and Ms Carrie Stacks. Do you miss it?

I miss the people and the relationships. PDA and that conglomerate of people could only really exist in that period of time, and it’s great to see where everyone is now. [Singer] Shygirl used to work the door; Mischa runs one of the most successful casting agencies in fashion; Carrie is an ambassador for the Telfar fashion brand. You had people like IB Kamara [editor in chief of Dazed], [the DJ] Venus X and [the Venezuelan musician and producer] Arca frequenting the parties. So yeah, PDA was a ride, for sure.

You worked as a runner before deciding you wanted to make things yourself. Given the current precarious state of TV and film, what advice would you give to someone trying to enter the industry?

I would say that in every opportunity, people need to try to exploit their privilege. That might sound a bit crazy but if you can live with your parents, live with your parents. The only thing stopping you from doing that is yourself and the outside optics. You also have to leverage every relationship – so I tried to model, I tried to be in casts, I worked in production design, I helped [Bafta-winning costume designer] PC Williams in costume departments. I was never too good to turn my nose up at an opportunity.


Newsletters
Sign up to hear the latest from The Observer

For information about how The Observer protects your data, read our Privacy Policy.


Photograph by Antonio Olmos for the Observer




Share this article