By Douglas Ogbankwa, Esq. | douglasogbankwa@gmail.com
The chasm between Hollywood and Nollywood is as vast as the firmament itself. Interestingly, the moniker “Nollywood” was birthed from the phrase “Not Hollywood,” coined by an American filmmaker who arrived to study the idiosyncratic vagaries of the Nigerian film industry. My own love affair with the silver screen began in the 1980s, an era defined by high-concept storytelling and larger-than-life spectacles.
From the primal terror of Steven Spielberg’s Jaws to the visceral horror of Evil Dead, Hollywood consistently produced masterpieces that redefined our collective imagination. In those days, the cinematic experience was a communal ritual. We flocked to local viewing centers where VHS players—luxury items at the time—whirred to life to broadcast magic for a commercial audience.
The blockbusters of that era were diverse and daring. We witnessed the comedic brilliance of Eddie Murphy and Robin Givens in Boomerang, the enchanting mermaid lore of Splash, and the relentless mechanical dread of Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator. We laughed at the social satire of Trading Places, starring Danny DeVito, as the movie frenzy ushered in an age of unparalleled suspense and intrigue.
This was also the epoch of the “Action Hero.” Sylvester Stallone dominated the zeitgeist; from the underdog grit of Rocky to the explosive intensity of Rambo, Stallone’s choreographed stunts made his filmography a mandatory curriculum for any movie lover.
Simultaneously, a different kind of tension was brewing on screen. Sharon Stone and Madonna were locked in a silent duel for the crown of the “Erotic Thriller.” Stone’s icy performance in Basic Instinct was countered by Madonna’s Body of Evidence, both weaving complex narratives of lust, mortality, and the law. This provocative genre flourished with titles like Friends of the Family, the neon-soaked Sliver, and the hauntingly psychological Eyes Wide Shut, which featured the then-power couple Nicole Kidman and Tom Cruise.
Speaking of Tom Cruise, one cannot overlook the genesis of his iconic spy saga, Mission Impossible. His portrayal of Ethan Hunt remains a global phenomenon today, much like the high-octane thrill of Face/Off, featuring the legendary pairing of Nicolas Cage and John Travolta.
Nicolas Cage further solidified his stardom in The Rock, appearing alongside the incomparable Sean Connery. Connery, of course, was the foundational pillar of the James Bond franchise, debuting as 007 in Dr. No. He paved the way for the suave Roger Moore in Live and Let Die, Timothy Dalton’s gritty turn in The Living Daylights, and Pierce Brosnan’s sophisticated flair in Die Another Day. Eventually, the mantle passed to the first “Blond Bond,” Daniel Craig, who reimagined the character for a modern audience in Casino Royale and Skyfall.
The era was also rich with psychological depth and romantic charm. We marveled at Al Pacino’s devilish charisma in The Devil’s Advocate alongside Keanu Reeves and Charlize Theron. We swooned over the chemistry of Julia Roberts and Richard Gere in Runaway Bride and found joy in the lighthearted beats of The Wedding Planner.
And then, there was the comedy. Who could forget the elastic brilliance of Jim Carrey in The Mask, Liar Liar, Bruce Almighty, and the surreal Truman Show? Or the transformative humor of Martin Lawrence in Big Momma’s House and Eddie Murphy in The Nutty Professor?
Looking back, there was a distinct delight in those years—a magic that existed before the convenience of Netflix or Prime. It was an era of video recorders and shared wonder, a time that remains etched in the celluloid of my memory.
