Kannywood Filmmakers Speak Out: Between Art, Religion, And Regulation -By Maryam Mustapha Bukar

For over two decades, Kannywood — the Hausa-language film industry based in Kano — has been the cultural heartbeat of Northern Nigeria. Its movies, rich in language, tradition, and moral lessons, have entertained millions across West Africa and beyond. But behind the glamour and fame lies a growing tension between filmmakers and the Kano State Film and Video Censorship Board, an institution many in the industry now see as both a protector and a barrier.

Since its establishment, the Censorship Board has played a critical role in shaping Kannywood’s identity. Every film produced in Kano must first be approved by the board before it can be distributed or screened publicly. Officials argue that this ensures films reflect Islamic values and do not promote indecent behavior. But as filmmakers experiment with modern themes — love, politics, youth struggles, and social media — the clash between artistic freedom and religious regulation has become increasingly visible.

Filmmakers like Ali Nuhu, often referred to as the “King of Kannywood,” have repeatedly emphasized the need for balance. “We all respect our culture and religion,” he once said in an interview, “but film is also a form of education and self-expression. The Censorship Board should not kill creativity in the name of morality.” This sentiment echoes across the industry, where many producers feel restricted by what they describe as “unpredictable censorship decisions” that limit storytelling.

Over the years, several Kannywood actors and producers have faced suspension, fines, or bans for alleged violations of the board’s rules. Some were accused of “immoral behavior” off-screen — such as sharing dance videos on social media — while others were sanctioned for producing films that touched on sensitive topics like romance, gender roles, or politics. These actions, though meant to preserve moral standards, have created fear and uncertainty within the industry.

The introduction of digital platforms has only intensified the conflict. Many Kannywood stars now upload their films and skits directly to YouTube and TikTok to reach global audiences. But with the Censorship Board extending its oversight to online content, filmmakers are again caught in a web of regulation. “We are not against guidelines,” says Fatima Muhammad, a young actress and producer, “but the process is too rigid. The board needs to understand how the film world has changed.”

Supporters of the Censorship Board insist that its presence is essential in a conservative society like Kano. They argue that without regulation, foreign and secular influences could dominate local media, eroding Islamic and cultural values. “The board is not an enemy of art,” says Sani Maikudi, a religious scholar in Kano. “It is a guide. Our filmmakers should see it as a partner that helps them create content that benefits society, not corrupts it.”

Still, critics maintain that Kannywood’s creative potential is being limited by excessive control. Some producers have relocated film projects to neighboring states like Kaduna, Katsina, or Abuja, where they enjoy greater artistic freedom. This migration, insiders say, is weakening Kano’s long-standing position as the center of Hausa-language cinema. “We love Kano,” notes Hassan Giggs, a filmmaker. “But when your stories are constantly cut, edited, or banned, you lose the motivation to produce.”

To address the growing friction, stakeholders have called for dialogue between the board and the film community. Workshops and forums have been proposed to discuss script standards, modest costume choices, and acceptable themes. By building mutual understanding, they argue, the state can uphold its moral values while allowing filmmakers to express themselves responsibly. Media experts also recommend reforming the censorship process to make it more transparent, fair, and reflective of modern realities.

At the heart of the debate lies a generational divide. The older generation sees cinema as a moral tool that should strictly reinforce Islamic teachings, while the younger generation views it as an avenue for social change, education, and empowerment. Both sides agree on one thing — Kannywood has a powerful influence over millions of viewers. The question is how best to use that influence in a way that uplifts society without suppressing creativity.

As Kano continues to balance faith and film, the future of Kannywood depends on finding common ground between tradition and expression. The filmmakers want freedom; the state demands responsibility. And somewhere between these two forces lies the hope that Northern Nigeria’s most dynamic cultural industry can keep its light shining — not just within Kano’s city walls, but across the entire Hausa-speaking world.

Maryam Mustapha Bukar is a 300 level student from Kashim Ibrahim University (Formerly Borno State University, Maiduguri)