On Filmmakers Day, we celebrate not just the spectacle of cinema, but the soul behind it. Filmmaking, at its best, is an act of listening, to people, to places, to quiet truths often overlooked. Few filmmakers embody this as deeply as Ema Edosio-Deelen.
From her raw, character-driven debut Kasala! to her moving new work When Nigeria Happens, Ema has carved a space for stories that feel intimate yet universal. In this candid conversation, she shares how she navigates the chaos of Lagos, the cost of creativity, and why stillness is the one part of her process she hopes never to lose.
Your films often spotlight the lives of everyday Nigerians. What does a typical day look like for you when you’re immersed in capturing these authentic stories?
A typical day on set for me is deeply collaborative. I don’t see myself as the boss. I see myself as part of a creative team, and every crew member is a key contributor. We’re all painting on the same canvas, trying to tell a story that feels real and rooted in the lives of the people we see around us every day. I spend a lot of time talking to people, actors, crew, even locals on location. I have detailed conversations with my actors about the meaning behind each scene, about their characters’ emotions, their backstories. With my cinematographer, we discuss how to frame each shot in a way that captures truth, not just beauty. I work closely with the costume team to make sure everyone looks like they belong, like they live in this world we’re building. With every scene I am constantly asking: does this feel true? Would someone say this? Would they wear this? Would they walk this way? So the day becomes a series of choices, big and small, all pushing toward one thing: honesty.
In ‘When Nigeria Happens’, you explore the intersection of survival and dreams. How do your daily experiences influence the narratives you choose to tell?
I walk through life with my senses wide open. I’m constantly absorbing, storing conversations, glances, gestures, feelings. I’m a collector of emotions and stories. Sometimes someone says something in passing that I can’t shake for weeks. Or I’ll overhear a conversation in a meeting or at the supermarket that moves me in a way I don’t fully understand yet. These moments stay with me.
When I sit down to write or build a story, I don’t always start with plot. I start with emotion, with something I felt deeply. Then I begin matching it with images or stories I’ve been carrying in my heart. It’s like piecing together a puzzle made up of real-life fragments. My stories often come from things I’m personally wrestling with at the time, fear, hope, joy, longing. And once I know what the emotional center is, I start building outward from there.
You’ve transitioned from working with major networks like the BBC to independent filmmaking. How has this shift impacted your daily creative process?
My years working as a journalist with networks like the BBC and VICE were foundational. That experience trained me to see the world through a documentary lens, to look for the raw, unscripted moments that reveal who people really are. That discipline has never left me. Even now as a narrative filmmaker, I’m still chasing that same rawness.
But working independently has given me a different kind of freedom. I can tell stories the way I want to, with my own voice. I don’t have to follow a network’s structure or format. I can slow down, take risks, and allow scenes to breathe. It’s also taught me to be resourceful. When you don’t have a huge budget, you learn to problem-solve, to think like an artist and an entrepreneur at the same time. That freedom comes with pressure, of course, but it’s also where my most honest work has come from.
Shooting in Lagos presents unique challenges. Can you share a memorable on-set experience that tested your adaptability and what you learned from it?
Filming When Nigeria Happens was one of the most intense experiences I’ve ever had. We were working with a very limited budget, and almost all of our scenes were outdoors in public spaces. That meant dealing with real people, the noise, the crowds, and especially the agberos, the street boys who control different areas.
We had to be smart and nimble. I kept the crew small, and we used compact equipment we could easily carry and set up quickly. What I’ve learned is that Lagos gives you tension and beauty at the same time. You just have to be open to the chaos and trust the story will still come through.
You’ve mentioned that filmmaking can be a ‘jealous’ endeavor. How do you manage personal time and self-care amidst the demands of your projects?
Filmmaking is all-consuming. It takes over your mind, your time, your relationships. For a while, I didn’t know how to step away. But over time, I learned that if I don’t protect my personal space, I burn out,and then I have nothing left to give. One thing that’s helped me is sewing. I taught myself by watching YouTube videos. Now I can spend hours just cutting fabric, measuring, sewing. It’s my quiet zone. The sound of the machine is rhythmic, almost meditative. It allows me to focus on something completely different, something that’s not about storytelling or problem-solving or managing a team.
It’s in those quiet moments that I feel grounded again. I’m reminded that I’m not just a filmmaker. I’m a whole person, and I need space to just be.
What’s a small, seemingly mundane part of your day that actually plays a big role in your creativity?
My faith in Jesus. It grounds everything I do. Running a film company, making creative decisions every day, navigating uncertainty, it can all feel overwhelming. But I’ve learned to take a step back, be still, and talk to God. Sometimes it’s just a short prayer or a moment of quiet reflection. Other times, it’s a full-on conversation where I lay everything down and ask for guidance.
What is a ‘good day’ on set for you? What needs to happen for you to leave feeling fulfilled, even if things didn’t go perfectly?
A good day on set isn’t about how many scenes we shot or how smooth everything went. It’s about the feeling in the room. It’s when the actors connect deeply with their characters and something honest shows up in the performance. It’s when the scene comes alive in a way that moves everyone watching, even if just for a moment. I’ve learned not to chase perfection. Lagos won’t let you anyway. But if, at the end of the day, I feel like we captured something true, something that will stay with the audience long after the credits roll, then that’s a good day.
What’s one scene you’ve shot that you still think about often, not because of how it looked, but how it felt? What was your day like when you captured it?
There’s a scene in When Nigeria Happens where the dancers sit on a bridge, looking over the city. We wanted to shoot in Obalende because of the raw energy and the view, but it was too dangerous. So we shot the actors on a quieter bridge in Abule Egba and used editing to blend it with shots of Obalende. It worked beautifully.
That scene still stays with me. Not because it was technically difficult, but because of what it represented. The actors weren’t just playing roles, hey were being. You could feel their defiance, their hope, their quiet rebellion. It was a reminder of why I make films, to show people who choose to live life on their own terms.
What do you think is misunderstood about filmmakers like you who choose quiet, character-driven stories over big-budget spectacles?
Please, don’t box me in. If I had the budget to do a big spectacle, I would. I love scale. But I also believe in starting with what you have. That’s my philosophy, make great work with the resources you have now, and grow from there.
Right now, I’m in the season of building. I’m focused on creating films that speak deeply and truthfully. I want to build an audience that values that, both in Nigeria and globally. I approach my work like a startup founder, creating MVPs, testing my voice, learning what resonates, and scaling responsibly. For me, this isn’t a hustle. It’s a lifelong commitment. I want to make films that stand the test of time.
If you could preserve one part of your daily process forever — no matter how successful or busy you become — what would it be, and why?
The stillness. I never want to lose that part of my life, the quiet walks, the cycling, the hours spent in small museums or sitting by water. I love wandering through beautiful cities, watching people, imagining their lives. I love eavesdropping on stories and emotions.
That’s where my ideas are born. In the quiet observation of the world. I hope, no matter how busy or successful I become, I never lose the ability to stop, listen, and feel.
Ema Edosio’s work reminds us that filmmaking is both craft and conviction, a daily commitment to telling the truth, even when the tools are limited and the path isn’t easy. Her stories are tender, grounded, and emotionally rich, shaped by stillness, intuition, and deep observation.
At Filmmakers Mart, we’re proud to support filmmakers like Ema, storytellers who lead with intention and create with care. Whether you’re building a world from scratch or capturing real life as it unfolds, you’ll find the tools, services, and support you need on our marketplace.
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