Actor and the recent winner of the Africa Magic Viewer’s Choice Award for Best Lead Actor, Uzor Arukwe, speaks with FAITH AJAYI about his career in the movie industry, recognition and other issues
What went through your mind when your name was announced as the winner of the AMVCA Best Lead Actor?
It was really indescribable. The first thing I felt was stillness. That probably sounds strange given the AMVCA setting and atmosphere. The hall was filled, there were cameras everywhere, and there was noise. But in those infinite seconds when my name was announced, everything became very quiet.
The moment felt too large for an immediate emotional response, and my mind needed a fraction of a second to catch up with what had just happened. But when it finally sank in and I had to walk to the stage, I was transported back to a period of uncertainty early in my career.
That memory arrived uninvited and completely took over for a moment. That was the look on my face when I stood on stage with my manager, team, and industry friends. What I felt most deeply, and what I carry most consciously from that moment, is responsibility. Gratitude is easy to feel and important to express. But responsibility; that’s the part I’m most focused on now.
Do you see the win as validation of your journey over the years?
There is undeniably a validating dimension to it. After working in the industry for so long, you begin to approach your craft with a certain level of deliberateness. I hold myself to very high standards. So, when the industry turns around and crowns your effort, it validates both your private and public sacrifices.
Winning the AMVCA isn’t minor because it represents the judgment of peers and industry professionals who understand what the work costs, and that kind of recognition carries a weight that public applause alone doesn’t.
This win belongs to the continued journey of telling excellent stories because, truly, the journey has only just begun.
In what ways do you think this recognition will shape the kinds of roles, opportunities, and expectations that will come your way moving forward?
The immediate effect is that the conversation changes. Not just in terms of what comes to me, but also in terms of what I can initiate. There is a certain level of access that recognition like this unlocks. The AMVCA win becomes a kind of shorthand that opens doors faster.
In terms of roles, I expect — and frankly, I will be pushing for — material that matches the moment. Not in an entitled sense, but because this is the right time to have honest conversations with filmmakers and producers about the kind of work I want, and what I believe the industry should be creating.
The award confers legitimacy, making those conversations easier to begin and harder to dismiss. If there were projects where my involvement was being considered cautiously before, that caution would now matter less.
However, the global dimension is the one I find most interesting. Nollywood’s expansion is real, but it is still fragile in some respects. Its international growth still depends on a relatively small number of projects that carry a disproportionate share of the industry’s global reputation. What recognition like this does, collectively, is strengthen the argument that Nigerian cinema has depth of talent across board.
As for expectations, I welcome them. Expectations mean people are paying attention. The work now is to ensure that attention is consistently rewarded with something worthy of it. That’s not pressure in a destabilising sense.
Beyond the glamour of the award, what does this win personally mean to you?
It means that the quiet decisions were right. That’s really what it comes down to when I strip everything else away. Not the public decisions; the roles people saw, the performances that were discussed and debated. I mean the decisions nobody witnessed.
The projects I walked away from when doing so was financially painful. The standards I held myself to when lowering them would have been easier and largely undetectable. The periods of stillness I endured without allowing panic to push me into choices I would later regret. Those decisions were made in private, sustained in private, and doubted in private. This win is the first time they have been acknowledged publicly, even if no one in that room knew exactly what they were applauding.
The sacrifices are real, and they belong to more people than just me. There are people in my life who absorbed the cost of this career alongside me. People who gave patience when I had little to offer in return; those who maintained belief when mine was running low, and who never made me feel that the unconventional path I chose was a burden to them, even when it was. This moment belongs to them in a way no acceptance speech can fully capture.
In a previous interview, you spoke about becoming more intentional with your life and career. Was there a defining moment or experience that triggered that shift for you?
There wasn’t one singular moment but rather an accumulation of important moments. But, if I had to point to something, it would be the period when I looked up and realised I had been reactive for a long time; saying yes because the opportunity existed, not necessarily because it aligned with where I was trying to go.
For an actor, that can be a quiet kind of danger because you’re still working, the roles are coming, and from the outside, everything appears fine. But internally, you know when you’re coasting.
There came a point when I had to sit with some uncomfortable questions. I asked myself what kinds of stories I wanted to tell and be part of. I started thinking about legacy too; not in a grandiose sense, but simply asking: when people look at my body of work, what will they see? Will they see an actor who was present and deliberate, or someone who was simply available for every role?
That reflection eventually led me to being the executive producer of a horror film, ‘Alive Till Dawn’.
Ultimately, that introspection changed how I approach everything, including the projects I commit to, the conversations I have with directors and producers, and even how I prepare for and interpret roles, regardless of how stereotypical they may appear. My manager, Mautin Tairu, often says, “We need to be intentional.” Over the years, that phrase has guided the way I move in my career and artistry.
You have also emphasised discipline and consistency as key to your growth. Looking back, what specific habits or mindsets did you have to unlearn to become this more focused version of yourself?
Unlearning is actually harder because the things you need to shed are often the things that got you somewhere in the first place.
I am considered one of the busiest actors in the country, and my portfolio reflects that. But one of the biggest things I had to unlearn was equating being busy with progress. Early in my career, being busy felt like validation. A packed schedule meant you were relevant and in demand. But being busy without direction is just noise.
I had to learn how to sit with stillness without interpreting it as failure. That shift has contributed to the progress I have made in the last two years. I have secured ambassadorial deals, was invited by Netflix as the only Nigerian actor to the premiere of the movie, ‘Beverly Hills Cop’.
The mindset shift that tied all this together was moving from survival thinking to architectural thinking; building something intentional, brick by brick, rather than simply reacting to whatever the moment demanded. That didn’t happen overnight. It came through focused reflection and conversations with my management team.
There is a perceptible confidence with which you deliver your roles. Did that come more from your wins or from navigating difficult moments behind the scenes?
The difficult moments were the defining ones. The wins are wonderful, affirming, and they open doors. But they don’t build the quiet, uncompromising confidence you’re referring to.
After leaving my corporate job to pursue acting, there were countless periods when things didn’t go according to plan. There were career-defining roles and projects I didn’t get. There were moments of doubt and uncertainty.
It was during those periods —when external affirmation disappeared— that I truly discovered what I was made of. The calm people see now is the product of having gone through enough to know I can survive disappointment, and that rejection is not a verdict. The industry’s timing and your own readiness are two different things, and managing the gap between them is part of the craft.
Has increased visibility made you more self-aware, or more cautious about how much of yourself you share?
It’s a mixture of both, honestly. And I think the two are more connected than they appear.
Visibility does something interesting to you that people rarely talk about. When more people are paying attention, you inevitably start paying more attention to yourself too. You begin to notice how you’re perceived, sometimes in ways that don’t align with how you see yourself, and that gap becomes educational. So yes, visibility has deepened my self-awareness.
At the same time, it has also made me more protective. I am not interested in performing a version of myself for public consumption. I have come to understand that not everything true about you needs to be public. The parts of me that are still forming, still tender and still being worked on deserve privacy. They deserve room to exist without the weight of an audience.
There are some things you share when they’re complete. Some things you share while they’re still happening. And some things you simply keep to yourself.
At a point, it seemed you were being stereotyped with the types of roles you were offered. Do you feel the industry is fully exploring your depth as an actor, or are there still parts of your talent that remain untapped?
As an actor, there is always more to explore. And I say that not as a complaint, but as a statement of fact; perhaps even an invitation to filmmakers.
The industry has been generous to me in many ways. I have had the opportunity to move across roles that make people laugh, provoke reflection, and explore emotional and moral complexity. I am grateful for that, and I’ve worked hard to demonstrate that range. But range and depth are not the same thing. You can cast an actor in multiple genres and still only scratch the surface of what they are capable of.
There are territories I haven’t reached yet; characters that exist in genuine moral ambiguity, not traditional villains, but people whose contradictions are the point. I am interested in slowness, silence, and the kind of storytelling where what’s left unsaid carries as much weight as the dialogue.
I also think there’s a version of me that would thrive with quieter, more intimate stories; not loud, high-concept productions, but something stripped down and raw. I would welcome that conversation with the right filmmaker.
So yes, the industry has explored me, but I believe the most interesting chapters are still ahead. And that’s a good place to be.
Read the full article here
