‘I’m Always Scared Whenever Funke Akindele Calls Me for a Job’: Veteran Actor Jide Kosoko on Her Demanding Perfectionism

There is one phone call that still makes veteran Nollywood actor Jide Kosoko nervous. At 72, with a career spanning both Yoruba-language cinema and English-language Nollywood, Kosoko has worked alongside generations of filmmakers — yet he has now confessed that he is “always scared” whenever actress and filmmaker Funke Akindele rings him with an acting job. The reason, he explained in an interview on the African A-List podcast reported between October 18 and 19, 2026, is that Akindele is a perfectionist of the highest order, and on her sets a single scene can be filmed as many as 15 times before she is satisfied.

His words were blunt and memorable. “Whenever Funke calls me for a job, I am always scared; you can shoot a scene 15 times,” Kosoko disclosed during the podcast conversation. For a performer of his experience to speak so candidly about dreading anyone’s directing style is remarkable — and it hands Nollywood fans a rare, unfiltered look at the discipline powering one of the industry’s biggest filmmaking operations.

The Plates That Had to Be Filmed Again

Kosoko went on to describe the kind of detail-obsessed decision-making that defines Akindele’s directing. According to him, she can arrive on set the next morning with a fresh plan for the day’s work, only to stop everything and order a complete do-over of a scene finished the day before — all because of something as minor as the plates used in the shot. “She may come the following day thinking of shooting another scene, but then she will say ‘We have to shoot those scenes again because of the plates they brought,’” he recounted.

It is the sort of anecdote that sounds almost comic until you weigh what it reveals about craft. Plates on a table are background props; the vast majority of viewers would never notice if they changed between shots. But to a director chasing a flawless final product, a continuity slip — even one buried in the background — is reason enough to discard a finished scene and begin again. Kosoko’s story captures that mindset in a single vivid moment, and it explains why a shoot under Akindele can feel less like an ordinary job and more like an endurance test.

The anecdote also hints at how closely Akindele watches her own productions. A director who spots the wrong plates in yesterday’s footage is a director reviewing every frame with forensic attention — the kind of vigilance that leaves nothing, however small, to chance. For actors, that means no take is ever truly safe until the director says so.

In a lighter moment during the conversation, Kosoko also noted that Akindele is left-handed — a small, humanising detail sitting charmingly alongside his portrait of an on-set taskmaster.

“Even If You Are a Man, You Can’t Match Her Energy”

What makes Kosoko’s interview so compelling is that it is not a complaint. He is quick to stress that while working with Akindele can leave an actor drained, the experience is rooted in something he genuinely admires: an extraordinary, almost relentless work ethic. “Funke is very hardworking; even if you are a man, you can’t match her energy,” he said.

It is high praise, and it carries special weight coming from a 72-year-old who has shared sets with directors across different eras of the industry. In a business where punishing schedules and marathon shooting days are simply part of the job, Kosoko is effectively saying that Akindele operates on another level of stamina and commitment altogether — a level that can wear out those around her but that he clearly respects. The admiration shines through the exhaustion: this is a veteran tipping his hat to a colleague whose standards he finds both intimidating and inspiring.

Kosoko’s account also pulls back the curtain on the machinery behind Akindele’s productions — the discipline, the repeated takes, the flat refusal to settle for “good enough.” His description suggests that the polish audiences admire on screen is no accident at all; it is the direct product of a director willing to demand more from her cast and crew than almost anyone else would dare to ask.

The Veteran Behind the Words

To grasp why Kosoko’s confession has resonated so widely, it helps to appreciate who he is. The 72-year-old is one of Nollywood’s most respected veterans, a performer whose work has cut across both Yoruba-language cinema and English-language productions. He has collaborated with filmmakers from different generations and has remained a familiar, commanding screen presence through the industry’s long transformation into the modern, cinema-driven Nollywood audiences know today.

In Nollywood, figures like Kosoko are more than just actors; they are living archives of the industry, custodians of its history and mentors to younger talent by example. When someone with that breadth of experience openly says a director’s standards frighten him, the whole industry pays attention. His words function as both a warning to newcomers and an endorsement of Akindele’s methods: if even Jide Kosoko feels the pressure, her sets must be something truly special.

Kosoko speaks from first-hand experience, too. The veteran has featured in Akindele’s Jenifa productions — the comedy franchise built around her most famous character — which means his portrait of her methods comes from having stood on those sets, performed those multiple takes and lived through the very reshoots he describes. This is not gossip or speculation; it is testimony from inside the room.

The Box-Office Queen and the Price of Polish

Funke Akindele herself needs little introduction to Nigerian audiences. As an actress and filmmaker, she has grown into one of Nollywood’s most commercially successful filmmakers, with her productions recording major successes at the Nigerian box office. The Jenifa franchise — the comedy series built around Akindele’s best-known character — has become one of the most recognisable brands in Nigerian entertainment, and film after film, her releases have drawn massive audiences and dominated industry conversation.

Kosoko’s interview offers a compelling explanation for that consistency: the polish the public admires is manufactured on set, take after painstaking take. When a director is prepared to reshoot a completed scene over the plates on a table, the chances of sloppy continuity, careless framing or half-hearted performances surviving into the final cut shrink dramatically. Akindele’s reshoot culture — gruelling for actors, costly in time and resources — functions, in effect, as a ruthless quality-control system. And the box-office returns suggest it works.

It also helps explain why her films tend to look and feel a cut above the rest. In an industry sometimes criticised for rushing productions from set to screen, Akindele’s insistence on near-perfection — filming scenes 15 times, revisiting finished work, obsessing over the smallest background details — sets a standard few others even attempt. The result is a body of work with a recognisable sheen: productions that feel crafted rather than merely completed, and that reward audiences with an experience worth the price of a cinema ticket.

What Reshoot Culture Really Means for Actors

There is, of course, a human cost to perfectionism, and Kosoko does not pretend otherwise. Repeated takes are physically and emotionally draining: a performer must summon the same energy, the same comic timing, the same emotional truth on the fifteenth take as on the first, all while knowing the director may still call for one more. Reshoots of scenes believed to be finished can test even the most seasoned professionals, especially those who trust their instincts and pride themselves on nailing a performance early.

Yet there is a reason the most celebrated directors in cinema history have shared this trait, and Kosoko’s praise points straight at it: demanding directors frequently draw out performances actors did not know they were capable of. The fifteenth take can be the one where something unexpected ignites — a sharper comic beat, a truer emotional note, a moment of spontaneity that no rehearsal could have planned. For younger actors sharing a set with veterans like Kosoko, surviving an Akindele production becomes a badge of honour in itself: proof they have been forged in one of Nollywood’s toughest creative furnaces.

That dynamic may be precisely why Akindele keeps calling Kosoko back. A director who films a scene 15 times needs performers with the stamina, skill and professionalism to deliver on demand, take after take — qualities a 72-year-old veteran possesses in abundance. The fear Kosoko describes is not the anxiety of a novice; it is the healthy respect of a master craftsman for a director who will accept nothing less than his absolute best, every single time.

A Glimpse Behind the Curtain

In the end, Kosoko’s interview achieves something rare: it lets audiences see the machinery behind the magic. The laughter, the drama, the box-office triumphs — all of it, according to one of Nollywood’s most respected veterans, is built on long days, endless takes and a filmmaker willing to halt a production over the plates on a table. It is exhausting. It is demanding. And, if the results on screen are anything to go by, it is worth every reshoot.

For fans of Funke Akindele, the revelation only burnishes her legend: the perfectionist whose standards frighten even the veterans. For Nollywood as a whole, it is a timely reminder that the industry’s greatest successes are seldom accidents — they are earned, one demanding take at a time.

Source: Tribune Online, PM News, The Nation