Nemsia Studios: Unveiling the Enigma Behind After 30's Muted Reception

By Ayotunde Kalio

It says something about the times — and maybe about us — that a beautifully made film like After 30 could be released into rejection – or… muted confusion.

The film, released through BB Sasore’s Nemsia Studios earlier this year, is easily one of the most technically accomplished Nigerian films of the past twelve months. Quiet, aching, emotionally intelligent — it does everything a mature film should do. And yet, for the first time in Sasore career, the reception has felt icy. Or worse: indifferent.

Which raises the question — not about the film, but about the frame.

The Studio That Built A Lane

Nemsia’s Star director, BB Sasore who is the creative center of the studio along with his partner has built a production house that has — for almost a decade now — operated on its own frequency. From the breakout success of God Calling. Their work has always occupied the space between the spiritual and the spectacular.

In an industry where filmmakers often get boxed into either “market” or “art,” they found the rare third lane: ministry as cinema. Not in the preachy sense, but in the textured, searching, faith-with-doubt sense that audiences didn’t know they were hungry for — until he gave it to them.

They didn’t come from old Nollywood. He didn’t chase Yoruba cinema, slapstick, or social realism. He didn’t mimic Hollywood either. Instead, he built a world — highly stylized, deeply sincere, and emotionally generous.

And then, they kept building. Quietly. Consistently.

The Film That Got Shrugged At

Enter After 30. A grounded, emotionally rich character drama about the choices we make when the idealism of our twenties begins to fray. No angels. No epiphanies. No miraculous deliverance.

The sequel to Before 30 — it is stripped of metaphor, stripped of spiritual scaffolding, and centered instead on the aching greys of adulthood: ambition, longing, regret, and the quiet panic of time slipping past.

You would think critics — many of whom have long begged Nigerian filmmakers to “evolve” — would celebrate the shift. Instead, they seem stuck. Some call the film “flat,” others “unsure of itself.” A few went quiet altogether – they call it bad.

And that tells us something about what happens when a filmmaker becomes a mirror — too familiar to praise, too consistent to surprise.

The Curse of High Expectations

What’s happening to After 30 isn’t a flop. It’s a pattern. And it isn’t new.

In music, this happens when artists hit their mid-career — when audiences start comparing every new project to their personal nostalgia. Think Asa post-The Captivator. Think early Kendrick versus Mr. Morale.

In literature, it happens too. A writer spends a decade crafting emotional truths, then publishes one honest, less performative work — and it’s dismissed as “lightweight.”

In Nemsia’s case, they built trust. And then became its prisoner.

A Studio Worth Studying

What gets lost in the noise is that Nemsia Studios has quietly become a world-building machine. In an industry often driven by film-to-film survival, they’ve built an actual catalogue. You can trace aesthetic shifts. You can watch actors grow. You can see a deliberate emotional arc — from wide-eyed faith to weary, resilient adulthood.

How many studios in Nigeria can say that?

Where others chase festival laurels, they choose resonance. They do quiet premieres. They engage audiences that don’t live online. They refuse to dilute story for trend. In a space where everyone is rushing to please an imagined global market, Nemstar stays local — in emotion, in rhythm, in moral complexity.

A Call for Reframing

So maybe After 30 wasn’t what you expected. Maybe it wasn’t what you wanted.

But maybe the discomfort isn’t about the film — it’s about us. About how we treat creators who don’t reinvent themselves with fireworks. About how we demand evolution, but punish it when it’s subtle.

They’ve made better films, sure. But After 30 may be their most important — not because of what it achieves, but because of what it survives.

And maybe the annoyance isn’t a rejection. Maybe it’s an invitation.

To stop consuming films for their volume.

And start listening for their voice.