0
0
In 1987, at 22 and as a relatively young actor, I got the rare opportunity to play a career-defining role on stage – Hadrian the Seventh. It is a 1904 novel written by Fredrick Wolfe, a British writer who wrote under the pen name, Baron Corvo. In 1967, Peter Luke, a British writer, editor, and producer adapted the novel into a play.
It tells the story of a young man who is denied ordination into the priesthood of the Catholic Church but, in a twist of fate, eventually becomes the supreme pontiff. He faces unbending opposition in his bid to reform the church, but his downfall is imminent owing to favoritism and victimization.
“I am Bayo Oduneye. If I say you won’t act again in this country, so will it be. What is wrong with you? I’m telling you … and you are walking away?”
The play was directed by the legendary theatre director and academic, Bayo Oduneye (fondly called Uncle B), who was at the PEC Repertory Theatre (then located on the same spot where the John Randle Museum currently sits). Mr. Oduneye was on sabbatical from the University of Ibadan.
The audition, which attracted a huge crowd, took place for about two weeks and, at the end of the day, to everyone’s disbelief, I was cast as Hadrian. Many other main and supporting characters had double-cast, but not Hadrian. I was the only one pencilled in to play that role to many people’s astonishment. Prior to that time, Uncle B had never watched me perform. I must have impressed him at the audition for him to develop an unmistakable reliance in my capacity to deliver.
Getting a role – any role at all – in a Bayo Oduneye-directed play was, in itself, a sufficiently reverberating honour; getting the lead role was simply the cherry on top. I was brought in for negotiations – the first time I will discuss fees in my career as a stage actor.
Before then, one was given whatever the producers of the play deemed fit and one did not have problems with that style; after all, one did not know any better. Above all, one longed to win the admiration of colleagues and the audience as well as acquire the knowledge which will make one a thoroughbred actor.
The production of Hadrian the Seventh was a very professional setting with Uncle B in the driving seat and Patrick Jude Oteh as the assistant director whilst Taiwo Obasaju was the stage manager. I was the first person to negotiate fees for Hadrian the Seventh. Uncle B was sandwiched between Oteh and Obasaju whilst I sat and listened.
The exchange was quite fascinating. Uncle B said, “Young man, congratulations. You have been cast to portray this role. From our budget here, we have ₦400.00 for you. Like you know, it’s going to be five weeks of rehearsals and three weeks of performance: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.” I replied, “Okay, thank you, sir”. I stood up and made for the door to go and celebrate because, frankly, I was thrilled by the offer. After all, how many times had one even earned ₦100.00 from portraying a character on stage, even for plays that toured a few towns and cities? However, sensing that I was dissatisfied with the offer, Uncle B roared, “My friend, will you come back here? Sit down. What is wrong with you? Look, we’d pay you ₦600.00. That’s all this production can afford.”
I thanked him once more and tried to leave again, but that must have irked him and he thundered, “Young man, come back here. Who do you think you are? Do you know who you are talking to? My friend, I am Bayo Oduneye. If I say you won’t act again in this country, so will it be. What is wrong with you? I’m telling you … and you are walking away? Sit down there. Listen, listen. Go and ask of me. It’s a privilege for you to be in my production. I am talking to you and you are walking away.” I responded, “I said, thank you, sir.”
He retorted, “What do you mean, ‘thank you, sir?’” Listen, I’d give you ₦900.00 and nobody, no producer in this country, can offer you that.” I was ecstatic at the mention of ₦900.00, an amount I had never earned as at 1987. I thanked him profusely, adding, “I am very satisfied with your offer, sir. I truly appreciate this and look forward to a harmonious and mutually-beneficial working relationship with you and the entire team.”
Uncle B warned, “Nobody must hear about this offer.” I signed the contract and left the room, euphoric. In fact, it was one of the happiest days of my life. The play was so critically acclaimed that Archbishop Anthony Olubunmi Okogie, the then Catholic Archbishop of Lagos, refused to take pictures with us. According to Uncle B, the Archbishop said he was not going to take photographs with the cast because the portrayal was too close to reality. Archbishop Anthony Olubunmi Okogie was a patron of the PEC Repertory Theatre and watched almost all the plays staged there.
Excerpted from Evergreen: An Unfiltered Odyssey of a Nollywood Emperor, a Memoir by Francis Kainebi Onwochei, published in June 2025 by Bronzeville Limited, Lagos.
