“When you or a group of people are dislocated from your homeland, there’s this inherent negotiation that happens between how your identity, your values, and your sense of self as a community then fits within this new system”. – Kalu Oji
By Vivian Nneka Nwajiaku
One of the brightest gems at this year’s Africa International Film Festival (AFRIFF) is an Australian film about a Nigerian immigrant in Melbourne and his young son who comes to live with him just as things are falling apart. Titled Pasa Faho (2025), the comedy drama stars Nigerian comedy icon, Okey Bakassi, as Azubuike, an Igbo shoe salesman about to lose his shop while struggling to provide for his son, Obinna (played by Tyson Palmer).
Pasa Faho is the debut feature of writer-director Kalu Oji—a filmmaker born and raised in Australia to an Igbo father and an Australian mother—after three well-received short films, including Blackwood (2019), which won the Filmmaker-to-Watch Award at the 2019 Atlanta Film Festival.
In our review of Pasa Faho, Afrocritik found it to be a tender reflection on fatherhood and the Igbo immigrant experience, describing it as “a delicate story about a father struggling to hold on to who he is and what he has, even as he crumbles beneath the pressures of legacy, identity, and obligation under the watchful gaze of his son.”
In this exclusive interview, Afrocritik sits with Kalu Oji and Okey Bakassi to discuss the negotiation of identity that comes with immigration, the portrayal of father-son relationships, their process of achieving honest storytelling, and the place of comedy in Pasa Faho.
Pasa Faho clearly comes from a personal place. What informed its creation, and how was it shaped by your experiences?
Kalu Oji: I wanted to write questions and explore characters and themes that felt very significant to me. The kinds of questions I was grappling with in terms of place, what my identity is founded upon, pride, lineage, and, when I have children, what I’m going to pass down, and what that struggle is going to look like.
And a lot of it is reflected in my own relationship and the conversations I’ve had with my father, and the conversations I’ve had with my mother and my uncles and aunties, and people who are not related to me but [are] my uncles and aunties.
When you or a group of people are dislocated from your homeland, there’s this inherent negotiation that happens between how your identity, your values, and your sense of self as a community then fits within this new system. In my case, [it’s] from Igboland to Australia. And those two places are so different. We’re humans, so there’s always similarities, but those two cultures are founded on very different spoken and unspoken values.
I felt that a lot growing up, as someone who experiences both cultures as well. I’m a very proud Australian. I’m a very proud Igbo man. But I have these two experiences, and till today, I see that there’s such a friction between those two experiences. And so, what I really wanted to capture in this film was how that feels, not just for myself, but how that feels in the broader sense for the community.
It’s very poignant, and it’s not rare. There [are] lots in Australia. Maybe fewer Nigerian-Australians or Igbo-Australians, but we have a lot of African-Australians. And there’s going to be such an overlap in all those experiences. We have all these different communities, all these different parts, which kind of have to exist as one.
Okey Bakassi: For me, as someone who has family in diaspora, the moment I saw the script, I could relate. From an artistic point of view, I like new challenges. I like to play roles that I’ve not played before. From a story standpoint, it’s something that I could relate with.
I have a son, daughters as well, [but] I have a son who is growing overseas. As every father would want to, you want to also keep him abreast of his culture, keep him in touch with his ancestry, and mentor him as a father. And that’s the same situation that Azubuike found himself in with his son in the story.
It’s something that I know that a lot of Nigerians will resonate with. One thing about entertainment is that it’s easier to connect with people when they can relate with exactly what you’re doing.
The title, Pasa Faho, is quite original. What does it mean, and how does it tie into the film’s message?
Kalu Oji: The title has been a blessing and a curse. I love it so much, because of everything it represents, but I get people coming up [with] “Oh, this is the shoe film”, “This is the Okey Bakassi film”, “This is Kalu’s film.” It’s everything but the title of the film. But for me, it’s a phrase that came to take on a whole lot of meaning and significance.
You have that community existing with all these other communities which [are] separate from their ancestral lands. You have these puzzle pieces that exist as one whole in that sense. For the characters, you have people navigating their senses of identity and what they choose to take on and what they have to leave behind, and how those core pieces of their identity have to interact.
Azubuike’s pride has to interact with his responsibility of being a present father. You have Obinna, who is growing up between these different cultures, navigating these new spaces. They don’t exist in isolation.
And so, Pasa Faho came [from] “Parts of a Whole”. It spoke to the thesis of the film, in that it’s all these different people and different communities and different systems and structures having to exist not in isolation but as part of something much more collective.
At the centre of the story of Pasa Faho is the relationship between Azubuike and Obinna, as father and son. How did you approach that dynamic?
Kalu Oji: I was coming into my young adulthood when I started writing this film. And reflecting on and hearing from people around me [about] experiences of that relationship of father-son, parent-child in general, I think I just wanted to capture it honestly.
My father has aspects of Azubuike in [his] character. I have aspects of Azubuike in my character. I have uncles and grandfathers and all these people around me who have pieces of Azubuike. And I think something I feel is this sense of pride and duty and strength and a kind of stoicism that I see in so many of these people, and I’m also aware that I have all those traits in myself as well.
And I feel like for a relationship to be honest, it has to fall away at some point, whether it’s active or whether the world is going to push you in a way that’s going to make that thing fall away. So, approaching writing the father-son dynamic was really wanting to capture that transformation, that journey. Making the kid at this age where it feels like it’s kind of a fork in the road, where he could take on all the pride and all the stubborn strength from Azubuike, or he can take on this new honesty.
The themes in this film, I’ve thought about so much during life, and I know people around me have felt and experienced and talked about [them], but I felt like I hadn’t seen on the screen something that felt grounded in that truth. It’s not a big film. A kid comes down, he lives with his father, his father loses his shoe shop, life keeps on moving. It’s pretty simple, but I wanted to explore one truth of that relationship.
Okey Bakassi: Like I said, it’s almost like a lived experience. In acting, you borrow from your real-life experiences, from what you see in your environment. All that helps you prepare. When you see a story, you take some time, you analyse, you do your research, before you immerse yourself in the character.
Then, when I got to Australia, we had some days to rehearse. I had the opportunity to meet the boy who was going to play my son (Tyson Palmer), and we had enough time to do some kind of bonding. When you’re playing a father-son role, you must get to that synergy where the boy can see you as a father figure. And when they get to that stage where they are comfortable enough with you to relate to you in that way, it makes their own interpretation of the character easier.
In acting, both actors feed off each other’s energy. It’s teamwork. So, when you get to that point when you have succeeded in making your co-actor comfortable in the role that they’re playing, it helps both of you in navigating the emotions involved in delivering that character.
The father-son relationship is particularly interesting because there’s some formality to it, but they get a lot of moments where they do bond.
Okey Bakassi: I’m very happy that you said there was some formality to it, because we were intentional in bringing that formality. In the story, the son had been living with the mother. The mother is [white], and the father is black. He comes from a family that is separated. We had to create the awkwardness of meeting again after a while.
I was intentional about it, not looking very seamless and cordial. I wanted there to be a bit of ice that would gradually thaw out, so that by the time we get to the end, and they begin to relate better, you can now see that they have progressed. I’m glad that we were able to achieve that transition.
Pasa Faho also stays true to the nuances and sensibilities of the Igbo people, especially migrants. How were you able to capture those nuances honestly?
Kalu Oji: I didn’t know from the jump, tonally, where I wanted this film to exist. Thematically, all the stuff was there, from the first draft. But what wasn’t on the page at all, until we captured it on set, was the richness that the characters were brought to life with.
I was quite aware that there’s only so much I can write. I’ve only got my eyes, my experience, my mind. And so, quite early on in the scriptwriting process, I was sharing the script a lot with script developers, industry people, and then with a lot of people who are not in the industry. With a lot of Igbo people as well, with family friends or some elders in my community back home—Dr. Dozie Ezigbalike was very pivotal in this film.
So, I was constantly guided, and I guess that was like a thematic guiding. Of course, I was writing it, but it was a kind of collective experience. We’d just sit in the room together, four of us—three Igbo men who were Azubuike’s age. We’d sit down together, and we’d read the script, and we’d talk about it. We did that a lot during development.
And then, there [was] a lot of collaboration with the actors. On set, there was a decent amount of freedom to add those nuances and those idiosyncrasies and the mannerisms.
Surely, Okey Bakassi had a lot of influence.
Kalu Oji: He had the most. If there was a scoreboard, he’s definitely topping it, for sure.
Okey Bakassi: We had to look at the cultural elements, knowing that our people will see this story. When they see it, will they look at it like, “This is us,” “This is not us”? So, if they were going to see it as “Yeah, this is us,” then it had to be done properly, which is where my input was very valuable. I had to give the cultural context of some of the nuances and the relationships, and make sure that we captured it in ways that our people can relate.
That is where I think my input was very valuable to the production, just to give it that full cultural interpretation, navigate everyone in that direction, so we don’t stray too much off-target, in as much as we are in the diaspora. Because most times, Nigerians like to retain their identity irrespective of where they are. There is something that makes us, us, that we don’t like to water down no matter where we are.
There is a tendency for foreign productions not to cast home-based Nigerian actors in lead roles, despite the added context they might have. How was this casting decision reached, and what were your reactions to it?
Kalu Oji: We had state funding which, in the context of the Australian film industry, is not a lot. And so, we were trying to find local actors. There’s [a few] thousand Igbo people in Australia, and no one comes to Australia to act. Everyone is a professor or working in healthcare. I knew that casting was going to be important, but it was going to take some time.
So, we were casting for a very long time, and I was doing it myself because I was the film’s main access point into the community. We tried to throw the net as far as we could, and we met with some great people, but there wasn’t someone that I saw that I had full faith could carry the film.
We got to January or February, and we were scheduled to shoot in April, and we didn’t have Azubuike. And we were like, it’s been a year, and so we had to look outside. I was aware of Okey’s work. My family, big fans. It was a bit of a risk, [but] I know he’s done dramatic work like Onye Ozi. We reached out, spoke to him on the phone. After I spoke to him, that thing inside me said, “It’s worth the gamble.”
Okey Bakassi: Honestly, when they reached out to me, I was really excited. You know, I’m thinking, “Of all people, why me?” Then, I had that conversation with Kalu, and he explained to me why he thought I’d be in the best position to do it, and that kind of strengthened my interest in doing it.
At the end of the day, it paid off, because if there’s anybody who fits into that character, it’d be me. In reality, I have a son within that age bracket, as at the time we shot. My son lives abroad. You might as well say I’m a diasporan because I shuttle between Canada and here (Nigeria). And I’m an actor. So, I checked all the boxes for that role.
Did the casting have anything to do with comedy?
Okey Bakassi: That was part of it. They didn’t want it to look too serious.
Kalu Oji: This film is a very small film, and it has the potential to be just drama. I’ve always described it as a comedy drama, and all throughout development, I was getting the feedback that it’s not funny. And I was like, “Trust me, it’s funny.” So, what I think Okey was able to bring was this kind of charm, and this comedy, and this lightness, which I think Azubuike’s character really benefits from.
Okey Bakassi: People don’t realise that comedy is one of the hardest art forms. To look at written words and transform it into something that can make people laugh is not as easy as most people think. If you look at a drama like that, which is a serious subject matter, to look at it and know when to infuse humour and when to let it be serious takes additional experience.
So, when you’re a seasoned professional, especially in comedy, you know that the audience would like to laugh, the director wants it to be funny at some point, but you also know when to apply brakes and just be serious. Which is what a good stand-up comedian does. Same thing with acting.
You should be able to tell where to just tell a simple story and let it be a simple story, and you know where to drop the punchlines and give it the dose of humour that it needs. So that people can laugh but not lose sight of the important message that you’re trying to send.
On other production decisions, Pasa Faho has a nostalgic, grounded feel and visual tone. What influenced that, and how did you achieve it?
Kalu Oji: One, my taste. In my short films, in the films I love watching, in the work I love consuming, even just in life, I love things that feel textured and imperfect. Even beyond film, I’m naturally inclined towards imperfection because it feels tangible, it feels very real. In the context of this film, I really wanted it to feel that way as well.
Getting into the broader space of film, it’s an African-Australian film. We don’t have African-Australian media, really. But we have a lot of stories that have been there for decades now, since the 80s, but it’s only now that people are starting to share those stories in film and music, and art.
And so, what I wanted the audience to feel when they watch this film is that you’re not looking at something that’s just happening now in 2025, and suddenly there’s African-Australians. You’re looking at this artefact. I wanted people to have this experience when they stumble across the film, and it’s like pulling something out of the closet. It’s like going into your auntie or your uncle’s closet and you pull out this old VCR, and it’s this whole world that you maybe weren’t aware that it existed, but it’s always been there.
And that’s how it is in terms of these communities, not just the Igbo community, but the African-Australian community. And that’s the experience I want to give the audience. Even if they were seeing this for the first time, it wasn’t something that’s new, it’s something that’s been around.
Celluloid obviously lends itself to this and is a format that we’ve worked with on our shorts, so from the very inception, it was our intention to shoot 16mm. I’m a big advocate for what film brings to a project, not just in its final result but for what it does to the production process itself. The reality is that this was almost impossible at the time of shooting. We eventually landed on a digital-film-digital workflow, which was a compromise that allowed us to get the film made whilst bringing over a lot of those characteristics we were seeking.
You’ve both made other films, but this is a new experience for each of you—a debut feature as director, or a first time filming in Australia. What surprised or challenged you in making Pasa Faho?
Okey Bakassi: The trip to Australia itself. It’s the longest journey I’ve ever done in my life. When I was negotiating with them, they said, “We want you to be on ground two weeks in advance before shooting.” You know, in Nigeria, the way we shoot, we don’t have that kind of time. You want to arrive and get to it immediately. I said, “No, I can’t burn two weeks just sitting around, but I can squeeze myself and do one week.”
But when I arrived [in] Australia, I realised why it was important that I had to have time before shooting, because my jet lag was for like a week. Travelling alone was about twenty-four hours, and going through how many time zones. By the time you get there, your body will be totally confused. So, it was a good thing that I arrived early enough to acclimatise.
Secondly, it had an international cast and crew, mixed races. I’ve not worked with that level of diversity before. But everybody was very professional. It was also a very young crew. So, it was really fun feeling like an old man among so many young people and being accepted as family. It was a beautiful experience.
Kalu Oji: The scale of it. In so many ways, it felt so similar to making short films in terms of the process. We worked with a lot of the same crew, a lot of the same methodology we tried to implement. But the scale of this, I haven’t felt stakes like this before. I remember stepping on the set [on] day one, and I’d never felt that pressure before. I felt so much responsibility and pressure. And I think that took some adjusting.
It was incredible, such a beautiful experience. The stamina of shooting for five weeks, and the bigness of working with a production like that, it was a learning curve. And it’s something I want to do moving forward, so it felt like a very necessary change, like a butterfly breaking from the cocoon.
On moving forward, should we be expecting a Nigerian production soon from either of you, as an actor or director, as applicable?
Okey Bakassi: We are planning something for next year that will be shot abroad as well, but this time, pure comedy. It’s a movie as well. We’re working on it.
Kalu Oji: I’m writing one now. I’d love to. Even more so, after being here (in Nigeria) for this week. Hopefully, sooner rather than later, but I’m writing something right now.
*Pasa Faho premiered at the 2025 Melbourne International Film Festival and subsequently screened at the Chicago International Film Festival in the same year. It had its Nigerian premiere at the Africa International Film Festival (AFRIFF) 2025, where it won the award for Best International Feature Film.
Vivian Nneka Nwajiaku is a writer, film critic, TV lover, and occasional storyteller writing from Lagos. She has a master’s degree in law but spends most of her time watching, reading about, and discussing films and TV shows. She’s particularly concerned about what art has to say about society’s relationship with women. Connect with her on X @Nneka_Viv