When the Light Goes Up but the Pay Doesn’t: Cinematographers and Precarity in African Film

Cinematographers are the ones who make our stories look like cinema. They sculpt light, choose lenses, and quietly translate script into mood. Yet across Africa, many of these visual architects work in conditions that look shockingly less like long-term careers and more like freelance survival tactics — short notice, brutal schedules, minimal social protection, and wildly inconsistent pay. That contradiction should unsettle everyone who cares about the future of our screen industries.

The numbers (and reporting) tell two stories at once. On the one hand, top DOPs are demonstrably valuable: Nollywood’s highest-grossing cinematographers helped power films that accounted for hundreds of millions of naira at the box office in 2024 — a clear indicator that great cinematography sells. On the other hand, broad surveys and sector studies show the African cultural and creative economy remains overwhelmingly informal, project-based and precarious — precisely the environment that leaves cinematographers exposed. The ILO’s review of the sector is blunt: work is often temporary, informal and lacking social protection; decent-work deficits are the norm, not the exception.

That mismatch — high creative value, low structural support — is visible in ordinary working practices. Veteran and rising DOPs report being brought onto productions at the eleventh hour, sometimes with only days to prep, expected to shoot impossibly dense schedules and to deliver cinema-quality results on shoestring time and budgets. As one cinematographer put it in a recent interview:

“Some people are shooting twelve to twenty scenes a day. There isn’t time to set up properly.” This isn’t artistic hustle; it’s a recipe for burnout and lower craft standards over time.

Wages and stability are part of the problem too. Market salary snapshots show wide variance — from modest averages in South Africa (PayScale / Glassdoor data) to project-based spikes for marquee DOPs in Nollywood — but the headline is the same: many camera crews are paid irregularly, and middle/rising-tier practitioners often see work that doesn’t match their contribution to a film’s commercial success.

It would be easy to treat this as a purely economic problem. But it is also moral and cultural. Cinematographers in Nigeria and beyond are organizing (the Cinematographers Society of Nigeria recently reaffirmed its commitment to professionalism and the welfare of technical crews), and that’s a sign — not of complaint, but of industry maturity. The CSN statement insisted: “Our objective is to maintain professionalism, ensure the welfare of every technical crew in television and film, guide members through a thorough ethical process, and monitor and ensure good working conditions among our members.” That pledge matters — but it must be matched by concrete bargaining power, standard contracts, minimum day rates, and enforcement.

What should change — now?

1. Minimum Standards & Day Rates. Producers’ associations and guilds need to publish transparent minimums for DOPs and camera teams. Where such systems exist globally they raise craft standards and protect mid-career professionals.

2. Pre-production Time as a Contracted Line-item. Cinematography isn’t a weekend job. Contracts must guarantee adequate prep time and reasonable daily schedules.

3. Portable Social Protections. Freelancers must have access to pooled contributions for health, pensions and insurance — ideally via guilds, unions, or public schemes adapted for the creative economy. The ILO urges governments and the AU to build such protections into cultural policy.

4. Transparency in Credits & Royalties. If cinematographers meaningfully boost box office and streaming performance, models for residuals or performance-linked bonuses should be tested. The Pulse analysis proves the correlation between striking cinematography and commercial success.

   
   

This is not the nostalgic outcry of creatives who want more perks. It’s a pragmatic blueprint: if we want African cinema to be sustainable, exportable, and technically excellent, we must stop treating the people who give it its look as disposable. KC Obiajulu’s recent profile underlined another truth:

many DOPs are selective because they value craft; they want time to collaborate and to be part of the storytelling process, not just hired hands. When the industry refuses to afford that time, it borrows brilliance it won’t keep.

Cinematography is an investment in cultural capital — and yet we underinvest in the people who turn scripts into images that move audiences. Policymakers, streamers, producers and funders must all reckon with the cost of current precarity. Because if the light keeps going up and the pay and protections don’t follow, African cinema risks a talent drain that no box-office statistic will immediately reveal — but which will eventually show up where it matters most: on the screen.