This is not our first conversation. Although my mind is transient, it’s the third conversation we will be having after I got familiar with the name: Yinusa A. Korede. Without lumping the, though casual and spontaneous, film-focused conversations together, here is an attempt to recall them. Korede’s film, Flesh and Spirit, which is the subject of this interview, screened virtually at The Annual Film Mischief (TAFM) 2023. Before then, I had been subconsciously stalking his WhatsApp status. After two days of casually seeing his status update, two things are glaring: he is a musician and also a Christian. Thus, upon seeing the short film and its exploration of the worldview of indigenous traditional religion, I asked a question, which I still smuggled into this interview question: “How was he able to make a film off a religion he doesn’t actively practice?” After that transient virtual question-and-answer segment, we met physically during TAFM. A well-rimmed spectacle was wound around his face while a cap complemented his dressing. Amidst the film-focused banter that surrounds us, I introduced myself. Another conversation, which I can’t recall its content, ensued. In those short-live and impetuous conversations that build up this interview, questions about the film’s affinity to Abba T. Makama’s The Lost Okoroshi have always taken a frontline position. In answering the question, Korede reveals that Makama also took inspiration from Kaneto Shindo’s Onibaba. In this exclusive interview with Yinusa Korede, the director of Flesh and Spirit, we spoke about his short film that screened in the indie-curated The Annual Film Mischief (TAFM) 2023, paying homage to Abba. T. Makama’s The Lost Okoroshi, and questions about telling a non-condescending story about working-class people. If it’s not stale: Congratulations, on making the official selection for this year’s TAFM. How did being selected for the indie-focused festival make you feel? It felt great. The selected films this year were amazing. And it feels good that our micro-budget film was included in the program.For an art-inclined viewer, one of the beauties of the film is the art sketches. Can you speak to this? I am a lover of animation. While I was surfing the internet, I came across a beautiful stop-motion animation in sketches. I was amazed by the level of effort put into the work. When I was working on Flesh and Spirit, the idea I got from watching the stop-motion animation came to me again and I knew I needed to infuse these sketches into the world of the film. You can take it as a creative escape and artistic improvisation. And to add, it would have cost more to film those masquerades or to rent several masquerade costumes.You are a Christian. Is it possible to make films about things you don’t actively practice or believe in? Do you need to be immersed in certain experiences to tell stories about them?Sincerely, I feel there’s a need for research. Some might argue that you need to be fully immersed in a world to properly tell stories from that world.] but If you do your research well, you will tell a well-grounded story.This means that in-depth research can take the place of total immersion in the worldview.Absolutely! The film has been screened in different film festivals. What have been the responses of audiences to the film? The response has been great. Lots of festival selections, a few awards, and lots of festival rejections as well. Some people find it hard to believe the entire project was shot on a mobile phone. Storytelling is what matters, not the gears.What has been the most striking audience response so far?I had a conversation with an audience member. We talked about the masquerade depicted in the film. She believed that the masquerade depicted in the film and the eulogy do not correlate. I wasn’t after the proper representation of a particular tribe in Yoruba. I wanted to create my masquerade. It’s drama, but experimental at its core.Yeah. I noticed the observable difference between the masquerade and the eulogy too.Speaking of contrast. Flesh and Spirit aside, your other short films, Country Boy, Away, and Water Palava spotlight issues related to the working-class people in Nigeria. Is there a reason why more stories aren’t told about working-class people? Those earlier films are what I call rough plays. I love to tell stories about the common man and sincerely, I think these earlier films have influenced the kind of stories I like to tell. People are often concerned about demystifying stereotypes now. They claim they want to tell better stories about Africa in opposition to stories on poverty, struggles, etc. For me as an artist, I am drawn to stories of the common man. The struggles, happy moments, disappointment, and most importantly how the immediate environment affects these characters. Art can create a constructive reality, but I believe the proper function of art is to reflect reality.How does our filmmaking intend to tell stories about these people without exploiting their realities for “cheap reactions”? Is this a deliberate choice? This still boils down to research. Proper research does help to critique the story even at the point of conceptualization. Since we are dealing with the realities of people, I think it’s only fair that a level of research is put into the development of the work. Aside from getting the story right, the technique used in telling the story is of equal importance as the story itself. This is where the creative expertise of the filmmaker comes into play. I was having a conversation with a foreigner sometime ago about Water Palava. I said the film shows the struggles of some small towns and communities’ difficulties in getting access to clean water. She replied by saying that she doesn’t feel they are suffering.  She emphasized that the children in the film looked happy and playful. She concluded that they were having the time of their life and wouldn’t realize the need for cleaner water to make their living conditions better. I thought I had told the story of the struggles and misery of these...