Lights Out

ENAH Johnscott
Director - LIGHTS OUT

Director’s Statement

This film was born from a deeply personal place. It is inspired by the lived
experience of our producer, whose grandmother suffered from dementia,
and by countless untold stories across Cameroon and Africa where memory loss is not met with care, but with fear. Dementia and Alzheimer’s
are still widely misunderstood in our communities, often mistaken for witchcraft, madness, or moral failure. Too often, those affected are judged, isolated, or even subjected to violence. This film exists to humanize them.

We tell the story through Lucas, played with quiet intensity by Wale Ojo, a
man who insists he is being held against his will. At first, his story is convincing, even logical. But as the narrative unfolds, cracks begin to appear. Memories contradict themselves. Perceptions shift. What seems like conspiracy slowly reveals itself as confusion. The audience is placed inside Lucas’s mindless mind, experiencing reality as he does: fragmented, suspicious, and terrifyingly unstable. By allowing the viewer to believe Lucas before questioning him, we invite empathy rather than judgment.

Artistically, the film is designed to reflect a mind losing its grip on time, trust, and truth. Lucas constructs untrue realities where caregivers become enemies and compassion is mistaken for exploitation. His belief that the care home, run by characters embodied by Syndy Emade, Shaffy Bello, and Libota McDonald is conspiring to declare him unfit and steal his wealth mirrors a real fear many dementia patients experience: the loss of autonomy and dignity. We chose restraint over spectacle, letting
performance, silence, and subtle inconsistencies guide the emotional journey.

At the emotional core of the film is Monica, played by Ngongang Elizabeth, the newest patient at the facility. She becomes the only person Lucas connects with, tenderly, gently, almost romantically. Their bond appears redemptive, suggesting that love might survive even as memory fades. But dementia does not only erase; it also rewrites. When their daughter Beverly, played by Brenda Ellung, arrives after months of searching for her parents, the illusion collapses. Through her testimony, we confront a devastating truth: the tenderness Lucas shows now stands in painful contrast to a past marked by violence, violence that left Monica with a head injury and erased her memory entirely.

This revelation is not designed to shock, but to expose the cruel irony of dementia: the abuser may forget the harm they caused, while the victim lives trapped in its aftermath. Love returns without accountability. Guilt disappears, but consequences remain. By holding these contradictions side by side, the film refuses simple moral answers and instead asks the audience to sit with discomfort, compassion, and grief.

This film is not just a story, it is a call for awareness, empathy, and reform. It challenges how African societies respond to mental decline and aging, urging institutions, families, and policymakers to replace superstition with understanding and care. We aim that through this film, we can reframe dementia and Alzheimer’s as medical conditions deserving of compassion,
protection, and dignity.