Actor, Bucci Franklin, tells KEHINDE AJOSE about his career, playing the character ‘Oboz’ in the movie series, ‘To Kill A Monkey’, and other issues
Your character, Oboz, is described as both charismatic and menacing, a man who climbed from the streets to a life of luxury but was also deeply lonely. How did you find a way to connect with and humanise a character with so many conflicting layers?
I think the key to connecting with Oboz was recognising that contradiction is a fundamental part of being human. We all carry dualities— light and dark, strength and fear, pride and shame. Oboz just wears his contradictions more visibly.
What helped me humanise him was focusing on his back story. He’s someone who’s had to fight for everything — love, respect, survival — and that kind of desperation never really leaves a person. I leaned into that vulnerability. Underneath the bravado and intimidation, there’s a little street boy still trying to prove his worth. In general, I just want to thank God for giving me access and strength to maintain Oboz’s energy.
You mentioned that you stopped physical grooming from March until the shoot in August, allowing your hair and nails to grow out to physically become Oboz. Can you share more about how altering your physical appearance helped you tap into the character’s raw and untamed essence?
As the Holy Spirit instructed, letting go of grooming was my way of surrendering control. I wanted to feel raw, exposed — a little feral even — because Oboz isn’t polished. He is power wrapped in chaos.
As my nails grew out and my hair got slightly wild, I started to see someone else in the mirror. That transformation reminded me daily that I was shedding my own skin to step into that of Oboz. It wasn’t just cosmetic; it affected how I moved, how I sat, how I looked at people. There was a physical discomfort that mirrored the psychological restlessness of Oboz, and that discomfort became fuel for me.
Beyond the criminality and betrayal, what do you believe is the fundamental human need or vulnerability that truly connects Oboz and Efe?
At the core, it’s the need to be seen and accepted by someone who understands your darkness and doesn’t flinch. Oboz and Efe grew up in the same emotional war zone, so there’s this unspoken understanding between them that no one else could replicate; at least in Oboz’s mind (laughs).
Loyalty in their world is currency, but for them, it’s also intimacy. As toxic as it is, their bond is rooted in a very pure longing to not be alone in their brokenness. I know it’s a pretty dark place to be.
In an interview, you described landing this role as a divine experience. How did your personal journey and faith guide your interpretation of the character?
God is my manager before anything. There are moments in life that feel like you’ve been prepared for them in ways you can’t fully explain. That’s what this role was for me. When I first read the script, I felt something shift inside me; like I was meant to give voice to the character.
My faith was my compass through the entire process. It reminded me that even in portraying someone who walks through darkness, my job was to tell the truth, not to judge — because I, Bucci Franklin, am not perfect. The Holy Spirit helped me stay grounded in empathy. Oboz is the kind of soul most people would write off, but I knew my job was to show that he’s still a soul. He is still redeemable, even if it’s just in the smallest way.
After embodying such an intense character, what was the process like for you to decompress and step away from Oboz once filming wrapped?
Letting go of Oboz was like peeling off layers of armor. I had eight hours to unlearn, but it wasn’t a problem. I mentioned earlier that the Holy Spirit gave me access. I prayed to God, and He helped me let go of Oboz.
Also, I stayed away from anything heavy and spent time with people who reminded me who I was outside of the work. Oboz is intense because he’s had to be. There’s a kind of hyper-awareness he lives with that I found strangely useful in my own life, especially when it comes to reading people or trusting my instincts.
Weirdly, I also think playing him made me more compassionate. But there’s a lot to learn from Oboz. He reminded me that we’re all carrying something; some of us just scream it louder than others.(Punch)
