- That was the first time Bucci Franklin came into my consciousness — AY’s Crib. He played KC, the goofy, charming one with the short dreads and the baby face. The pecs weren’t pec’ing yet, and you could tell he was still climbing. But there was a spark — that thing that
made you say, “This guy go blow.”
Fast forward to 2025, and Bucci’s name is everywhere. His performance as Oboz in the Netflix series To Kill a Monkey has solidified what many of us have always known: this guy is not just one to watch — he’s one to remember. I sat with Bucci to talk about the moment, the manifestation, the madness, and the man beneath the muscle.
Interview by Ayo Lawal
Bucci, you’re the man of the moment — everyone’s talking about To Kill a Monkey. What’s this moment feeling like for you?
Ayo, I feel very good. Very, very blessed. I’m thankful to God — and to everyone, honestly. Because it’s one thing to give a solid performance and another thing entirely for the world to actually “receive” it. And not just receive it, but acknowledge it in all its glory.
That part has been humbling. But I’m also aware that it’s a very sensitive period for me. Whatever I do next — or don’t do — matters. This kind of moment can either open the next chapter or close a door if you’re not intentional. So while I’m grateful, I’m also grounded. I know the work continues.
When you first got the script and saw the role of Oboz, what was your gut reaction?
(Laughs) Man, I won’t lie to you. The way the script came to me was a bit wild. It was Remi Adetiba, who sent it over — he’s one of the co-producers on the project. He hit me up and said,
“I’ve got something for you.” At that point, I didn’t even know it was a lead role—nothing like that.
Next thing, he gives me an hour — just one hour — to send in a self-tape. One hour! And I won’t lie, part of me was like, “Wait, first — I’ve done some pretty solid work already. What’s with this pressure?” That little ego tried to creep in.
But I thank God I humbled myself. Even though I wasn’t feeling my best physically — I’d just come off being sick — I sat down and recorded it—no fancy setup. I didn’t even stand. Just acted from my face, my eyes. And then — boom. Remi calls back and says I got it. Here’s the thing, though: I manifested this role. I’d been saying for a while that I wanted to work with Kemi Adetiba. I even texted her after I sent in the audition, just saying, “Can’t wait to work with you.” At that point, I hadn’t gotten the part yet. But something in me just knew. It was written.
Oboz is such a gritty, layered character. What did you draw on personally to bring him to life?
Oboz is nothing like me. Absolutely nothing. I’m calm. I’m grounded. I’m spiritual. I respect people. I respect institutions. Oboz? Oboz is chaos. He’s emotionally broken, unpredictable, wounded — and dangerous. But once I got the role, I knew I had to live him. I started growing
my hair out. I started walking like him, talking like him. My family would look at me sideways sometimes. (Laughs) I was already becoming Oboz before we even started filming. That was the only way to make it real. It was a full embodiment. Not just acting — becoming. I let him sit
in me. I let him speak.
He’s from Warri, and you have roots in that region too. How much of yourself — or your hometown — did you see in him?
Funny enough, a lot of people think I’m from Warri. But I’m a proper Igbo boy — from Imo State. I guess it just means I did the job well enough that people believed it. That, and I’ve played a bunch of roles with that South-South, Benin-Warri energy. Even in Rattlesnake: The Ahanna
Story, I was that kind of character. And the Pidgin — people always associate fluent Pidgin with Warri boys. So maybe that’s part of it.
But no, I’m not from there. And honestly, there’s very little of me in Oboz. Maybe just the love for family — that’s the only piece of myself I might say I saw in him. Everything else? Nah. I’m not that guy.
A lot of people have said this is your ‘arrival’ moment — but you’ve been doing the work for years. Did it feel different stepping onto set as the lead this time?
Yeah, it indeed felt different. Look, I take all my work seriously, no matter the size of the role. But when you’re the lead, you carry the weight. Your name is at the top of the call sheet. People are looking to you to set the tone. You can’t slack. So yes, I prepared extra hard. Not just for the performance, but for the responsibility. And I’m grateful that everything I’d done before — all the roles, all the setbacks, all the growth — led me
here. Nothing was wasted. Nothing is ever wasted.
What was the most challenging scene to shoot — emotionally or physically?
Every single scene in To Kill a Monkey came with its own weight. There wasn’t a moment when I felt like, “Oh, this one will be easy.” No. The entire series demanded something from me — physically, emotionally, even spiritually. But if I had to pick one that really stood out, it would be
the restaurant altercation. That scene… whew. That one carried heat. Not just because of what Oboz was saying, but because of what everyone else in that scene brought to it. Funny enough, that was the same scene I used for my audition. It stretches you. You also can’t
afford to slack when you’re surrounded by people who are killing it in every take. That moment was explosive, and it felt like every piece of it — from the dialogue to the tension to the energy in the room — came alive on screen.
When did you first realise this wasn’t just a passion — it could be a career?
For me, this was never a hobby. From the moment I understood what purpose meant, I knew mine was in front of the camera. There was never a time I thought, “Maybe I’ll be a banker,” or “Let me try something else.
” No. Acting, storytelling — it’s always been my North Star.
And I’m deeply grateful that I get to do this professionally. That this thing I love so much is also the thing that feeds me, clothes me, pays my bills, and gives me a sense of identity. That’s not something I take lightly at all. Some people go their whole lives without finding what lights them up
up. I found mine early — and I’m walking in it.
You often bring such emotional depth to your roles. Where does that come from?
That’s God. I can’t even front. It’s not training or technique — not really.
I don’t know how I’m able to feel things so deeply and then channel them into a character. Sometimes I watch myself back and go,
“How did I do that?” I don’t always have the words for it.
I don’t think any actor truly does. You just… feel. You listen. You surrender. And somehow, that surrender translates into something the audience connects with. Something
that lands. That’s grace. That’s divine.
Have you ever felt boxed into a certain kind of role? Did To Kill a Monkey break that?
I get it — when people see you do a certain kind of role really well, they start to associate you with that lane. And yes, I’ve done a few action-heavy projects — Rattlesnake, Far From Home, even Razz Guy had that gritty edge.
But what people don’t always see is the variety within those characters. They might all move with a certain kind of toughness, but their intentions? Their emotional maps? Completely different. Plus, I’ve done comedy. I’ve done drama. I’ve played the lover boy, the broken man, the villain,
the clown. I don’t feel boxed in. Not at all. And if anything, To Kill a Monkey just reminded people that I can do depth. I can do subtlety. I can endure pain, silence, and power; I can do all of it.
Do you feel like you’ve earned this moment — or does it still feel surreal?
I’ve earned every tweet, every DM, every shout-out, every bit of love.
I say that not from a place of arrogance, but truth. This didn’t happen overnight. I’ve been doing this for a very, very long time. You also said that since 2013, you have known me. That’s over a decade of grinding. Of waiting. Of praying. But even with all that work, I still give all the glory to God. Because there are people who’ve worked just as hard, and they’re still waiting for their moment. So yes — I earned it. But it’s
grace that brought it home. Grace that amplified it. Grace that let the world finally see what I’ve been carrying.
What do you hope audiences walk away with after watching To Kill a Monkey —especially Oboz’s story?
For me, Oboz represents consequence. You can’t go through life doing people dirty — lying, cheating, stealing, killing — and think the
universe won’t respond. Maybe not today. Maybe not even in this lifetime. But trust me, it comes back around.
What I want people to see in Oboz’s journey is that choices matter. Power doesn’t protect you forever. When you cross lines, especially the ones written in blood and betrayal, there’s always a reckoning.
It might be spiritual. It might be political. It might even be personal. But it comes.
Now that the spotlight’s even brighter — what kind of stories are you hungry to tell?
I want to tell stories that centre women. That amplifies them. That gives them the space to be complex, powerful, broken, magical — everything they are in real life. We don’t do enough of that in our climate — celebrating women, that is. That has to change.
And I want to be part of that change. I’m already developing something right now. Shine Rosman is in it. We’ve got an amazing cast, a script that’ll blow people away, and a message that’s bigger than all of us.
So if you’re reading this and you’re an investor? Or do you love creativity? Come on board. Let’s make history. Let’s tell stories that matter — and do it with heart, beauty, and respect.
Watching Bucci Franklin’s growth over the years has been nothing short of inspiring. With each role, the spotlight grows brighter — more screen time, greater depth, and more impact. And somewhere in that journey, there’s a quiet reminder that the slow rise is just as powerful, just as valid.
Personally, I needed that reminder. It’s a lesson in patience, in trusting the process, and in staying true to your path even when the road feels uncertain. So yes, this moment — this win — feels personal. I’ve been rooting for him from the sidelines, and I’m truly grateful he took the
time to share his story with me. Here’s to more power, more purpose, and more history in the making.
