For cinephiles like myself, choosing a weekend movie is a cherished ritual. This familiar routine took an unexpected turn last weekend, leading me down a rabbit hole of copyright complexities plaguing Ethiopia's film industry.

Ordinarily, I would bypass the impersonal telegram channel of the cinema and head straight for a friendly chat with the mall manager. Our longstanding rapport grants me access to insider information, making movie selection a delightful social exchange. But, these are busy days that left the manager with precious little free time. I found myself scrolling through the Telegram channel, sifting through the weekend offerings.

Having already dismissed a few familiar titles and a marathon-length, three-hour epic, I was left with two intriguing choices: the highly anticipated "Kung Fu Panda IV" and a local film titled "Almotual." The allure of a local production piqued my curiosity. The cinema was renowned for showcasing the latest Hollywood blockbusters, premiering them alongside their international release dates.

Habitual caution urged me to consult Rotten Tomatoes, the online arbiter of cinematic merit. Reviews for "Kung Fu Panda IV" proved favorable, though not quite reaching the stratospheric heights of its predecessors. While the animated spectacle and slapstick humor of the franchise were undeniably appealing, the "young adult" demographic targeting felt slightly off-kilter for my tastes.

This hesitation nudged me towards "Almotual." Ethiopian cinema had gifted me with some truly remarkable experiences in the past. However, the industry also had its share of pitfalls – repetitive storylines, a reliance on a handful of familiar actors, and production values that occasionally left me wanting. Unfortunately, the digital space offered no insights into "Almotual." A search on Rotten Tomatoes yielded nothing, and YouTube, usually overflowing with trailers and clips, remained frustratingly silent until a video with the title materialised after relentless search. But the subsequent hour and a half of footage revealed a different film entirely – "400 Fikir."

This was a blatant ploy by unscrupulous YouTubers, a cynical attempt to lure viewers with a newly released film's title, only to serve up a completely unrelated movie. This deceptive tactic not only dupes viewers but also undermines the hard work of both filmmakers. The victims in this scenario are multifaceted – the creators of both films, the general public seeking genuine entertainment, and those who use social media platforms to legitimately promote their work.

By the time I reached the cinema the local movie had succumbed to the fate of a sold-out show. Left with "Kung Fu Panda IV," I settled back in my seat, ready for a dose of animated mayhem. Fortunately, the film delivered, a vibrant action, humor, and adventure, punctuated by the audience's collective laughter. As I immersed myself in the character's journey, the phrase "To do the right thing!" caught my attention. I could not help but draw parallels to the real world.

Witnessing the copyright infringement with stolen content generating views and subscriptions, felt akin to daylight robbery. My concerns intensified as my thoughts drifted to a local video rental establishment I frequented. This shop boasted a seemingly bottomless trove of entertainment. From Hollywood blockbusters to Bollywood classics and Nollywood stories, to a cornucopia of Ethiopian films, the collection seemed boundless. The sheer volume of content always astonished me. If a movie was not readily available on the shelves, the resourceful young owner had an uncanny knack for conjuring it from the digital ether.