My Father’s Shadow unfolds as a poignant Nigerian drama, glimpsing a father’s world through his sons’ innocent eyes amid 1993 Lagos turmoil. Directed by Akinola Davies Jr in his feature debut, the film follows brothers Remi (11) and Akin (8), played by Godwin Chiemerie Egbo and Chibuike Marvellous Egbo, on a rare day trip with their father Fola (Sope Dirisu), chasing unpaid wages during a petrol shortage.

As the first Nigerian film to premiere in competition at Cannes, earning a Caméra d’Or Special Mention, it captures the eerie pull of memory, blending personal bonds with national unrest, its meditative tone evoking the haunting weight of absence in a nation on the brink.

Whispers of Absence and Love

The emotional heart of My Father’s Shadow lies in the boys’ quiet discovery of their father’s world, Remi’s question:

“If you have to leave us because you love us, is that why we cannot see God?”

a piercing probe of love’s paradoxes.

Fola’s distant presence, marked by his unexplained absences and nosebleeds, reveals a man burdened by provision, his affection surfacing in tender moments like the beach play, yet shadowed by regret. The mother’s sadness, glimpsed in Fola’s tales of her theatre passion, adds a layer of familial ache, her absence on this day amplifying the boys’ vulnerability.

The story explores Nigeria’s cultural fabric, where fathers loom as myths, the boys’ innocence clashing with adult realities like military glares, stirring a dichotomy of memory as elusive yet enduring. This introspective arc, rooted in personal recollection, balances warmth with unease, its subtext of paternal love resonating deeply, though the even tone risks distancing those seeking overt drama.

A Day That Stretches and Shifts

The narrative traces a single day in June 1993, starting in the boys’ village home, where Fola arrives unannounced, quizzing them on his missing watch, then whisking them to Lagos for unpaid wages amid the election’s tense air. The trip turns odyssey, a bus stalling for petrol, a truck ride bumping through chaos, Fola being greeted  as “kapo” while chasing the man with his pay.

The rhythm dips in long dialogues, but cutaways to details like birds, ants, hands, people, or waves interweave surreal glimpses, the pace meditative yet steady, building anticipation, keeping engagement. The structure’s non-linear hints (e.g., the cloth’s final glimpse) layering meaning.Soldiers parade with threatening stares and unease, Fola wants them out, and a passenger shouts “the problem with this country is discipline!”  The day ends with Fola’s lessons on family provision, the plot’s deliberate flow and calm keeping focus.

Faces That Haunt and Hold

Sope Dirisu’s Fola commands with quiet strength, his performance a blend of tenderness and regret, the nosebleeds and soldier glare conveying unspoken strain that lingers with viewers. Godwin Chiemerie Egbo and Chibuike Marvellous Egbo, brothers in real life, shine as Remi and Akin, their childlike innocence—refusing to share yoghurt, asking raw questions—convincing and honest, avoiding precocious traps, although their polished language contrasts their social class. Wini Efon’s mother, though absent, echoes in Fola’s tales.

Supporting turns, like Greg Ojefua’s Emeka, Uzoamaka Power’s Abike, and Tosin Adeyemi’s Aunty Seyi, ring true, their brief exchanges adding warmth. The ensemble’s natural flow grounds the film’s meditative tone, Dirisu’s lead carrying the emotional weight.

A Craft That Breathes Memory

Akinola Davies Jr’s direction crafts a haptic sense of recollection, the editing interweaving cutaways to keep dialogue scenes engaging, putting viewers in a meditative state. Cinematography, by Jermaine Edwards, shifts from smooth village shots to handheld Lagos chaos, low angles mimicking the boys’ view, conveying unease and immersing in their perspective.

Production design revives 1993 with revival posters and Rashidi Yekini images, costumes like Fola’s rolled-sleeve shirt evoking faded elegance. Lighting casts shadows in blackouts, heightening tension, though some shaky frames jar. These choices evoke nostalgia, the image’s grain a texture of memory, rewarding attentive viewers with immersion.

Final Thoughts

My Father’s Shadow probes the fragile bonds of family against Nigeria’s 1993 turmoil, where absence shapes love’s contours. The film’s vignettes, the beach play, raise a haunting query: can love endure when rooted in distance? Its take on fatherhood’s myth, from Fola’s provision quest to the boys’ glimpses of his flaws, stirs reflections on Nigeria’s lost promises, the petrol shortage a symbol of stalled progress. The even tone, while building unease, risks losing the impatient, its jargon-free dialogue a breath in Nollywood’s air.

Nollywood often amplifies personal stories with flair, but Davies Jr’s subtlety creates space for memory’s dichotomy, urging viewers to dwell in the past’s elusive grip. What does it mean to know a father when he’s forever a shadow? This debut stands as a tender tribute to Nigerian resilience, its strengths resonating for those who embrace its meditative pace.

Verdict

My Father’s Shadow rewards viewers who cherish introspective dramas, its subtext and atmosphere offering emotional depth. It suits film fans ready to unpack memory’s layers and political hints. It’s Cannes premiere deserves its acclaim, a haunting watch worth the immersion.

Rating: 4.4/5