My Father’s Shadow: The Intimacies of Nationhood
At first glance, My Father’s Shadow (2025) has all the makings of an archetypal familial drama. A semi-biographical film directed by Akinola Davis Jr. and co-written with his brother, Wale Davis, it tells the tale of two young Nigerian brothers, Akinola (Godwin Chiemerie Egbo) and Olaremi (Chibuke Marvellous Egbo), who spend the day with their absentee father Folarin (Sope Dirisu) in Lagos. But through being set on the day of Nigeria’s most critical election, it becomes increasingly clear that there is more to this story. Using fragmented editing, lyrical cinematography and visual motifs, My Father’s Shadow combines the woes of familial bonds with the political struggles of a postcolonial Nigeria to create a beautifully haunting depiction of the symbiotic relationship between nationhood and personhood.
Immediately we are introduced to the film's crux: the inextricable relationship between the personal and the political. Shots of Olaremi, Akinola and Folarin together intercut with real archival footage from the 1993 election lead-up, a visual juxtaposition that continues throughout. Instead of depicting explicitly political scenes like rallies or speeches however, Davis Jr allows the political context to subtly seep into moments of familial intimacy. Rigged into a low angled child’s eye view, the camera places us in Olaremi and Akinola’s gaze, unaware and full of childish wonder, as they explore Lagos with their father. Intimate close up shots of Folarin’s frowning face, intense eyes, and smooth skin serve to mimic the brothers' curiosity whilst sweeping wide shots expose the beauty within the hustle and bustle of a capital city they (and we) are not familiar with. But through car radios, close-ups on newspaper headlines and conversations of passing strangers, we are aware that something serious is going on. Set on June 12th, a date seared into Nigerian consciousness, Folarin awaits the results of a pivotal election. The 1993 Nigerian elections were the first to be held after 10 years of military rule, representing the promise of a new future, a new Nigeria full of hope and opportunity. Its subsequent annulment instead represented the disposal of a nation's long-term democratic dreams.
Davis Jr’s narrative is supplemented by the editing; constantly cutting between time and space, it reflects the fragmented nature of Nigeria’s political history. A film rooted in history, its fragmented nature is also rooted in Nigerian cultural tradition, as Davis Jr explained that he invoked Yoruba storytelling forms by being “intentional about the film not being a linear story, being a film that jumps time and allows you to move and shapeshift”. Beyond this, the fragmentation also serves to help us see Folarin, Nigeria and the election as the brothers do; elusive and fleeting. Everything we learn, we must piece together ourselves like a past memory being reconstructed in the future. His use of 16mm film aids this realistic, memory-like essence. But consistently, the film's fragmented, dreamlike cinematography and light score is interrupted by extended tracking shots of patrolling military soldiers staring directly at the camera. Paired with a darker, ominous score, this disruptive motif reminds the characters and the audience of how quickly things can change for the worse. Even through the eyes of the two young, wide-eyed brothers, Nigerians cannot divorce themselves from the situation the country has found itself in. At many times, the brothers’ conflicted emotions towards their father are mirrored in the people of Lagos’ conflicted emotions towards their state. In this sense, the shadow referenced in the film’s title is both the absence and legacy of Folarin, and the hopes of a democratic promise that may or may not be fulfilled. Both constantly loom over Olaremi and Akinola, their final outcomes definitively shaping the brothers’ futures.
By setting the film on June 12th, a crucial part of Nigeria’s postcolonial history, Davis Jr. allows us to succinctly see just how much the personal and political collide. The emphasis on the interpersonal and the aesthetic form reveals a belief that national traumas are best understood when focusing on the people within the structures, rather than the structures themselves. But within this story of three family members is a fourth main character. Not a government official or explicit freedom fighter, but Nigeria itself. Instead of moving meekly behind the story or forcefully in front of it, Nigeria becomes a character in its own right. Davis Jr’s cinematic techniques afford Nigeria a status that allows it and all of its issues to shine through the personal tale.
Our questions about why Folarin is so absent in his children’s lives directly lead us to the socio-political system they live in. He must work in a city far away from his family because jobs for those who are not educated are scarce, he must suffer late pay because finding other employment is unlikely - is this why he fights so hard for the election? During the beach scene, the film's emotional core, we see Folarin, Olaremi and Akinola at their most vulnerable. For once, the film is still, the lack of fragmentation allowing them and us to take a break from Lagos’ busyness. Folarin’s stoicism melts away as Dirisu expertly expresses guilt at how he has sacrificed to provide for the family. “I want to be with you boys and your mother always but life is not like that. Nigeria is hard”, he tells Olaremi. Folarin and the adults around him regularly discuss generations; if our generation cannot be saved, then at least the next one might be. If democracy is ensured, then all I have sacrificed may not be in vain. In all Folarin does (working, fighting against the government) he is working to one end, to secure a future for his kids. But the personal cost of it is great; as the film comes to a close we see how a government has robbed two children of both a democratic future and a father they never got to truly know.
Nigeria has long stood as a recognisable giant in African cinema. The “second largest global film industry in terms of output”, its filmmaking industry (popularly known as Nollywood) has been a staple in African and Black diasporic households since its inception. But the global recognition and success that My Father’s Shadow has spawned demonstrates the strides made by African cinema. The first Nigerian film in Cannes’ Official Selection, where it received a Special Mention in the Caméra d'Or category, it also received 12 nominations at the British Independent Film Awards with Davis Jr. winning Best Director and 1 at the BAFTAs for Best Debut, which he also took home. Although he is a member of the Nigerian diaspora, My Father’s Shadow’s dedication to Nigerian storytelling and history is indicative of the diverse, experimental nature of the contemporary Nigerian (and indeed African) filmmaking scene. Davis Jr expressed how he believes it is “really important for Nigerians to see themselves in the most beautiful format… I think we deserve to see ourselves in the most beautiful format”, an act of reclamation that we see through his use of 16mm film over Nollywood’s digital standard. The continued investment in independent filmmakers and film festivals within the African film scene has allowed other filmmakers like Davis Jr to also “take creative risks without immediate commercial pressure, [develop] distinctive voices and [explore] subjects that mainstream cinema often avoid”, creating a contemporary scene rich with representation that pushes the boundaries of what is understood and expected of African cinema.
My Father’s Shadow offers a look at an important part of Nigerian history in a manner not usually afforded to explorations of African politics, corruption and democracy. Instead of expansive and cutting, it is delicate, personal, conflicting. A cinematic love letter towards a nation from an individual that clearly holds it in high regard but understands the importance of encouraging intergenerational dialogue and understanding. Drawing from his own personal story, we are given an intimate look at the repercussions of the state on familial ties. The beauty of its cinematography and editing only works to exacerbate the feeling of longing that lingers throughout as we watch Olaremi, Akinola and Folarin learn about each other and their country on one of the most important days in Nigeria’s history.