A Sombra do Meu Pai

LFF Entry #5

My Father's Shadow by Akinola Davies Jr. Is a beautiful and heartfelt film about two brothers and their father on a journey through Lagos, Nigeria. Along the way, their father reflects on memories of his wife and the life he once had, while the story also shows the harsher side of the city and its military presence.

It's visually stunning, powerfully acted, and captures the 1993 setting perfectly. A touching film about family, memory, and being there for one another.

Really loved this one! Definitely worth watching when it drops on MUBI!

Definitely recommended!!!

The Davies brothers deliver a tender yet devastating movie that works on multiple levels - as a time travel machine to the Nigeria of the early 90s under military rule, a love letter to fatherhood and its difficulties, a coming of age movie for two remarkable young boys and a boundary pushing exploration of what is allowable in the telling of Nigerian stories on film.

It's a movie that's best entered cold and without advance warning on plot, so I'd advise you to stop reading this review now and just go watch it. A masterpiece.

Fathers and sons often have complicated relationships. In many instances, boys often don't know their dads as well as they would like (or at all), leaving them with many unanswered questions about these individuals whom they dutifully but frequently inexplicably call "parent." So it's entirely understandable how the curious would jump at the chance to get to know their fathers better when such opportunities present themselves. So it is for two young boys, Aki (Godwin Egbo) and Remi (Chibuike Marvellous Egbo), who are invited to join their father, Folarin (aka Kapo) (Sope Dirisu), on a day trip from their remote village to Lagos, Nigeria's largest city, where their dad works. As a diligent head of the household, he often spends months at a time in Lagos without seeing his sons or their mother, Bola (Efon Wini), a noble but significant practice that leaves a sizable gap in the character of the family's home life. Because of Folarin's many extended absences, his sons know little about him other than his apparently profound love for them and his unwavering commitment to supporting them and his wife. But there's more to this lack of awareness than just his physical absence; Folarin is, by his nature, a man of mystery in many ways, and Aki and Remi know virtually nothing about this aspect of their father's life. This includes his past in Lagos, his courtship and relationship with Bola, and, perhaps most notably, his somewhat outspoken political outlook, a critical element of his background in light of the story's backdrop, the highly controversial 1993 national election and its troubling aftermath. Over the course of their journey, Folarin gradually reveals himself to his sons, telling them stories about, and showing them the haunts of, his past, gestures that provide him with windows into his character. They also provide opportunities for imparting insightful life lessons, many of which offer a profound look into Folarin's previously undisclosed self, the kinds of moments that usually leave lasting and meaningful impressions. Anyone who has ever had a relationship with his father akin to the one portrayed here will undoubtedly find this a touching and comforting story, one sure to tug at the heartstrings and possibly bring a tear or two to one's eye (so keep the hankies handy). The film also provides an enlightening, eye-opening lesson into a key event in the history of Nigeria's post-colonial era, one that's relayed clearly and pointedly but without becoming unduly belabored, depicting a time in the country's past that many Westerners likely know little about. But, perhaps most importantly, this is a moving tale (said to be semi-autobiographical of writer-director Akinola Davies Jr. In his feature film debut) that's certainly affecting on multiple levels, thanks in large part to the picture's fine script and excellent performances of its three principals, including the two young newcomers. "My Father's Shadow" is clearly one of the most pleasant surprises to emerge out of this year's festival, one well worth the time to watch, savor and enjoy.

Set in 1993 in the city of Lagos, Nigeria, during a national election that would've signified a shift from military rule to democracy. Two young brothers, Remi and Akin, accompany their father to the city in order to collect his delayed salary. The whole film takes place during one day, in which we get a few glimpses of their lives with short but impactful dialogues between father and sons.

The tone is masterfully crafted but never forced. Director Akinola Davies Jr. Is gentle in his style, inviting us into the emotional side of his world through beautiful use of close shots - the camera often lingers on dad's eyes, his pronounced frown and subtle expressions suggesting pain and longing. Other times, the camera waywardly dances around, accompanied by droning and intermittent piano notes with playful reverberations that, in my mind, signifies a slow reconstruction of a memory. It often pans to the contrasting color and decay in the streets, then to the sky, where a group of circling birds would follow the father and his sons throughout the film, never quite leaving us at ease.

The subtlety of the cinematography somewhat clashes with its predictible tragedy at the end, yet the tone of the film is simply hypnotizing, and the chemistry between father and sons keep us invested all the way to the end. The oncoming death is strongly hinted, quite literally through multiple shots of lingering birds in the sky that never fail to draw Remi's and Akin's attention. As the film is drawn loosely from director's own experiences, I couldn't help but think that this was a love letter to his own father.

In this sense, the film acts as a "slow recognition" - as Jason Ryle mentions in the official TIFF synopsis - of the often absent father through the eyes of his sons. "The difficult work of seeing someone clearly, perhaps for the first time, and finding something in them more profound than expected".

The father's impenetrable appearance is gradually pierced and he opens up as the day goes on, for what seems like the first time in his life, to his own sons.

One particular scene comes to mind, when they reach the beach and Folarin (the father) tells his eldest son the story of his own childhood, when his older brother drowned and how years later he had dreamt him in his sleep, always waking up at the moment that his dead brother was trying to tell him something. Folarin was then saddened by how no one talked about his older brother after he died, how "he was forgotten, as if he never existed".

That something that could never be told in his sleep may symbolize Folarin's own distance from his sons, it was - as he saw it - the necessary outter layer of hardened masculinity required in the politically unstable Nigeria of the 90's. Yet in the same scene Folarin tells his son that his own father was wrong in thinking that the only thing he could be is a provider.

As the waves are slowly rolling onto the shore, the eldest son asks his often absent father, "Daddy, if you say that you love us and God loves us, then does that mean that people who love us are always far away?"

The father fell silent. He did not know what to reply.