A parent’s desires are rooted in their children having the opportunities and resources that were never afforded to them when they were young. Sometimes that requires a parent’s absence in the hopes of delivering something far better than their child could grasp. In his directorial debut, Akinola Davies Jr. sets out to unearth that absence and excavate what a father could do that’s more important than being present in the lives of his children in My Father’s Shadow.
Set in the aftermath of a hotly contested presidential election in 1993’s Nigeria, Davies paints a portrait of his childhood so precise and damning that it asks the viewer to empathize with a family foundation ready to collapse on the promise of something grander. Davies bases his film on his childhood (alongside his brother, Wale Davies, who co-wrote the screenplay with Akinola), beckoning and understanding who their father was, and the ripples his absence had in their lives growing up.
Through a mixture of archival footage depicting Nigeria’s intense political strife, Akinola sets the stage for My Father’s Shadows as a coming-of-age drama through a macro lens, as the rightfully angry nation contests election results and the current military president has soldiers dispatched to cities to calm those yearning to know who their next president will be. One of those passionate voters is Falorin (Sope Dirisu), a father of two young boys, Aki and Olaremi (played by newcomers Godwin Egbo and Chibuike Marvelous Egbo). Falorin has been absent from his boys’ lives because his work requires him to be in Lagos, far from his remote village. His boys don’t know what he does, his absence leading them to spend their days pestering each other or drawing WWE fighters in mock battles.
One morning, Folarin breaks the boys’ hearts, saying he must go to Lagos to settle some business concerning his payment. Feeling the boys’ disappointment, he invites them to come along and share a glimpse at what his father does. What follows is a prolonged day, and the trio slowly learns more about each other. As the brothers see the kinds of adults their father interacts with, they learn who they can trust in such an open, chaotic world—the kinds of experiences not available to them in their humble village.
Falorin is also trying to confront his boss over being owed six months of pay, something he’s been hoping his company would resolve once the election was over. Yet this day not only tests his blind faith in the institutions he’s entrusted, but his children’s faith in an optimistic future of being Nigerian in a fraught, tumultuous Nigeria, where they see even their confident, self-assured father cave to outside forces.
Akinola paints this day with such distinct vividness and particular details that it feels transportive in memory. No doubt he and his brother wrote this screenplay not only to depict their reckoning with who their father is, but also their home country as a place filled with peculiar and wide-ranging characters, some are charismatic, while others are dangerous. Yet Akinola retains his focus on the small narrative of a family coming to understand each other.
During portions of the film, Falorin showcases the seminal moments of his life to his boys, such as where he lived as a child, the university where the boys’ mother attended, a run-down, empty amusement park, and the gorgeous beach next to a mesmerizing ocean. All beautifully captured by cinematographer Jermaine Edwards, aided by understated minute production design by Pablo Bruhn and Jennifer Boyd. With all of these elements, Akinola transports the viewer to a period that, like his father, has been lost to time.
The real superpower is Dirisu’s performance, as he embodies a father’s tough exterior hiding a deeply hurt and angered soul, desperately clinging to the absent hope of a newly elected leader that will bring sweeping change to a troubled country; the hope of earning his backpay to provide for his family, hoping to be the father his boys deserve. Disiru’s performance is heartbreaking in a melancholic, tough-engine manner, always persevering despite setbacks and obvious disappointments, always putting on a front of strong masculine energy in front of his boys, as he interacts with other adults. It’s a transfixing performance that weaves between proud, confident leadership and scared doubt for what the future holds. Dirisu is incredible.
Played by real-life brothers, Godwin and Chibuike have a marvelous chemistry that could’ve been so hard to capture if they weren’t brothers. Godwin creates Aki to be more mature than he is for his age, always reticent to his brother’s playful antics, trying to be more independent and perhaps less of an extension of his father. There’s a deep resentment he has for how much his father is removed from the family dynamic and how abandoned he feels. It’s a layered performance, complemented by Chibuike’s silly, child-like performance. There’s an innocence tethered by the endearing work Chibuike gives to Olaremi, where he needs to be constantly engaged, sometimes to a pestering degree, or not sharing his ice cream money with Aki, despite his father’s insistence that he does. Both actors find the right tone, making these brothers pop off the screen through specific behavioral ticks, and Akinola directs them with such ease and fluidness.
My Father’s Shadow doesn’t aim to answer the questions of who or what Akinola’s father was, and by the end, that may seem disappointing and lackluster. The ending is rushed after it’s announced that President Ibrahim Babangida will annul the election results. It sends the city of Lagos into turmoil and violent protests. As Falorin brings his sons back home, the storytelling feels more curt and jagged with a formal resolution, contrasting the loose, free-flowing storytelling present in most of the film.
Yet, what’s not lost is the detailed portrait Akinola visualizes of a father and a country placing hopes for a better life in an absent void of promises and assurances, as long as they follow the rules and conform to societal expectations. The film is both nostalgic and nightmarish, depicting a specific memory of a father toiling and grinding to not only provide for his family, but also demonstrate what a father in 1993 Nigeria can be for his boys. Akinola’s film is haunting and tragic in the presence left behind, yet a lovely slice-of-life film of two brothers sharing a memory with their father, in what it’s like to be a grown-up.
Review Courtesy of Amritpal Rai
Feature Image Credit to Mubi via Variety