Film review: My Father’s Shadow

Still from My Father’s Shadow (courtesy of MUBI)

Anjola Fashawe and Tobi Olatidoye reflect on grief, memory and fatherhood in a haunting debut set in 1990s Lagos

My Father’s Shadow is a bold directorial debut by Akinola Davies Jr., co-written with his brother Wale Davies, that feels like a phantom-like monument to the Nigerian diaspora. Set against the political backdrop of June 1993, right as the historic democratic election of Moshood Abiola is annulled by the military regime, the film follows brothers Akinola and Olaremi through a hypnotic rites of passage in Lagos.

As young British-Nigerian viewers ourselves, the film resonated with us deeply. The key themes of memory, masculinity and grief explored through a Yoruba lens was powerful. The film has even swept up a number of awards, including the BAFTA for Outstanding Debut by a British Writer, Producer or Director, a Special Mention for the Caméra d’Or at Cannes, and five wins at the 2026 Africa Magic Viewers’ Choice Awards. Viewing the film for the first time in the cinema together showed us the power of representation on screen. The film undeniably resonates with a wider Nigerian diaspora and provides a fresh take on fatherhood.

The Weight of Being a Nigerian Father
Despite the sons being central characters, a noteworthy aspect of the film is its confrontation with fatherhood. Folarin inhabits the space to redeem himself in his children’s eyes. What shadow does he want to leave behind for them? The absent father figure, or the caring one?

During their exploration of Lagos they end up at a beach, where a heartfelt moment is shared between him and Olaremi. We see him crack his shell and expose his vulnerability just to prove his love for his sons.

Olaremi, as the older of the two, understands that their father loves them, yet the youngest, Akinola, cannot fully understand the idea of love and absence coexisting. This is the crux of the story. It is told through the eyes of children, who see their father in different lights. One understands more of the world around him, while the other simply wants his father to stay. Both perspectives feel equally valid.

The behaviour of the boys also shifts upon their father’s return, and they become the embodiment of Nigerian obedience. As Yoruba viewers, we especially connected with the film’s reflections on sacrifice and masculinity within Nigerian culture.

Folarin states that “everything is sacrifice,” a poignant phrase that relates to Nigerian culture on a macro-scale. Men are expected to sacrifice themselves for their families, even whilst suffering in silence. What the Davies brothers do well is the deconstruction of this form of toxic masculinity through Fola’s openness as a father. The question that emerges is: how much do you give away until you are no more?

Lagos as a World Between Life and Death
We found it fascinating that the huge political event surrounding the annulled election is barely mentioned by anyone except Folarin himself. What begins as a simple journey quickly morphs into something abstract and eerie.

To us, the true turning point occurs when their danfo breaks down. From there, the boys follow their father Folarin’s shadow back across the bridge into Lagos. We made a note that this diversion marked the start of their journey into the “abstract” world – the world of memories.

This is underscored by the use of 16mm film during their exploration of Lagos. The hazy grain yet clear visuals mirror the phenomenon of recollecting memories that are vivid to the person experiencing them, yet unreliable at the same time.

As they enter this liminal space, we started to view Folarin, or ‘Kapo,’ as a ghost mourning a life he never truly got to live. He drags his sons on a desperate quest to collect six months of back-pay, yet a colleague notes that four months have already been paid. This left us with the chilling realisation that Folarin might actually be dead from the very start, trying to settle unfinished business.

It seems that Folarin is in a state of limbo between life and death as he repeatedly returns to his workplace only to be met by Mekus and no supervisor. The factory acts as a hub for troubled souls that have not received closure before transcending to the afterlife.

The atmosphere is heavy with omens of death, from the second nosebleed to the swirling vultures overhead. Reality blurs entirely as Folarin moves through a world of spirits on the road. We interpreted figures like the mysterious woman in blue and the grandfatherly figure whispering “make sure to tell my wife” as part of this supernatural space. Strikingly, Folarin and his wife are never shown sharing a single scene in the present.

Grief, Dreams and Generational Healing
Ultimately, we see the film as a layered journey of acceptance. Folarin passes his ancestral necklace down to his eldest son, honouring his own brother who drowned in childhood and whom he used to see in his dreams.

By the end, when Folarin tells Olaremi that he will see him in his dreams, it feels like the ultimate closure. Folarin’s final statement that “you just have to pray you don’t sacrifice the wrong thing” is bittersweet, as absence despite love slowly transforms into love despite absence.

The final line, “I will see you soon in my dreams,” echoes between the brothers and their father, cementing My Father’s Shadow as a moving piece about healing from a life cut short.

Still from My Father’s Shadow (courtesy of MUBI)

Watch the trailer here 🔥⤵

See more about Tobi Olatidoye here.