My Father’s Shadow, a shimmering, cinematic celebration of Lagos, will be viewed by most people from a child’s perspective. Set on June 12, 1993, the day of Nigeria’s election crisis, Akinola Davies Jr’s semi-autobiographical movie is about two boys – Aki, 8, and Remi, 11, are played by real-life brothers Chibuike Marvellous Egbo and Godwin Chiemerie Egbo – who spend a day with their often-absent father, Folarin (Sopé Dìrísù), as political tensions arise around them. A key, whispered line of voiceover dialogue: “I will see you in dreams.”
To the boys, Folarin is a magnetic, mysterious figure who’s as much of a tour guide as a parent. As Folarin demonstrates the delights of Lagos to his kids, they in turn analyse their father for clues: his flirtations with women who aren’t their mother; allusions to political activities; signs of a vivid life away from the family. However, a different cinemagoer could perceive the film as being from the point of view of Folarin, not the kids. After all, the viewer is seduced by Dìrísù’s movie-star charm, and it’s Folarin who steers the story’s narrative for his children’s benefit.
In between sips of coffee in King’s Cross, Davies suggest to me there’s actually a third perspective. “You can watch it from the dad and the kids,” says the 41-year-old British-Nigerian filmmaker. “Or you can watch it in terms of the politics of what’s happening in the world. It’s all woven together.”
On that day in history, the Social Democratic Party won the first election to be held in Nigeria for a decade, only for the result to be annulled by the ruling military leader. Whereas Aki and Remi may ignore the news unfolding on the TV, they’re surrounded by public optimism in Lagos that soon shifts to angry protests. “My brother still lives in Nigeria,” says Davies. “He was really decisive in being able to weave how the politics interjects into people’s lives.”
The script was written by the director and his older brother, Wale Davies, both of whom were a similar age to Aki and Remi in 1993. “It’s reflective of who me and my brother are,” says Akinola. “I’m very introspective and confrontational in a way that’s compassionate, whereas my brother is more contextual. He’s more like, ‘One plus one equals two, but why?’ He’s more literal, and I’m more abstract and visual. He’s super-aware of politics, and the performance of being Nigerian. I’m more someone who falls in love with images.”
Last year, My Father’s Shadow premiered in the Un Certain Regard strand at Cannes, where it was Nigeria’s first-ever film to be part of the festival’s Official Selection. Since then, its awards acclaim includes 12 BIFA nominations (Davies won for Best Director) and a BAFTA nomination for Outstanding Debut. While Davies is technically a debut filmmaker, he’s been directing short films (Lizard won the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance), music videos (“RAPT” by Kokoroko), and commercials (Gucci, Louis Vitton, Kenzo) for a decade. Dazed interviewed him in 2015, 2017, 2018, 2018 again, 2019, and 2021.
At university, Davies studied to be a journalist (“I maybe subconsciously wanted to tell stories”) and briefly worked at a publishing house. However, My Father’s Shadow is more concerned with the poetry of memory than documenting facts. In reality, Davies was 20 months old when his father died; during the writing process, he and Wale would debate their childhood recollections. “He was very idolising of our father,” says Akinola. “I was more protective of our mother.”
We wanted to have a conversation about toxic masculinity. You don’t always get to have these conversations with your father or caregivers
After Akinola and Wale wrote Lizard during a ten-day trip to an isolated, internet-less place near the Volta River in Ghana, the brothers worked on the screenplay for My Father’s Shadow in Jamaica and, again, Ghana. “I wouldn’t say I’m superstitious, but maybe I am,” says the director. “There’s a certain level of seclusion and being in places that are hot and feel like home. We’re surrounded by a lot of nature. It’s outside the remit of our regular lives. For our next one, he’s suggested we go to Lamu in Kenya.”
Aki and Remi chance upon Folarin in their home in rural Nigeria before he has to return to Lagos to collect unpaid wages. To the boys’ surprise, their father allows them to join him for the day, which allows Davies and his cinematographer to luxuriate in the details of Lagos life: the ponies trotting in the street; the ominous present of military in the background; Folarin swimming in the sea with his sons, only to reveal a devastating childhood memory of his own.
Look closer at an early montage, and you might spot crew members captured on camera, like when someone’s hand appears in front of the lens. “There’s something tactile and playful about having the crew involved,” says Davies. “For the audience, it’s texture, texture, texture. Texture sets a precedence. At the beginning of a film, I can tell if it’ll be good.”
A key component of that texture was shooting on 16mm, which Davies refers to as a political act: few, if any, Nigerian films get shot on 16mm. “I’m sure they were back in the 70s and 80s, but in the canon of recent things, I haven’t seen it,” he says. “There’s Nollywood, VHS, the digital era. And now we’re back at 16mm. I want to see Nigerians on the most beautiful format. It’s seductive. It’s inviting. It gives people an understanding of what it could look and feel like.”
Transitioning from commercials to an arthouse coming-of-ager, Davies had to rework his filmmaking language. On a branded video where viewers can’t switch off the YouTube clip, Davies would move the camera wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. “I had to unlearn doing the ‘cool, sexy shot’. My cinematographer on Lizard, Shabier Kirchner, told me, ‘In film, that’s the only trick you’ve got. When you move it, it has to have meaning behind it.’”
Thus a great deal of My Father’s Shadow consists of static, composed shots that create impact for the exceptions. One example is the use of a Steadicam that moves through a corridor and discovers Folarin in a bedroom, all seen from the boys’ perspective. Another is a 360-degree camera spin at home before the day trip begins. Davies is particularly fond of a scene involving a burning car: “You reward the audience because everyone has stayed so patient and tight. Being in a cinema makes such a big difference with those shots.”
As for how much of Folarin is constructed from memory, storytelling purposes, and a way to comment on masculinity, Davies believes it’s a mixture. “We would go to Lagos, and people would tell us, ‘Your dad was a rascal. He stole my girlfriend. He ran a record label.’ A lot of that is what we learned. But we wanted to have a conversation about toxic masculinity. You don’t always get to have these conversations with your father or caregivers. I was like, ‘If we’re making a film, let’s have that conversation.’ A lot of it needs context and nuance. The migrant father, or people from a developing country – there’s an aspect of needing to provide for a family which negates your absence and ability to spend time with your kids, because of what society has created. A lot of that nuance gets missed in the larger conversation.”
Would it be cheating his and his brother’s memory to have written a film entirely about Folarin, or even following him for a longer period? “We could have done it, but it wouldn’t have served the memory aspect,” says Davies. “The genesis of the idea was a memory me and my brother had of playing with our father on a bed. We don’t know if it’s true or fabricated, but it belongs to us. That’s what we tried to create in the film. People don’t know if it’s a memory, dream, or ghost story.”
My Father’s Shadow is out in UK & Irish cinemas on February 6.
Credit: dazeddigital
To the boys, Folarin is a magnetic, mysterious figure who’s as much of a tour guide as a parent. As Folarin demonstrates the delights of Lagos to his kids, they in turn analyse their father for clues: his flirtations with women who aren’t their mother; allusions to political activities; signs of a vivid life away from the family. However, a different cinemagoer could perceive the film as being from the point of view of Folarin, not the kids. After all, the viewer is seduced by Dìrísù’s movie-star charm, and it’s Folarin who steers the story’s narrative for his children’s benefit.
In between sips of coffee in King’s Cross, Davies suggest to me there’s actually a third perspective. “You can watch it from the dad and the kids,” says the 41-year-old British-Nigerian filmmaker. “Or you can watch it in terms of the politics of what’s happening in the world. It’s all woven together.”
On that day in history, the Social Democratic Party won the first election to be held in Nigeria for a decade, only for the result to be annulled by the ruling military leader. Whereas Aki and Remi may ignore the news unfolding on the TV, they’re surrounded by public optimism in Lagos that soon shifts to angry protests. “My brother still lives in Nigeria,” says Davies. “He was really decisive in being able to weave how the politics interjects into people’s lives.”
The script was written by the director and his older brother, Wale Davies, both of whom were a similar age to Aki and Remi in 1993. “It’s reflective of who me and my brother are,” says Akinola. “I’m very introspective and confrontational in a way that’s compassionate, whereas my brother is more contextual. He’s more like, ‘One plus one equals two, but why?’ He’s more literal, and I’m more abstract and visual. He’s super-aware of politics, and the performance of being Nigerian. I’m more someone who falls in love with images.”
Last year, My Father’s Shadow premiered in the Un Certain Regard strand at Cannes, where it was Nigeria’s first-ever film to be part of the festival’s Official Selection. Since then, its awards acclaim includes 12 BIFA nominations (Davies won for Best Director) and a BAFTA nomination for Outstanding Debut. While Davies is technically a debut filmmaker, he’s been directing short films (Lizard won the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance), music videos (“RAPT” by Kokoroko), and commercials (Gucci, Louis Vitton, Kenzo) for a decade. Dazed interviewed him in 2015, 2017, 2018, 2018 again, 2019, and 2021.
At university, Davies studied to be a journalist (“I maybe subconsciously wanted to tell stories”) and briefly worked at a publishing house. However, My Father’s Shadow is more concerned with the poetry of memory than documenting facts. In reality, Davies was 20 months old when his father died; during the writing process, he and Wale would debate their childhood recollections. “He was very idolising of our father,” says Akinola. “I was more protective of our mother.”
We wanted to have a conversation about toxic masculinity. You don’t always get to have these conversations with your father or caregivers
After Akinola and Wale wrote Lizard during a ten-day trip to an isolated, internet-less place near the Volta River in Ghana, the brothers worked on the screenplay for My Father’s Shadow in Jamaica and, again, Ghana. “I wouldn’t say I’m superstitious, but maybe I am,” says the director. “There’s a certain level of seclusion and being in places that are hot and feel like home. We’re surrounded by a lot of nature. It’s outside the remit of our regular lives. For our next one, he’s suggested we go to Lamu in Kenya.”
Aki and Remi chance upon Folarin in their home in rural Nigeria before he has to return to Lagos to collect unpaid wages. To the boys’ surprise, their father allows them to join him for the day, which allows Davies and his cinematographer to luxuriate in the details of Lagos life: the ponies trotting in the street; the ominous present of military in the background; Folarin swimming in the sea with his sons, only to reveal a devastating childhood memory of his own.
Look closer at an early montage, and you might spot crew members captured on camera, like when someone’s hand appears in front of the lens. “There’s something tactile and playful about having the crew involved,” says Davies. “For the audience, it’s texture, texture, texture. Texture sets a precedence. At the beginning of a film, I can tell if it’ll be good.”
A key component of that texture was shooting on 16mm, which Davies refers to as a political act: few, if any, Nigerian films get shot on 16mm. “I’m sure they were back in the 70s and 80s, but in the canon of recent things, I haven’t seen it,” he says. “There’s Nollywood, VHS, the digital era. And now we’re back at 16mm. I want to see Nigerians on the most beautiful format. It’s seductive. It’s inviting. It gives people an understanding of what it could look and feel like.”
Transitioning from commercials to an arthouse coming-of-ager, Davies had to rework his filmmaking language. On a branded video where viewers can’t switch off the YouTube clip, Davies would move the camera wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. “I had to unlearn doing the ‘cool, sexy shot’. My cinematographer on Lizard, Shabier Kirchner, told me, ‘In film, that’s the only trick you’ve got. When you move it, it has to have meaning behind it.’”
Thus a great deal of My Father’s Shadow consists of static, composed shots that create impact for the exceptions. One example is the use of a Steadicam that moves through a corridor and discovers Folarin in a bedroom, all seen from the boys’ perspective. Another is a 360-degree camera spin at home before the day trip begins. Davies is particularly fond of a scene involving a burning car: “You reward the audience because everyone has stayed so patient and tight. Being in a cinema makes such a big difference with those shots.”
As for how much of Folarin is constructed from memory, storytelling purposes, and a way to comment on masculinity, Davies believes it’s a mixture. “We would go to Lagos, and people would tell us, ‘Your dad was a rascal. He stole my girlfriend. He ran a record label.’ A lot of that is what we learned. But we wanted to have a conversation about toxic masculinity. You don’t always get to have these conversations with your father or caregivers. I was like, ‘If we’re making a film, let’s have that conversation.’ A lot of it needs context and nuance. The migrant father, or people from a developing country – there’s an aspect of needing to provide for a family which negates your absence and ability to spend time with your kids, because of what society has created. A lot of that nuance gets missed in the larger conversation.”
Would it be cheating his and his brother’s memory to have written a film entirely about Folarin, or even following him for a longer period? “We could have done it, but it wouldn’t have served the memory aspect,” says Davies. “The genesis of the idea was a memory me and my brother had of playing with our father on a bed. We don’t know if it’s true or fabricated, but it belongs to us. That’s what we tried to create in the film. People don’t know if it’s a memory, dream, or ghost story.”
My Father’s Shadow is out in UK & Irish cinemas on February 6.
Credit: dazeddigital
