Despite all these, My Father’s Shadow is not a dirge. Its fragmented form allows for moments of tenderness and beauty, even humour. These flashes underscore the resilience of ordinary Nigerians, who, despite betrayals by their leaders, continue to love, to sing, to imagine futures for their children.
My Father’s Shadow is not a film that tells you what to think about 1993 or about Nigeria’s long arc of disappointments. It’s a film that teaches you how to feel history: to smell it, taste it, hold it against your ribs. It’s a portrait of a father whose love is messy and incomplete, and a nation whose promises frequently arrive late or not at all.




