How did Nigerians ever forgive General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida aka IBB? This was my immediate thought at the end of the screening and the North American premiere of My Father’s Shadow (dir. Akinola Davies, Jr), at the 2025 edition of the Toronto International Film Festival, TIFF, which held from September 4-14, 2025.
In all, My Father’s Shadow had four screenings at this edition of the festival, being TIFF’s landmark 50th anniversary. This, in itself, is a remarkable achievement. And for Nigerian cinema, Nigerian filmmakers, or Nigerian anything, anywhere, My Father’s Shadow must be seen as a source of pride as it continues to break records.
It was the first Nigerian film to be listed in the official Cannes Film Festival (2025) selection in the ‘Un Certain Regard’ category. It then emerged as the winner of the Caméra d’Or Special Mention. Caméra d’Or literally means ‘golden camera’ and is usually awarded to the best first-time feature film. Although this year’s winner of the Caméra d’Or prize was The President’s Cake (dir. Hasan Hadi), which was in the Directors’ Fortnight category, a Special Mention is given to an outstanding debut feature film, and what’s more, the winner is published on all official festival press releases, website and other publications.
By now, you must have heard one or two things about My Father’s Shadow, as its fame now precedes it. In fact, last month, the film was picked through a BAFTA selection committee to represent the United Kingdom in the Best International Feature category for the upcoming 98th Academy Awards, otherwise known as the Oscars. Anyhow, fortunately for me, I had no inkling of any of this before I saw the film at TIFF. This allowed me to see My Father’s Shadow through relatively fresh eyes and an open mind. There are many things to say, all expressing my free-flowing thoughts as I watched the film: This is a film festival’s film, and it reminded me of some film greats like Ousmane Sembene.
There’s something about the feel and look of the film, especially the opening. With this, one could do a close reading of just the first 10 to 20 minutes of My Father’s Shadow and still capture the essence of the film. Now, some of this might sound rather superfluous. But one of the up sides about being at a film festival, and seeing a film only once, is that one must depend on and revert to one’s first impressions. Seeing the film more times could reverse some things, positively or negatively, who knows?
All that considered, My Father’s Shadow transported me back to 1993, the ensuing years, and the events I personally witnessed and experienced after the widely adjudged free and fair elections of June 12, 1993, was annulled by the military administration of Nigeria’s ‘Maradona’ IBB. Hearing the fictional announcement of the annulment in My Father’s Shadow was jolting and saddening at the same time. Because 32 years later, it’s not like our elections in Nigeria, sorry, votes have become more secure.
One could argue that we’ve been having other forms of annulments, albeit figuratively. Or what do you call this new system where eventual winners are not necessarily those who received the most votes cast? In any case, the way we’re going, where every politician can’t jump into the boat of an ill-performing ruling party fast enough, would elections even be necessary? As I asked in the opening, how could we have let IBB off so easily, so much so that he’s still regarded as the wizard of Minna, whose blessing is still being sought by politicians as they troop to Minna to receive his ‘papal’ blessings as they kiss the ring? But I digress.
My Father’s Shadow is a story set in the course of one day. Folarin (Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù) returns home after what seems like a long time away. His sons, Remi and Akin (real-life brothers Chibuike and Godwin Egbo), are home alone without their mother, who is said to have gone to the village. This part is not so clear to me because the house looks like an abandoned house in a remote village. Father and sons then undertake a not-so-smooth journey to the big city of Lagos. While in Lagos, the boys are in awe as they experience and take in different sights, people and things. By the way, Folarin’s trip to Lagos isn’t only about showing his sons the wonders of the big city. He’s also trying to collect his salary arrears.
We can almost smell the hope and expectation in the air, as most people are looking forward to MKO Abiola (candidate of the Social Democratic Party, SDP, and the presumed winner of the annulled June 12, 1993, elections) being declared winner, sworn in as president, which will kick start the beginning of better things to come.
Nostalgia and sentimental memory enveloped me beautifully. However, I was concerned with the film’s opening, which some may not like because of its length. The poetic chant, which is done in English, I think, would sound so much better and would’ve had more heft in Yoruba. My ears could pick up that the transliteration doesn’t really work well in English, as the meaning sounds almost trite. Perhaps the producers didn’t want the film to sound too tribal. Or even too political because the politics of it isn’t laid on too thick.
So much more attention could’ve been put on MKO Abiola as a person and politician. In a way, this is smart because even though Nigeria’s current president touts a pro-democratic background, especially from the June 12 era, the film’s progress in Nigeria could be derailed by people not too keen on MKO Abiola, for instance. Even for audiences, there may be a few who may not want to hear another word about June 12.
It’s also smart to not plot My Father’s Shadow as a linear docu-series in retelling the June 12 story. This way, it gives audiences some freedom to draw their own conclusions and to connect the dots to current happenings in Nigeria. And, who knows, they could also find some answers and a way to move Nigeria forward (an overused cliché).
There’s so much more to say. But I’ll round off by commending the great performance from the actors, especially from the trio of brothers Godwin Egbo, Chibuike Marvelous Egbo and Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù. Greg Ojefua does well, also.