
Dada
On the eve of her 16th birthday, a daughter and her dad drive around the perimeter of a nuclear power plant, reading books, and creating seemingly harmless nonsense games. The film invokes the erosion of language, the failure of mentorship, and the threat of the abyss.
Summary
“Dada” (2024) follows a teenage girl on the eve of her 16th birthday as she spends time driving around the perimeter of a nuclear power plant with her father. Their outing is shaped by books, private jokes, improvised word games, and seemingly meaningless rituals that give their relationship its own strange logic. What initially appears to be a whimsical father-daughter excursion gradually takes on a more uneasy, elusive quality as the pair’s conversations reveal how difficult it has become for them to communicate. The father is an eccentric, intellectually inclined figure whose attempts to guide or educate his daughter are both playful and increasingly unsteady. The daughter, observant and on the threshold of adulthood, participates in his games while also seeming to recognize their limitations. Their connection is affectionate but marked by distance: he offers lessons and distractions, while she searches for a language—and perhaps an identity—that belongs to her rather than to him. Set against the imposing presence of the nuclear facility, the film turns an ordinary family drive into an atmospheric meditation on danger, inheritance, and the instability beneath familiar routines. Its title suggests a world of fragments and childish invention, while the film’s focus on reading, repetition, and linguistic breakdown points to the ways words can lose their meaning. “Dada” also considers the failure of mentorship: what happens when a parent’s wisdom becomes performance, when guidance cannot address the fears of a changing world, and when a child begins to see through the stories meant to protect her. Quietly surreal and psychologically tense, the film uses its spare premise to evoke both the fragile intimacy between a father and daughter and the threatening abyss that surrounds—and may already exist within—them.







