On the eve of Eid al-Adha in Alexandria, a father returns home from the hospital after having spent six months in a coma. The father has two sons Ali, the elder, the one he loves and respects since he has a job and a family and Farouk, the younger, with whom relations at a certain point became irreparably damaged.Over the course of a single night, confined mostly to the apartment but spilling occasionally into the neighborhood streets, father and son engage in a verbal and emotional duel. Old secrets resurface, blame circulates, and inherited fears come to the surface.  Small nocturnal wanderings break the sense of enclosure, but the journey ultimately returns to its core: the choice of whether to interrupt or perpetuate a cycle of affective violence passed down across generations.With My Father’s Scent,  Siam moves into fiction without abandoning his documentary sensibility. The film is built on real settings, and long observational takes. The unity of time and space turns the domestic interior into a stage of power relations and traumatic memory, while the sacrificial dimension of Eid provides a ritual framework that reframes family conflict as a metaphoric offering. A touching King Lear-esque nuance makes the film even more intense and moving.Siam privileges proximity and off-screen space, letting domestic sounds and the urban night act as the film’s emotional editing. Performances are central and outstanding,  while Malek embodies generational defiance, El Basha (Coppa Volpi for best actor in Venice for The Insult) conveys a weary yet still intimidating  paternal authority. Their exchange is composed of micro-gestures, silences, and hesitations, eschewing melodramatic revelation in favor of gradual erosion of defenses. The result is an ethical chamber drama, where reconciliation is not a cathartic resolution but an excavation into the intergenerational transmission of shame and resilience.Teresa Cavina