The film was born from discovering a Super 8 film shot by her deceased father during her childhood, and unfurls through a personal archive of images and reminiscences that patch together the life of this complex and reserved individual. In its quest to deconstruct the mundane, private appeal of family memories, Doi calls the film an “anti-home movie,” yet in keeping with the diaristic quality of her previous works, My father, burned paints its portrait of memory akin to a window onto a chamber or interior space, through which ambiguous emotions resonate and resound.