Review of “The Seed of the Sacred Fig”: An Iranian family burns

Reality seeps into “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” in multiple ways, including in ways that writer-director Mohammad Rasoulof couldn’t have imagined back when he was secretly filming this gripping drama. One of Iran’s most iconic filmmakers – and among those most often in the crosshairs of the theocratic government – ​​the 52-year-old author, now lives in exile in Europetells the story of a family whose social status is threatened by latent societal tensions right outside their door. In order to preserve the rigid status quo, the clan patriarch will do everything in his power to prevent the winds of change from invading his home and affecting his wife and daughters. By personalizing politics, Rasoulof warns us that repression begins at home.

Misagh Zare plays Iman, who has just been promoted to investigating judge at the Revolutionary Tribunal, a reward for 20 years as a dedicated lawyer. His wife, Najmeh (Soheila Golestani), is proud of him but also excited about what this new job means for them and their children, strong-willed 21-year-old Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami) and insecure teenager Sana. (Setareh Maleki). They will receive a spacious house in a better part of Tehran, and maybe they will finally be able to buy the dishwasher Najmeh dreamed of. But Iman warns his family that since judges are demonized in Iranian society, they should be careful not to spread this news. Highlighting the professional risks that await Iman, he was given a gun for his protection.

As soon as Iman shows his alarmed wife this gun (it’s loaded, but he assures her the safety is on), the audience may begin to worry about the precise moment the gun will go off. Provocatively, Rasoulof makes no attempt to hide the metaphors or twists of his story. On the contrary, he boldly foreshadows the darkness looming on the horizon, spinning his drama with austerity, the weight of inevitable catastrophe weighing on everything.

Over the past 15 years, Rasoulof (“Manuscripts Don’t Burn,” “There Is No Evil”) has been repeatedly imprisoned and had his passport confiscated, accused of spreading anti-government propaganda through his films with political connotations. “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” was inspired by one of these prison stays in 2022, which occurred at the same time as that summer. “Woman, Life, Liberty” uprisingsparked by the death of Mahsa Amini, a 22-year-old student, while in the custody of police, who arrested her for not wearing a hijab in public. (Authorities claimed Amini died of a heart attack, but her family insisted they beat her to death.)

These real events spark a match that lights the slow fuse of the film. At first, Rezvan and Sana express frustration because their father’s new job requires them to behave “properly” outside the house. (Who knows who might be monitoring their social media presence?) But soon, it will be impossible for them or their mother to miss the violent protests that followed Amini’s death. Najmeh constantly echoes what she sees in state media – Amini’s death is an accident – ​​while her daughters, getting information on their smartphones, strongly suspect otherwise. And then, Sadaf (Niousha Akhshi), a college friend of Rezvan’s, is accidentally trapped in a campus protest, her face obliterated by buckshot fired by the police. Long claiming that the protesters are just thugs, Najmeh painfully removes Sadaf’s bloody wounds, her assumptions about the government she loyally obeyed crumbling.

A film about complicity and denial, “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” examines how a seemingly reasonable husband and wife can tacitly support this national charade. Iman quickly learns that the “investigation” part of his job title is more of a suggestion: he is supposed to sign death warrants against people whose execution the prosecutor has requested. At first his conscience bothers him, but Zare’s performance is a marvel of quiet rationalization as Iman gradually decides it’s better to continue than make waves. A man without strong principles beyond protecting his status, Iman is alternately pathetic and terrifying, the latter occurring when Iman discovers that his gun is missing, an oversight that could cause him to lose his promotion. His fervor to determine who took the gun reveals an incredibly monstrous side, turning his wife and children into frightened suspects and leading to a jarring tonal shift that proves to be a cathartic and believable final destination for a film simmering with suspicion and anger.

Anticipating the incendiary subject of his film, Rasoulof had to choose and film “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” without notifying the authorities. This knowledge adds additional layers of defiance and courage to this dark story, which incorporates real protest footage and videos of police brutality to amplify the narrative’s verisimilitude. But the sad reality also imposed itself in an unpredictable way. Shortly before the film’s Cannes premiere, Rasoulof was sentenced again, this time to eight years in prison. Instead, he fled Iran and arrived at the festival screening to a hero’s welcome. The heartbreak and hope woven throughout “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” is vibrant but also bittersweet, given that Rasoulof had to flee his homeland for speaking the truth about the oppressive regime seeking to silence him.

“The Seed of the Sacred Fig” may open with Iman, but ultimately the focus turns to Najmeh and her daughters, who are presented as the possibility of liberating Iran from its patriarchal and regressive government. Rezvan and Sana are young and intelligent enough to recognize the cruelty of the regime, making Najmeh’s changing state of mind the emotional center of the film. Golestani shines as a woman clinging to her illusions – about a wife’s place, about women’s second-class status – because she never allowed herself to think otherwise. The actor, like all the other actors in “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” who took serious risks, makes this awakening moving. Najmeh thinks she’s saving her daughters – they might end up freeing her.