In the roughly 150 years since the medium of the moving image was first put on screen, plenty of filmmakers have dealt with infamously difficult circumstances to execute their visions. Many of cinema’s most revered projects were, in fact, well-documented production disasters — consider the treacherous conditions of “Apocalypse Now” or the ballooning budget of “Jaws.” Still, you’d be hard-pressed to find a film created with more at stake for its cast and crew than Iranian director Mohamed Rasoulof’s newest work, “The Seed of the Sacred Fig.”
After the film was announced to be premiering at the Cannes Film Festival in May 2024, Rasoulof was sentenced by the Iranian government to a punishment of eight years in prison, a flogging and a fine. In response, Rasoulof — who served multiple prison sentences between 2020 and 2022 and had his passport confiscated in 2017 due to his previous films — fled to Germany to complete the film and escape the regime, knowing he would likely never return. Shot in complete secrecy with a small cast and crew on location in Iran, “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” opens with a newly promoted state investigator named Iman, played by Missagh Zareh. Initially, this promotion to an important bureaucratic role is presented as a moment of great fortune for Iman and his family, as his wife Najmeh, played by Soheila Golestani, tells him that his “prayer was finally answered.” However, with growing civil unrest in response to the death of Mahsa Amini and the actions of Iran’s authoritarian government, Iman soon becomes the target of both personal and professional pressure.
In his new position, Iman is required to authorize death sentences for protestors of the regime without even considering whether the punishment is justifiable. At home, he comes into conflict with his two teenage daughters, Rezvan, played by Mahsa Rostami, and Sana, played by Setareh Maleki, who are horrified by the violence and injustice they see on social media.
As the film looks to explore Iman’s corruption from the inside out, Rasoulof focuses his story not on the morally questionable investigator himself, but instead on the people who surround him. We see his daughters watch the protest through the screens of their smartphones, caught between their father’s support for the government and their peers’ mobilization against it. Additionally, their mother is forced to reckon with many of the same questions. Though Najmeh is fiercely devoted to her husband and looks to defend him at all costs, even she begins to struggle with the nation’s moral corruption.
Though all three women contribute strong performances in their leading roles, Golestani is a clear standout. In one particularly engrossing sequence in the film’s first half, she gives first aid to Sadaf, played by Niousha Akhshi: A friend of her daughter who is hit by a stray bullet during a protest. As she confronts the terror of the situation, Golestani’s performance, combined with Rasoulof’s expert control and pacing of the scene, delivers one of multiple chilling moments in the film’s 168-minute run time.
As the film progresses, the tension within the family continues to grow. First, various disputes arise between the daughters — particularly Rezvan, the elder sister — and their parents. Then, when Iman’s state-issued weapon goes missing, all hell officially breaks loose. From this point, the film begins to shift, first in tone and then in location. As the family departs the city to Iman’s remote hometown out of fear for their safety, the slow-burn drama of the situation disappears, and the picture becomes a high-octane psychological thriller. The final scene — a situation somewhat akin to the endings of films like “The Shining” and “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” — takes place amongst the rubble of uninhabited buildings in a setting that recalls much of Abbas Kiarostami’s “Taste of Cherry.” It’s a gripping conclusion that, like the rest of the film, keeps audiences fighting the urge to blink in fear of missing a single frame.
If there is one drawback to the construction of “The Seed of the Sacred Fig,” it is the disjointment between the film’s first and second halves. While the latter portion does represent a natural progression from the first 90 minutes, the overt shift in pacing and direction is somewhat difficult to grasp. The third act is as engrossing as the rest of the film, but the departure from calculated drama to something resembling a thriller prohibits the development of a singular cohesive tone.
Nonetheless, Rasoulof’s entry is as politically essential as it is cinematically impressive. As audiences interact with the film, they are confronted not only with a shockingly authentic representation of the corrupt Iranian system but also with social media footage taken from Instagram and YouTube during the 2022 demonstrations. Thus, watching “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” is the most accessible way for many of us to interact with and understand the experience of an oppressed people.
With this year’s awards season predicted to prioritize traditional American vehicles such as “Anora” and “The Brutalist,” “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” must not go unnoticed. While the film’s publicity during the Cannes cycle was promising and impactful, the emphasis on getting audiences to see the film must continue. It is a work that showcases cinema’s unique ability to tell poignant stories, and it deserves to be seen by as many eyes as possible.
