Film Review: “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” — House Arrest in Iran
By Steve Erickson
A corrupt media lies at the core of The Seed of the Sacred Fig‘s powerful condemnation of Iran’s politics, particularly their treatment of women, often in unexpected ways.
The Seed of the Sacred Fig, directed by Mohammad Rasoulof. Screening on November 2 at 12 p.m. at the Brattle Theatre as part of Independent Film Festival of Boston Fall Focus. Opening in New York on November 22.
The Seed of the Sacred Fig risks being overshadowed by the reality behind its creation. All of director’s Mohammad Rasoulof’s films have been banned in Iran. His colleague Jafar Panahi, who has kept working after being legally barred from filmmaking, developed a reputation as a dissident director, but Rasoulof was a rebel from the start. His second feature, Iron Island, expresses what he thinks of the Iranian government: it’s an allegory about life on an oil tanker floating off the Persian gulf, ruled by an authoritarian captain. Predictably, the filmmaker’s politics have engendered severe legal consequences, including an arrest in 2010, seven months in prison during 2022 and 2023 and a period living in exile in Germany in between. Just as the Cannes Film Festival announced its selection of The Seed of the Sacred Fig, Rasoulof was sentenced to eight years in jail. The director’s latest film was shot under illegal circumstances, with Rasoulof having to select his cast and crew in secrecy. (The first image we see: a text reading “this film was shot in secret.”) Rasoulof has had his passport confiscated by Iran; he escaped to Germany, where he once again lives. (The film’s post-production was completed there.) Recent Iranian movies, such as Critical Zone and Terrestrial Verses, have grown more politically daring but, despite the fact that Rasoulof has earned wide acclaim at Western film festivals, he now faces the prospect of being unable to live and work in his homeland, unless something radically changes.
The Seed of the Sacred Fig is another allegory about the condition of Iranian life. Here, a family serves as a microcosm of the state. Iman (Misagh Zare) is a civil servant in the prosecutor’s office. The family benefits financially from his promotion to a position as an investigator, where he’s expected to sign off on death sentences for political prisoners. His wife Najmeh (Soheila Golestani) is also a true believer in the Iranian state’s ideology. Najmeh squashes any of the rebellious streaks their two daughters, Rezvan (Maha Rostami) and Sana (Setareh Maleki), dare display. The young women are much more progressive than their parents, even more so once the “Women, Life, Freedom” protests begin and some of the girls’ friends are arrested. Then Iman is given a gun, and it mysteriously disappears. Facing a long jail sentence because of its loss, his authoritarian behavior grows because he suspects his daughters of stealing the weapon. He confines them in their apartment. (The female characters do not wear hijab indoors, which is realistic — though it is illegal to display women’s hair in Iranian cinema.)
To say the least, the symbolism of The Seed of the Sacred Fig is blunt. The family’s apartment becomes a prison. The dialogue points out what Iman’s name means in Islam. He embodies dual positions of authority: Iman is the family’s controlling patriarch and a representative of the state’s unquestioned power over women and others who question its authority. Complex characters are not the strong point of allegory, but Nanjeh stands as the story’s beating heart, keeping the proceedings from becoming too one-dimensional. She shares Iman’s politics, but Nanjeh doesn’t share his cold, careerist personality. In a gruesome act of impromptu surgery, she removes buckshot from the mutilated face of a student who has been blinded in one eye; she is driven by kindness despite her opposition to the girl’s actions. (Shot in confrontational, and gory, close-up, this scene mirrors one in which she trims and dyes her husband’s beard.) For her, humanity to others transcends politics; ironically, as an older woman, her options are no less limited than those of her daughters. Golestani’s facial expressions and body language suggest a dawning realization : she is beginning to realize that right-wing authoritarianism isn’t as ethical as she has been led to believe it to be.
For Rasoulof, the cable TV news shows constantly blaring in the background of the household are to blame for brainwashing Nanjeh and others. A corrupt media lies at the core of the film’s condemnation of Iran’s politics, often in unexpected ways. Rezvan and Sana ignore the tube, choosing to watch images of protesters’ corpses and the brutal violence that is meted out to them on social media. (These genuine videos, including footage of more than one murder, are rough going.) The young woman chat with each other as they watch these grisly scenes, listening to audio on headphones. Meanwhile, their parents remain glued to state-run TV, ignoring more accurate sources of information uploaded by ordinary Iranians. There’s the suggestion that Nanjeh’s politics would be more progressive — if she didn’t spend so much time absorbing the official narrative. Iman benefits in a more concrete way from propping up the status quo. Eventually, once the protests and the state violence are underway, even this cocooned family can hear what’s going on outside. (Shades of The Zone of Interest!) Later in the film, one of the girls sets up a speaker outside of the home and uses it as a means to psychologically torment Iman. The narrative’s closing images return to the protests — but instead of a succession of snuff videos, they depict women’s resilience in the face of brutal adversity.
As compelling as all this is, as drama The Seed of The Sacred Fig is diffuse and disjointed. While the film is never boring, one feels every one of its 166 minutes. Thankfully, the last hour speeds up the pace considerably, the story line taking on the overtones of a thriller, including a climactic chase scene. Iman transforms into a villain who, in terms of sheer malevolence, could challenge Michael Myers or Freddy Kruger. At this point, it feels as if Rasoulof is suturing two different films together: one set in Teheran, the other in the desert. Yet this split doesn’t hurt the movie; in fact, it amplifies the tension suggested at its beginning. The suspense of imprisonment is released in a terrifying domestic scenario. By its end, the sum of The Seed of The Sacred Fig makes more impact than its parts. And that outcome makes artistic and political sense. A well-made literary drama about the conflict within Iranian society, such as Asghar Farhadi’s A Separation, falls short of articulating the monstrousness of people’s plight, particularly for women. Think about it: what kind of film would a renegade director — after witnessing the start of the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement from behind bars — make?
Steve Erickson writes about film and music for Gay City News, Slant Magazine, the Nashville Scene, Trouser Press, and other outlets. He also produces electronic music under the tag callinamagician. His latest album, Bells and Whistles, was released in January 2024, and is available to stream here.
Tagged: "The Seed of the Sacred Fig", Iranian film, Mohammad Rasoulof