As I immerse myself in the intricate tapestry of “The Seed of the Sacred Fig,” I can’t help but feel the pulse of a political thriller coursing through it. In the movie, I play Iman, a judge for Iran’s Revolutionary Court, who finds himself questioning the integrity of my family: my wife Najmeh and our daughters Rezvan and Sana. The production process itself was cloaked in secrecy, as director and writer Mohammad Rasoulof, a man no stranger to prison walls due to his outspoken criticism of the regime, chose to keep a low profile, fearing discovery while working with a cast and crew. The film’s narrative and its creation share an undercurrent of tension that has only grown stronger since the world learned of its existence at the 2024 Cannes announcement.
In May, Rasoulof left Iran on foot and sought refuge in Germany, where his film was chosen as their entry for Best International Feature Film at the 97th Academy Awards; three of the young actresses also moved to Europe. However, those who remained in Iran faced harassment and charges for working on the film. Rasoulof frequently speaks about his colleagues with a sense of pride and admiration, especially when discussing the courageous women and girls involved in the Woman, Life, Freedom movement. He was inspired by their actions while he was imprisoned in Evin Prison in 2022, which forms the backdrop for The Seed of the Sacred Fig. Through an interpreter, Rasoulof said, “I listened carefully to what these exceptionally brave young women had to say.
In the movie, Iman’s secrets and those of his family are concealed, suggesting a pattern among people living under Iran’s regime. Over time, I’ve observed how authorities – be it censors, interrogators, or judges – maintain a sense of secrecy even in their personal lives. This constant need to hide one’s true self is a common trait in such societies, where totalitarianism forces everyone to adapt and conceal their identities for survival. The intrusive nature of the state into citizens’ lives is evident. For Iman, the story lies not only in his secrets but also in the tension these secrets create within his family relationships.
After being released from Evin Prison, did you have the chance to connect with any of the protesters from the Woman, Life, Freedom demonstrations? Upon my release, I was eager to learn more about the events unfolding on the streets and sought out videos documenting these protests. Many of these clips were included in the film, showcasing the incredible bravery of numerous young women who passionately demanded the right to express their identities freely to both the state and society. I had the opportunity to interview several young female protesters after my release, which provided me with valuable insights into this dynamic generation that had left such a profound impact on everyone. These encounters served as a foundation for the development of the storyline.
The movie incorporates authentic footage from the Woman, Life, Freedom protests in Iran, which depicts women being physically assaulted, harassed, forced into vans, and even some lying motionless on the street. Can you explain how this footage was gathered for use in the film?
During these protests, journalists were prohibited from attending and recording events. Instead, it was the protesters who captured moments on their phones and anonymously shared them online. A team of my collaborators collected these videos and categorized them based on their content. We closely examined each video to determine its relevance for the film. Once I decided that this footage was essential to include, we focused on using more well-known videos that would provoke a powerful emotional response. This decision was made in conjunction with the editor, Andrew Bird. Some material was readily available on social media and could be downloaded directly. In total, there were approximately four hours of footage used.
The actresses portraying Rezvan, Sana, and Sadaf revealed they were unaware of the director when first approached about the movie. They inquired about your casting approach and whether particular actors had been selected for specific roles.
I had originally written the character Iman for Missagh, an actor I’d previously collaborated with and who was eager to play this role. However, I was unsure who would be suitable for the other characters. The casting process proved challenging as I couldn’t directly approach the actors I had in mind. On the other hand, it became somewhat easier due to the impact of the Woman, Life, Freedom movement in Iran, which allowed many individuals from various societal backgrounds to express themselves openly and declare their intentions. This facilitated my ability to engage with a larger pool of potential candidates. I encountered numerous colleagues who had made it clear that they would no longer participate in films requiring compulsory hijab or censorship that hindered authentic self-expression. I recognized there was a group of individuals I could initiate conversations with.
In my quest to create an authentic onscreen family, I enlisted four colleagues to aid in casting. Leveraging their expertise in both film and theater industries, they generated a extensive list of prospective actors. From this vast pool, we narrowed down our choices based on who seemed brave enough to tackle such a task. We scrutinized photos of all the actors side by side to determine if they could convincingly portray a family. My makeup artist, Mahmoud Dehghani, offered valuable advice throughout this process. After several eliminations due to various reasons, we were left with a smaller shortlist. We conducted makeup trials with numerous actors, many of whom remained unaware that I was the director, believing they were being considered for a short film. Eventually, we made our decisions regarding the father, mother, and youngest daughter, Sana. However, finding the eldest daughter, Rezvan, proved challenging as options dwindled. We needed a unique talent to complete our believable family portrait. Despite several potential candidates, they ultimately shied away from the project. At the last possible moment, Mahsa Rostami joined us and turned out to be an exceptional choice. Initially, she was unaware of my identity as the director. Upon reading the script, she confessed to being deeply moved yet apprehensive about the role. Ultimately, she chose to follow her desire to participate in the film rather than succumbing to her fear.
Setareh, Mahsa, and Niousha have departed Iran. In Cannes, you exhibited images of Missagh and Soheila. Are these two individuals still in Iran?
When the news about the movie’s selection at Cannes was announced, the government exerted immense pressure on anyone from the cast and crew who remained within Iran. They were interrogated repeatedly, the cinematographer’s office was searched, the sound recordist’s passport was taken away. The authorities did everything they could to create overwhelming stress for the cast and crew. Their aim was to force them to ask me to pull the film from the competition. However, they never did that. Instead, they kept me informed about their situation.
Following the Cannes Film Festival, an unusual sequence of events unfolded in Iran. The president met an unfortunate end in a helicopter accident. Since then, there’s been a tense escalation between Iran and Israel, with each exchanging missiles. It seems as though the government has been preoccupied with more pressing matters. Eventually, things simmered down a bit, allowing Missagh to depart for Australia where he’s now performing onstage. The sound recordist also managed to leave the country. However, the Director of Photography remains in Iran. Soheila and several designers are still there as well. Interestingly, Soheila has been granted bail. All those involved in the film production are currently facing court proceedings, particularly the main cast and crew, for three primary allegations: spreading corruption and immorality, due to the actresses’ hairstyles being visible, and two additional charges that essentially accuse them of threatening national security and disseminating anti-regime propaganda. We await the final verdict. Notably, anyone still in Iran is prohibited from working or leaving the country.
As a movie reviewer hailing from Iran, I find an “Iranian story” to be one that resonates deeply with my upbringing and experiences in this fascinating country. It’s a narrative woven from the fabric of our unique society, a place I hold close to my heart, having been nurtured and shaped by it. Just as a lens can offer a distinct perspective on the world, so too does the language we speak, influencing our viewpoints and thought processes. An Iranian story is a prism through which we can share our rich cultural heritage with the rest of the globe.
Instead of working by sending your assistant directors out with a shot list every day, I chose to direct remotely. With livestreaming technology available, I had a monitor in front of me, allowing me to guide the cast and crew in real time from a distance. To ensure that filming could be completed efficiently under the restrictions, we established three key protocols:
1. Keeping a small cast and crew while maintaining production value.
2. Using minimal equipment similar to what is typically used for student films.
3. Ensuring I would not physically be present on set, as my presence might reveal what was being filmed. For example, we used fake filming permits for exterior shots. If I had been associated with the production, it would have been obvious that these permits were false. Thanks to technological advancements, I could effectively direct remotely, although it was undeniably more challenging than being physically present on set. I had two assistants on set who acted as my liaisons to communicate with various departments. One was responsible for the technical aspects such as image, sound, and production, while the other focused on guiding the actors’ performances.
Would you be able to discuss with me about the decorations in Iman’s office and the cardboard cutouts lining the building’s hallways, similar to those of the Revolutionary Guard commander Qasem Soleimani? I must admit, it’s quite peculiar.
It’s not surprising to me that those cutouts look familiar to an Iranian person. I would attribute the design of these spaces to someone or something other than myself. These aesthetics aren’t ours; they’re characteristic of totalitarianism. People who have visited the judiciary building next to Evin Prison will recognize this style, as my prosecutor’s office had walls adorned similarly with posters and pictures. Anyone who has been in that building and that room would immediately identify it. The reason for their inclusion in the film is not just to recreate reality, given that we simply replicated the room I experienced, but also to capture this moment in history when such a place still exists. As for the cardboard cutouts, they weren’t designed by us; instead, we purchased them. These are propaganda tools of the regime that are placed in official spaces, serving to subconsciously influence people. They are a real part of the regime’s visual narrative.
As a cinema enthusiast, allow me to share an observation that’s been weighing on my mind. During my interrogation, I was kept blindfolded, so I never had the chance to lay eyes on that space. Yet, when I faced the prosecutor, it felt eerily familiar as I was grilled with questions identical to those posed by my initial interrogator. This could happen months later, after a stint in solitary confinement. The time gap between the two interrogations can be quite substantial. Despite their access to all my files and knowledge of my previous answers, I found myself answering again, signing each one. It’s an exhausting, disquieting ordeal that stretches on for what seems like forever.
In the same period when both you and your long-time collaborator Jafar Panahi, another filmmaker, were imprisoned amidst the uprisings, you’ve mentioned that his advice to you about making this movie was simply to begin and he would forget about his apprehensions. Was his counsel accurate – did your fears dissipate as the project progressed?
Yes, they did eventually. [Laughs.]
Did you show him the movie? He managed to view it on a large screen in Paris, after which he called me, sharing some useful comments. [Laughs.] It’s just frustrating that due to our circumstances, we don’t get to chat much. During filming, we have to move quickly and there’s always the feeling of “if only I had more time,” and I wish I could have sought opinions and advice from others.
Regarding your interview on There Is No Evil, you expressed dissatisfaction with the final product, stating that both you and your team didn’t feel completely satisfied as making a film involves exerting so much energy to work in secret and avoid censorship. In hindsight, is there anything about this film that you wish could have been done differently? Do your feelings remain the same as they were then?
In response, you shared that it’s not just about what you would do differently with There Is No Evil, but rather expressing a wish for more time and opportunities to improve various aspects of the production. You mentioned that working on this film was much more challenging than There Is No Evil due to its length and complexity. The production felt like constantly being on the edge, with each day’s progress feeling precarious and every potential interruption making it seem as if all efforts up until that point were wasted. Only when 100% of the film was completed did you feel that it wasn’t a waste of effort.
In the movie, the central conflict arises when Iman suspects one of his daughters has stolen a gun, which they vehemently deny. However, it’s Sana who eventually confirms this by revealing she had it hidden all along. Could you explain the thought process behind making Sana the one to take her father’s gun? It was quite unexpected.
In essence, I wanted to capture a similar sense of shock and disbelief that occurred within the prison system, where we were utterly amazed by the actions of the younger generation. This element needed to be woven into the film’s narrative, even if it defied traditional storytelling or cinematic norms. The reason for Sana’s actions had to be convincing and relevant to the development of the story. And that’s where the character of Sadaf, a friend of the girls, becomes crucial. On one hand, she symbolizes the brutal oppression inflicted by the state, but on the other, she demonstrates how a teenager like Sana could make such a drastic decision, triggered by a powerful emotional response – witnessing what the state was capable of doing to her friends.
Was the scene of writing the chase through the ruins composed before discovering the actual ruins in Kharanaq, or was it the other way around? When I witnessed the shot of Iman tumbling through the ruins and being covered in dust, with only his hand and his aqeeq ring visible, I couldn’t help but think of the Persian saying “khak be sareht.” Was this a deliberate choice to evoke that phrase as it pertains to what happens to Iman?
I actually wrote the scene first, then sought the suitable location. However, I composed it because in the concluding act of the film, the cinematic language shifts. It transitions into a symbolic realm, which is crucial to discover visual ways to express that. In a way, it’s as if I’m superimposing the narrative of this family onto a historical backdrop. There should be an association between Iranian history and the ups and downs, as well as the experiences, of this family. As for “khak be sareht,” no, that wasn’t the intention. It’s more about warmth and softness, [laughs]
[Laughs.] In my family, we don’t usually express it this way, so it’s intriguing to see variations in usage. What I was trying to convey with that closing remark is the idea that traditional and outdated mindsets will succumb due to the demands, desires, and needs of the younger generation. The patriarchy is collapsing, crashing, sinking. However, this doesn’t mean it’s vanished completely. The image of the hand rising from the dust symbolizes that such events might still occur, suggesting that it’s not entirely gone yet.
The climax resembles a suspenseful horror flick in its rhythm and cinematography, and the protruding hand reminded me of scenes from a zombie movie. Furthermore, it’s plausible that Iman might return along with everything he symbolizes. [Nods and gives a thumbs-up.]
Revolutionary Guard commander Qasem Soleimani was assassinated by U.S. drone attack in 2020 and is considered a martyr by the Iranian government and various Iranians.
Translates to “throw dirt on your head,” sometimes used to the effect of “may you be buried.”
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2025-01-11 00:54