The Seed of the Sacred Fig
We often read about filmmakers being brave or daring, but Mohammad Rasoulof’s The Seed of the Sacred Fig is courageous in a way that makes everything else seem half-hearted. In 2010 Rasoulof (b.1972) was arrested by the Iranian authorities for filming without a permit, a crime that earned him a year in prison, although the original sentence was for six years. He served another seven months in 2022, after signing a petition critical of the government. By early 2024, after three prison terms, the authorities had taken a hard look at Rasoulof’s films and political activities, deciding he should be imprisoned for eight years, flogged, and have his property confiscated.
The director received a letter informing him of the decision two months into the filming of The Seed of the Sacred Fig. If his previous movies were judged worthy of an eight-year sentence, he knew the response to this one would probably spell the end of his career, if not his life. He filed an appeal, which won him another two months of freedom while work on the new film continued in the strictest secrecy. When he was informed that his appeal had been unsuccessful, Rasoulof fled Iran, but the journey was so arduous it would be another month before he arrived safely in Germany.
Today Rasoulof and three young actresses who appear in the film, are living in Europe. The two senior actors, Soheila Golestani and Missagh Zareh remain in Tehran, where they are banned from travelling, and subject to harassment and interrogation. Everyone is awaiting the outcome of the 2025 Academy Awards, to see how the government will respond if Rasoulof’s film wins the Oscar for Best International Feature, its main rivals being Emilia Pérez and I’m Still Here.
We’ve grown accustomed to the excellence of Iranian cinema, which has produced a long line of films made with small budgets, under extreme duress. We’ve also become familiar with way local authorities are outraged by stories of basic moral dilemmas that would barely raise an eyebrow in the west. An example from earlier this year was Behtash Sanaeeha and Maryam Moghadam’s My Favourite Cake, which tells the story of a lonely widow who invites an elderly taxi driver home for dinner.
The directors have been banned from travelling and making films, and may yet be subject to further prosecution. Their worst offence by all accounts, was to show the lead actress at home without her hijab.
If My Favourite Cake is critical of Iranian life in a mild, oblique fashion, The Seed of the Sacred Fig is breathtaking in its anger and directness. Watching the film, I could hardly believe what I was seeing. The story seems designed to confront the government with its own brutality and hypocrisy, exploding the conventional style of Iranian filmmaking, which tiptoes around inflammatory subjects, hinting at issues that can’t be discussed. Not only does Rasoulof say the unsayable, he virtually shouts: “J’accuse!”
The title refers to the seeds of a fig that sprout and wrap themselves around the main trunk of a host tree, often strangling it. It suggests how the revolution that removed the Shah in 1979 is now throttling the country it liberated. It also refers to the family in the film, and indeed Iran today, where a younger generation threatens to rise up and overthrow the elderly autocrats that wield supreme power.
This is not a likely scenario at the beginning of the movie, where we meet Iman (Zareh), who has just been appointed an investigator for Iran’s Revolutionary Court. It’s an important step on the way to achieving his ambition of becoming a judge. His wife, Najmeh (Golestani) is immensely proud of him, and eager for the benefits his new position might bring, including a bigger apartment where their two teenage daughters could have rooms of their own.
Those daughters, Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami), who is of college age, and the slightly younger, Sana (Setareh Maleki), are devoted to their parents, and pleased by their father’s good fortune, although they have little conception of his actual work.
It doesn’t take long before Iman finds that his new role brings distressing new responsibilities. With protests breaking out all over Iran following the death in custody of a young woman, Mahsa Amini, the authorities are cracking down on their opponents. Iman finds to his horror that he’s expected to sign convictions and death warrants without even reading the relevant reports. It offends his sense of integrity and his religious convictions, but his colleague tells him if he doesn’t do it, he’ll be sacked, losing all chance of advancement. His replacement will sign the warrants.
Not only is Iman’s conscience bruised by these gruesome duties, he’s in danger if identified as a government operative, and is given a handgun to defend himself. Meanwhile, his daughters are watching the protests unfold on social media and are completely on-side with the students. When Rezvan’s best friend, Sadaf (Niousha Akhshi) is injured, it creates a crisis at home. Common decency demands they help the girl, but Najmeh is only too aware that Sadaf’s presence in the flat could create enormous trouble for Iman.
As the protests escalate, Iman feels ever more disturbed and pressured. When his address is revealed on social media, every moment takes on a threatening aspect. He peers out of windows, looks anxiously at motorists in nearby cars, confiscates his family’s phones. Worst of all, the gun seems to have disappeared and none of his family claim to know anything about it. Menaced by unseen enemies on all sides, Iman descends into paranoia, not believing he can trust anybody – even his wife and daughters. His only option is to flee, taking his family on a long drive to his hometown, where he hopes to find safety. But by now his fears have hardened into a form of madness, where he can no longer draw a line between his role as husband and father, and his job as a prosecutor.
The Seed of the Sacred Fig is a long film, and of that time is spent slowly increasing the sense of anxiety Iman feels, as protests rage in the streets and hatred for the government reaches boiling point. It’s a portrait of a good man broken down and corrupted by the system he is committed to serving. His coveted job is also a form of imprisonment, allowing him no room to think for himself. If he fails in any regard, he knows he will join those he has sent to gaol. It’s a devastating illustration of T.W. Adorno’s maxim that one cannot be a success in a society that is a failure.
Iman’s personal dilemma is an obvious metaphor for the entire nation – a country held in check by a regime that cloaks its authoritarianism in the guise of religious orthodoxy. To the coming generation it’s a mockery of both society and God that condemns them to isolation from the rest of the world. It’s particularly bad for women, who have come to view the obligatory wearing of the hijab as the supreme symbol of their oppression.
Rasoulof emphasises the role of the mobile phone, as both an instrument of surveillance and of potential liberation. As Iman’s daughters sit in their room watching the protests, seeing the violence the police inflict on protesters, they become determined enemies of the government. Although all tyrannical regimes nowadays make maximum use of new technology, the ethos of the Iranian theocracy is so medieval it seems to be in perpetual conflict with the connectedness of the contemporary world.
By the end of the movie a tense social realist drama has evolved – or devolved – into an incipient horror story, reminiscent of The Shining (1980). What makes Rasoulof’s film more disturbing than Kubrick’s, is that it’s not simply the tale of a family and a deranged patriarch, it portrays an entire nation and a protest movement that has seen hundreds of people killed or executed, tens of thousands arrested. I’ve thought long and hard, but I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a more fearless exercise in filmmaking. It’s a movie that stays lodged in one’s mind because of the shocking disjunction between the human story of Iman and his family, and the Orwellian nightmare of everyday life in Iran today. Regardless of what happens on Oscar night, this is a film that deserves to win every award.
The Seed of the Sacred Fig
Written & directed by Mohammad Rasoulof
Starring: Soheila Golestani, Missagh Zareh, Mahsa Rostami, Setareh Maleki, Niousha Akhshi, Rea Akhlaghirad, Shiva Ordooie
France/Germany M, 168 mins