The Seed of the Sacred Fig: Tense Iranian portrayal of a family torn apart by Mahsa Amini protests
There is an almost unwatchable scene early on in Iranian director Mohammad Rasoulof’s The Seed of the Sacred Fig, in which he shows up-close the horror of what the violent repression of the 2022 uprising meant for the young people caught up in it.
Shot in secret in Tehran, the camera unflinchingly shows us the impact of buckshot on Nioushi Akhshi's face as her friend’s mother carefully removes each pellet from lacerated flesh and eye.
Such wounds were commonplace in late 2022, when thousands took to the streets to protest the death in police custody of Mahsa Amini, a 22-year-old Iranian Kurdish woman, for alleged violations of the hijab law.
As life follows art, the actors playing the film’s two sisters, Mahsa Rostami and Setareh Maleki, and Akhshi were forced to flee Iran after secretly acting in Rasoulof's latest film, which won the Jury's Special Prize at Cannes last year.
What does the Iranian regime look like from inside a family where the father is a judicial investigator whose job is to decide the fate of those caught in the maw of the state’s repressive machinery?
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That is the central dynamic of this politically charged drama that immerses you in the life of a middle-class Tehran family as they go shopping, eat dinner, watch TV and squabble over sleepovers.
The film is set at the outbreak of the 2022 uprising, and Rasoulof makes dramatic use of online footage of real-life police brutality and street protests, as seen through the eyes of the two sisters on their phones, as they watch the movement being crushed from their Tehran apartment.
The joys of immersion into Iranian social and political life are almost enough to make this a standout film, but the weight of the fury against the system give it a powerful urgency
All the while they try to hide their sympathies and support for the protests from their conservative mother, played beautifully by Soheila Golestani, who until almost the end remains loyal to her state bureaucrat husband.
Remaining in the shadows is the father, Iman, a wonderful Missagh Zareh, whose impassive, soft face and sad eyes exude such a range of repressed feelings.
He is a cog in the Islamic Republic's judicial system, carrying the heavy weight of the executions and repression that is its daily business, portrayed in the humdrum reality of his office politics and faltering attempts at career advancement.
Is a better life and an official flat worth signing a death warrant? That is the price Iman must pay for advancement.
The appearance of a gun in the first act of a drama means it must be used by the third, as Chekhov famously said.
Its disappearance in the second act is the spark for the family to begin falling apart, as Iman begins to suspect each one of his daughters. The mother, Najmeh, has already lied to him by keeping secret her help for their daughter’s student friend who is caught up in the protests.
Divided over her loyalties and the pressure to help the wounded girl, she ultimately pushes her to leave the flat where she is hiding out, leading to her arrest.
Later, Najmeh uses her husband’s judicial contacts to try to find the missing girl who has disappeared in detention.
Escaping the patriarch
At this point the theme of repressive patriarchy comes full circle as Iman turns his suspicions on his own family, subjecting them to a terrifying interrogation at the hands of a fellow investigator.
After Iman is doxxed online by protesters, the family flee Tehran, only to be followed by anti-government activists, leading to a tense car chase.
In the country, the mood changes from paranoia to nostalgia for a comforting past of old cassette tapes, home movies, and the stark landscapes of a crumbling, forgotten Iran.
However, the happiness is short-lived as Iman demands the truth about the gun from his wife and daughters, accusing each in turn, while the youngest escapes, leading to a final semi-comic chase through the muddy ruins.
The joys of immersion into Iranian social and political life are almost enough to make this a standout film, but the weight of the politics and fury against the system gives it a powerful urgency that stays with the viewer.
Ultimately, the real-life repression the film portrays came knocking for the director.
A third of the way through filming, Rasoulof received news he would be sentenced to eight years in prison and flogging from Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Court for making public statements and films considered “examples of collusion with the intention of committing a crime against the country’s security”.
Despite the charges, he managed to finish shooting the film, then used contacts he had made while serving time in prison for his previous films to get out of the country and claim asylum in Germany.
“All these characters were inspired by real people,” the director said at the Cannes film festival in May.
“All the scenes come from real situations. Even all the people who have known the secret services in Iran will recognise these places, these corridors. The story is very, very close to reality.”
Rasoulef is known for his visually stunning, humanistic portrayals of Iranians navigating the authoritarian system, including Iron Island (2005), Manuscripts Don't Burn (2013) and There Is No Evil (2020). For the latter, he won the Golden Bear at the 2020 Berlin Film Festival.
Seed of the Sacred Fig has been nominated as Germany's entry for the best international film at the 2025 Oscars.
The Seed of the Sacred Fig goes on general release in the UK in February.
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