Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Mohammad Rasoulof
Starring: Misagh Zare, Soheila Golestani, Mahsa Rostami, Setareh Maleki, Niousha
Akhshi, Reza Akhlaghi, Shiva Ordooei
They may not like to admit, but many people become more conservative
once they have kids. A responsibility to greater society is replaced by
a more immediate responsibility towards family. Beliefs are set aside,
ethics packed away in the attic. Children are told to obey authority,
even if their parents secretly hold such authority in contempt. Society
evolves by younger generations questioning their elders rather than
blindly following the established order, but many young people pay a
price for standing up to authority, and no parent wants their child to
become a victim of their principles. And so oppression continues.
Rebellious Iranian writer/director Mohammad Rasoulof opens his latest incendiary work with an analogy that correlates
to how the youth of his country (specifically young women) are strangled
by the oppression of their elders: we're told how the sacred fig tree
grows to a certain point before strangling the life from its own
roots.
Rasoulof's previous narrative feature, 2020's There Is No Evil, was an anthology of stories examining capital punishment in
Iran. The Seed of the Sacred Fig continues this theme, centred on a middle class family torn apart
when the patriarch, Iman (Missagh Zareh), receives a work
promotion that requires him to literally sign the death warrants of
dozens of young people.
Having spent 21 years toiling as a lawyer, Iman is delighted to find
himself promoted to the role of an investigating judge in Iran's
revolutionary court. But he soon realises that he is expected to simply
sign judgements without being made privy to any evidence. The ostensibly
liberal Iman is disturbed when one such case carries with it the death
sentence, but his wife, Najmeh (Soheila Golestani), has her
sights set on a new dishwasher and convinces her husband to set aside
his morals and think of his family.
Iman and Najmeh's daughters - college student Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami) and high schooler Sana (Setareh Maleki) - are more rigid in
their beliefs, and when anti-hijab protests break out across the country
they find themselves caught up in the swell of feminist fervour,
secretly watching social media footage of young women putting their
lives on the line and being beaten in return.
Despite Najmeh trying to discourage her daughters from becoming
involved in the protests, Rezvan brings home a friend, Sadaf (Niousha Akhshi), with a face full of buckshot. Najmeh performs some impromptu surgery
but refuses to allow Sadaf to seek refuge in her home, leading to
further tensions with her daughters. The atmosphere in the home grows
even more tense when the gun issued to Iman disappears and he suspects
the women of his family are turning against him.
It's often asked how everyday Germans could have gone along with
Nazism, either taking part or turning a blind eye, and the old line
about evil triumphing when good people do nothing is trotted
out. The Seed of the Sacred Fig suggests that nothing is that simple, that evil triumphs when
people who believe they're good try to protect their families. Iman may
work for a theocracy, but it's clear he doesn't actually agree with its
orders. He arrives home from work each day looking a little more ragged,
weighed down by the toll of setting aside his principles for the sake of
his wife and children. Deep down, Najmeh likely agrees with the
protestors, but she's so terrified of her daughters being harmed that
she puts aside any hopes of a better future for Rezvan and Sana. Like
many parents, she would rather her kids be safe than happy. Nothing aids
fascism like the fears of concerned parents.
It would be easy to dismiss Iman and Najmeh as "bad people," but how
many of us can honestly say we would put the greater good ahead of the
immediate safety of our children? We understand where these parents are
coming from, but we still side with their rebellious children, who are
young enough to have the luxury of not having to worry about their own
kids. We want Rezvan and Sana, and all the young women of Iran, to rise
up against the oppression they endure as second class citizens. But
they're not our daughters. Would we encourage our kids to join a protest
if we knew they would be met with bullets?
The Seed of the Sacred Fig ends in a specific tragedy,
but the real tragedy is already in place before the movie begins. Iman
is already the patriarch of a broken family; he just doesn't realise it.
He believes he can work for a misogynistic state during the day and come
home to his wife and daughters each evening and expect them to accept
this for the rest of their lives. Iman doesn't realise how he's spoken
about in hushed tones by his womenfolk, and if he did it would probably
break his heart. We get the feeling that he doesn't want to live like
this, but he doesn't see how things can be any different.
Unlike his protagonist, Rasoulof wilfully puts himself in the firing
line of his country's theocratic leaders, currently living in exile in
Germany having been sentenced to eight years in prison and a flogging
for daring to make The Seed of the Sacred Fig. Some of his cast and crew haven't been so lucky and are now paying
the price for their involvement in the film. Rasoulof must have known
that he was endangering anyone who worked for him yet went ahead and
made the film regardless because he believed he was serving the greater
good. Whether this makes him a better person than Iman is a difficult
question to answer, but I suspect it's one the filmmaker asks himself
every day.
The Seed of the Sacred Fig is
in UK/ROI cinemas from February 7th.
