January 10, 2025

By Marriska Fernandes

After making The Seed of the Sacred Fig, director Mohammad Rasoulof fled Iran on foot escaping imminent prison. When asked why he risked his life to make this movie, the filmmaker reflected, “It’s a bit like asking a prisoner, ‘Why do you want to come out of jail?’”

The story takes place in 2022, during the early days of the “Woman, life, freedom” movement, and Rasoulof includes inserts a few social media videos that others shot during the protests. The film also criticizes Iran’s authoritarian regime and, in order to avoid being detected by authorities and arrested, the crew took precautions while filming in secret.

It centers on a middle class family that grapples with Iran’s social unrest. Iman (Missagh Zareh), an attorney, resides with his wife, Najmeh (Soheila Golestani), and their daughters, Sana (Setareh Maleki) and Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami). Shortly after being appointed to the position of investigating judge at Tehran’s Revolutionary Court, Iman’s court-assigned gun vanishes and he suspects the women in his family. He then imposes rules that further strain his familial relationships, echoing in the family home what is happening in the streets.

The film, which premiered at Cannes, has earned widespread acclaim, including Golden Globes and Critics Choice Awards nominations for Best Non-English Film (Germany) and winning in the same category at the National Board of Review. His film is also shortlisted for the Oscars.

Rasoulof says he was inspired to write the script after serving an earlier prison sentence where he met other filmmakers in similar situations. The director’s hope for the film is a simple one: that everyone gets a chance to see it.

We spoke with the filmmaker, via the aid of a translator, while he was in Toronto ahead of the film’s theatrical release.

You said your experience being re-arrested in prison led to making this film. How so?

The many dealings I had with people who were in the Iranian regime [started] over many years with people working in the censorship apparatus, but then those working in the security apparatus like interrogators, and then those working in the judiciary, so prosecutors and judges. This chain of people and mutual relationships between them and me led me to think a lot about their common trait, which was [to] hand over to someone else who will think for you, but also take decisions for you so we could translate it as submission to power or to ideology. That was a very important point for me and it is really the backbone of the film, the central issue of the film.

Whilst in prison, I had a chance encounter with one of the other [imprisoned] directors who told me that he was very dissatisfied with what he was doing. More than that, he was profoundly ashamed. He even thought about suicide, and he was pressured by his children and family about his job. They wondered how he could collaborate with such a regime. At that point, I thought it would be very interesting to tell a story about a family that has a similar rift at its core, and that, at the same time, would allow me to tackle this question I’ve been thinking of for so many years.

How do you make a film in secret, especially since not everything can be planned? Did any scene get changed completely due to circumstances?

Yes, we had a very, very detailed script and a very thorough planning on how to execute everything. But, of course, things always happen that you don’t expect, that you cannot foresee, and that will not allow you to shoot exactly as you want. It happened many times that certain events would happen, and then we’d have to make decisions in the moment, but because the process was so complex, it does become a bit difficult now for me to distinguish between looking at a scene and saying, “Yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking,” [compared to] “This is something that happened because we had to take a decision in the moment, and this is what we went for.” I should also add that, as a director, locations play a very important role. I plan them meticulously in advance, so whenever we start filming in a certain location, I always know exactly what I want to happen in that location.

What is something seen in the film when you look back now, you can’t believe you made it happen? 

I tend to think more of the opposite, really, like, “Oh, my God, all the things that I wish we could have done, but we’re not able to.” But let me see what I can try to think up. You know the scene at the petrol station? Something happened there where we thought that we’d been discovered and that we wouldn’t be able to continue filming there, but we’d already shot half of what we needed in that location. We either had to begin everything again elsewhere and find another suitable location, or take on this risk and try to complete that scene. An idea came to me [for] how to very quickly film a scene that was planned to be very long. Although it might not appear so to others, I am so glad that we were able to shorten a scene that is crucial for the film’s storyline. Whenever I see it, I’m always like, “Oh, I’m so happy we were able to film this.” It’s that scene where the camera turns twice at 360 degrees because the first camera follows the first car. It comes, does a complete turn, it follows all of that maneuver, and then the second car comes. It does exactly the second maneuver and the camera follows it yet again. [Laughs.] I was really forced to film it that way.

How does this film align with the kinds of stories you’re looking to tell and art that you want to make?

It might not be so easy for me to all of a sudden detach myself from what has occupied me for so long and what has been so important to me for so long. It might be, you never know, but that’s how I imagine it panning out. There is something from this film in my head. It’s very hard to tell now. I’ve got no idea as to how it’s going to unfold and I just really need some time to sit and think.

What is the hope for this film once the world sees it?

I’ve already used up all of my hope because all of my hope was to be able to make it and luckily, I did manage to make it. So the rest is with the world. It’s a present. It’s an offering, really.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig opens at TIFF Lightbox on Jan. 10.