In the vast and intricate tapestry of existence, each thread represents a unique story, a singular life. The story of Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi is one such thread that shimmers with an extraordinary brilliance. Born into the tumultuous political landscape of Iran, his life has been a testament to resilience and perseverance in the face of adversity.
On a crisp autumn evening in October, mere hours following Iran’s missile attack on Israeli locations, a notable critic of the Islamic Republic found himself seated at a Manhattan hotel eatery, pondering over the possibility of his eventual return to his homeland.
Muhammad Rasoulof, who recently created a highly political feature film significant for the nation, faced substantial personal risks. Yet, his deepest wish is simply to return to the country he aspires to transform.
As I stroll through cities in America or Europe, I encounter individuals who aren’t like me and wonder if I truly belong. I yearn for a sense of home, but my determination to complete this project took priority over my personal longing.” (51-year-old, speaking through a translator) The youthful sparkle in his eye hinted at the trials he had overcome.
The project is referred to as ‘The Seed of the Sacred Fig,’ and it’s challenging to fully convey the risks Rasoulof took during its creation, or the courage he showed in confronting those obstacles.
Day after day, the director risked his life by gathering people in Tehran to produce a movie criticizing the Iranian government. When he completed it, he chose exile, aware that staying would lead to imprisonment or even worse. He carried the film with him as he covertly traversed borders and navigated through neighboring countries until reaching safety in Germany. Rasoulof managed to arrive in Europe right before a screening at the Cannes Film Festival in May, both his body and the film safe and sound. (Currently, he resides in Germany and has made occasional visits to other liberated regions, such as the New York Film Festival, where this interview took place.)
As a passionate gamer, I’m excitedly counting down the days until November 27 when Neon unleashes “Sacred Fig” in the U.S. This isn’t just another movie opening; it’s a desperate plea for freedom smuggled out of a place where such calls can lead to imprisonment or worse. Hailing from Germany, this film is tipped to make the international shortlist for the Oscars, and it doesn’t shy away from the harsh realities. It fearlessly portrays the courage of the younger generation standing up against enormous risks, and the ruthless regime’s audacity in silencing them.
While Jafar Panahi’s 2011 film, This Is Not a Film, is more straightforward about its narrative structure, casually appearing to document visits to the director’s home, the two movies do have some similarities. Both films weave tales of brave acts of defiance and effectively demonstrate this rebellion through their very existence.
In recent times, Iran has experienced a significant number of transformative events. The first was the tragic death of Mahsa Amini while in police custody, which ignited massive demonstrations under the banners of Woman, Life, Freedom in late 2022 and subsequent suppression efforts by authorities.
Beginning October 7, 2023, the government’s surrogate militias engaged in conflict across the Middle East against Israel, followed by retaliation. In May, there was an unexpected helicopter crash that took the life of hard-line President Ebrahim Raisi, leading to the election of the more moderate Masoud Pezeshkian in June. However, it remains unclear how much autonomy he will have under Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, who is 85 years old and controls the nation as a cleric. Recently, the country has been shaken by the regime’s execution of German-Iranian dissident Jamshid Sharmahd and the decision last week by longtime dissident Kianoosh Sanjari to commit suicide as a final act of protest on behalf of Iran’s numerous political prisoners.
Rasoulof is among a handful of filmmakers who challenge the government by creating independent films, often due to being exiled from Iran. These unofficial productions aim for change towards more liberal policies. They are movies that avoid the censorship and biased portrayals of the regime’s critics common in state-approved films. (Rasoulof received the Berlinale’s Golden Bear in 2020 for his reform-oriented film There Is No Evil about capital punishment.) State movies present an idealized Iran where the government provides a perfect life and is without fault, whereas independent ones do not sugarcoat anything.
Previously, Rasoulof spent time in jail, getting arrested in 2022 for voicing criticism towards the government. During his imprisonment, an unexpected situation unfolded when the guards, who were monitoring him, admitted to having seen a pirated version of “There Is No Evil” and enjoyed it. They played it again for him in the hospital wing where he was staying. Reflecting on this experience, Rasoulof humorously remarked, “I found myself in a prison hospital, watching a movie about oppression.
GUERRILLA FILMMAKING
In Rasoulof’s latest film, we delve into both a personal family saga and a political allegory. The story revolves around a newly appointed “investigative judge” named Iman (Missagh Zareh), who in reality serves to legitimize the regime’s harsh actions through bureaucracy. However, this film explores the moment of hesitation he experiences before fully committing himself to his destructive role.
The movie “Sacred Fig” focuses on Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami), who becomes deeply involved in the Women, Life, Freedom protests due to her activism. This engagement leads to a confrontation with her father and creates complex situations for her younger sister Sana (Setareh Maleki) and mother Najmeh (Soheila Golestani). The story unfolds into a stark family division that mirrors the way Iranian suppressions have splintered and endangered the nation as a whole.
The process of creating the movie was inherently daring, as locations were frequently communicated to actors and a compact team just minutes before shooting began. Occasionally, production would proceed without a hitch. However, there were times when the crew would arrive only to find that they had to disperse immediately; producers had spotted potentially dangerous individuals in the vicinity, making it too risky to continue with filming for the day. “It wasn’t a scenario that could be easily prepared for,” notes Mani Tilgner, one of the film’s producers.
In the process of filming street scenes, great care had to be taken due to the sensitive nature of the location. Mostly, we could only capture scenes involving women wearing hijabs, as this item of clothing has become a significant symbol in the struggle for freedom and progressiveness. This sometimes led to humorous encounters. For instance, while filming scenes with veiled women, some passersby commented, “Look at this poorly produced program; no one will watch it.” I thought to myself, “If only they knew the truth.
To circumvent the issue of depicting protest scenes that would have included women without hijabs, Rasoulof cleverly devised a solution: He integrated footage from real Women, Life, Freedom protests into his film. Not only did this make the scene appear more genuine, it also avoided the risk of his cast being arrested and production being halted.
Exporting video content from the country posed a challenge, even for editing purposes. Rasoulof collaborated with his editor, Andrew Bird, who resides in Berlin.
Bird stated to THR that at times he was unsure if the footage even existed or where it would be found,” said Bird. “Often, I had to delve into a string of hidden accounts to retrieve it. This was because filmmakers were constantly trying to outmaneuver censors and government intelligence agents in the digital realm. To clarify, it wasn’t merely sent to my email address.
Bird kept his project a secret, working on it using an offline computer while his phone was in another room.
SENTENCED TO PRISON
While working on his movie, Rasoulof unexpectedly received an eight-year prison sentence from one of the judges he criticized in his film. His cast and crew were summoned for interrogation as well. Initially, Rasoulof’s lawyer suggested there was no hope of overturning this sentence. However, they could attempt a legal appeal that might grant them around seven to eight weeks – just enough time to complete the movie before the deadline. Rasoulof agreed and said with a shrug, “It was just enough time to finish the film.
When the prison date approached, Rasoulof ran.
Luckily, during his previous stint in prison, he encountered other dissidents – individuals adept at evasive tactics – who would later prove crucial in helping him flee the country this time. They offered him valuable connections and advice on navigating checkpoints undetected. It seems that the most effective escape route was to first be imprisoned.
It took Rasoulof two weeks to reach Germany. He sent edits back and forth to Bird as he went.
The actors faced their own crucibles.
In accepting this position, I felt anxious initially. However, my frustration was significantly more intense,” Rostami shares over a Zoom call from Germany.
The young actress’s personal path towards activism mirrors her character’s development. For years, she graced stages in state productions, yet when the 2022 protests arrived, she chose to step back and focus on unconventional roles – like independent theater performances. Not long after finishing this film, she too, went into hiding. She remains uncertain about her ability to return to Iran in the future.
Maleki, portraying her on-screen sibling, likewise sought refuge in Germany. They maintain daily contact. As for Golestani and Zareh, their off-screen characters, it’s assumed they remain within the borders of Iran.
As a gamer, I never aimed to become the embodiment of the very struggles I criticized. Yet, Rostami and Rasoulof find themselves in this peculiar predicament, fully aware of the irony that has unfolded in their lives. No one desires to be a symbol for injustice, but it certainly simplifies the task of marketing a film.
You can feel the guilt Rasoulof bears for those he left behind. While his immediate family is outside Iran, his sister remains in the country. She put her house up as collateral for his bail and lost it when he fled.
There’s also a sense of remorse in him for not continuing the internal struggles and protests. You can almost feel Rasoulof wrestling internally, reconciling the sorrow of exile with the joy of being able to tell a tale he wouldn’t have been able to if he hadn’t left. It would be overly simplistic to view his story solely as one of escape. Instead, it’s about more than just a physical departure; Rasoulof’s life is about navigating a deeper, existential quandary. He’s trapped between the desire to stay with his people and telling their narrative, and between fighting for freedom and experiencing it.
A few days ago, I posed a thought-provoking question to Alfonso Cuarón: ‘Suppose you were in a dictatorial situation, could you create the film Gravity?’ Rasoulof shares. He responded, ‘I can scarcely picture it.’ This question delves into philosophy. It explores one’s place in life, priorities, and capabilities – staying put versus moving somewhere else. I didn’t want to solely concentrate on my own experiences if I stayed.
He continues, “We have billions of other galaxies. In this part of the Milky Way that we are in, I ask myself, ‘What am I compared with this vastness in this complex and beautiful world? What can I do to find some meaning?’ “
He gazes outside at the bustling midtown Manhattan scene lit up at night, teeming with individuals heading out for dinner or hastening home following a tiring day.
He expresses that he doesn’t seem connected to the city or the location, but he does sense belonging to something greater, which is sufficient for him.
Initially, this narrative was published in a solo issue of The Hollywood Reporter’s magazine, which came out in November. If you’d like to subscribe and read more such issues, please click [here](http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/subscribe).
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2024-11-22 20:25