THE SEED OF THE SACRED FIG - Mark Reviews Movies

The Seed of the Sacred Fig, Neon

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Review by Mark Dujsik | November 27, 2024

The Seed of the Sacred Fig is about rebellion, and as the work of an Iranian filmmaker in that state of theocratic authoritarianism, the film is an act of rebellion in itself. Writer/director Mohammad Rasoulof is among the ranks of other filmmakers in Iran who have faced censorship and more overt legal consequences in his homeland for making movies that dare to show what life is like under that regime and, in doing so, implicitly criticize it.

There is no way around the criticism of that government from the perspective of those who want personal, creative, and other forms of freedom, of course, because the Iranian government, using a strictly fundamentalist view of Islam to define every aspect of law and society and culture, does not allow for that freedom. It comes from above, much like the tree of the film's title, which has seeds that fall from the sky in bird droppings, bloom amidst already existing trees, and gradually choke the host plant to death, until only the sacred fig remains.

Rasoulof's story is about the Iranian government in the backdrop of the tale, set in modern times, and within the home of a single family, who have benefited from being good servants to the state and stand to benefit even more by continuing and escalating their work for it. The central figure, perhaps, is Iman (Missagh Zareh), a husband and father to two daughters, even though much of the plot revolves around and depends on his absence from the home.

He has worked as an investigator in the court system of Tehran for two decades, which has afforded him a fine apartment, a decent salary, and the promise of promotion within the Islamic Revolutionary Court. The day for the last part—or, at least, the first step of his ultimate career goal of becoming a fully-fledged judge in that system—has arrived.

Iman has been promoted to the role of investigating judge, which looks over information and evidence for possible cases against those who may have broken Islamic law or worked in some way against the government itself. He is a man of faith, who has prayed for this day for a long time, even returning to the mostly empty town of his birth to visit the mosque there. He believes in this system, not only because of what it has given to him and his family, but also as a matter of personal principle.

His wife Najmeh (Soheila Golestani) agrees, so when Iman tells her about his promotion, she is overjoyed, especially since it means a bigger house, provided by the government, than the two-bedroom apartment they currently have. They have two daughters, Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami) and Sana (Setareh Maleki), who have shared a bedroom their entire lives, and even though Rezvan, the elder sibling, will be going to college soon, it would be nice to have the extra space for while she's still living at home and whatever the future may bring for the family.

The daughters, by the way, have never known what their father does for work, because the identity of judges and officials in the Revolutionary Court are kept anonymous. Since they're older and this new position brings with it a higher possibility of danger from the state's "enemies," Iman and Najmeh decide to tell them, especially since he'll now be carrying and bringing home a pistol for protection. Just when everything with and within the family seems settled, though, demonstrations erupt in the streets of and at educational campuses throughout the city. Members of the younger generation are protesting the country's law that girls and women must wear a hijab in public.

The background to the domestic drama that unfolds here comes from reality. Indeed, Rasoulof uses footage, mostly captured on cellphones, of real-life protests, mass arrests, attacks by plainclothes and special forces police, and the often-bloody results of that violence against civilians. The tipping point of the protests is the death of a young woman, who was detained by police. Some say she was severely beaten in custody, resulting in her hospitalization and death, but the official line from the government, which Iman believes without question, is that the woman suffered a stroke.

As the conflict in the city rises, one at home escalates, too. The daughters start watching videos on social media, while their mother stays tuned to state television. One of Rezvan's friends is shot in the face during a protest, and the sight of the young woman, who has been in her home, makes Najmeh rethink some of her assumptions about the people participating in the protests.

All of this is necessary to put the ensuing drama in context. Rasoulof may have the bigger picture of Iran in mind in the setup and over the course of this story, but his approach to depicting the generational conflict, the debate between the law of the land and the desire to live free lives, and the impact of authoritarian thinking and power on ordinary people is based entirely within the confines of this family and their relationships. Rasoulof makes the political personal and the wide scope of its portrait of Iran intimate, in other words, and the results are harrowing.

Over the course of the film's 168 minutes, we come to understand each of these characters, what they want, why they want it, and how sympathetic each of them fundamentally is, even if they become eventually become caught up in a philosophy, deeds, and behavior that call that sympathy into question. That's especially true of Iman, who really does only want what's best for his family and initially questions the way convictions—even ones that would result in capital punishment—are pushed through the court system, and Najmeh, who first advocates that her husband turn a blind eye to his conscience for the family's benefit but comes to realize what such complicity actually means.

The conflict intensifies, with the mysterious disappearance of that pistol, and the government oppression that has given this family everything, while they're also being protected from it by Iman's position, comes home. The Seed of the Sacred Fig becomes a potent dissection of authoritarian thinking and action, even though and because it is a small familial drama, transforming into a claustrophobic thriller, about real people grappling with and, finally, having to confront authoritarianism in their home.

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