It is conventional wisdom in media literacy that if a gun appears in the first act of your story, it is going to be shot by the end. Coined by playwright Anton Chekhov and later dubbed “Chekhov’s Gun,” this storytelling trope has since gained the reputation of being a narrative crutch. However, for master storytellers like Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof, it is simply the gateway through which a far greater, more complex web emerges. For a gun is not simply a gun, in this instance.
For Iman (Missagh Zareh), a newly-promoted government investigator in Tehran, Iran, it is his protection. If he loses the gun, according to his co-worker, he could potentially lose his job. When he brings it home to his wife, Najmeh (Soheila Golestani), she wonders why he even needs a gun. Iman assures her it is to keep them safe, yet decides to keep it a secret from his two teenage daughters, Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami) and Sana (Setareh Maleki), so as not to disturb the peace. Sadaf, a Islamic fundamentalist and loyal citizen, doesn’t make a fuss.
Meanwhile, Rezvan and Sana long for independence from their stern, conservative parents. Rezvan thinks she’s finally found a genuine friend in college girl Sadaf (Niousha Akhshi), however Najmeh is skeptical of any new faces now that Iman is working a higher-profile job. Tensions rise even further when riots break out across the city following the suspicious death of a local woman after she was arrested for not wearing her hijab. The peaceful-turned-violent protests expose Rezvan and Sana to the government’s oppressive regime, leaving them at staunch odds with their parents. And then, suddenly, Iman’s gun goes missing.
To discuss the story further would ruin some of the film’s most stunning surprises, which are both deliciously thrilling but also palpably harrowing. Though the film’s first act feels like a slow burn on a first viewing, it is in retrospect that viewers will appreciate Rasoulof setting up the dominos so that they all can come tumbling down in brilliant, devastating fashion. By patiently building the world around Iman and his family, much of which is based on real events that occurred in Iran throughout 2022, the writer-director paints their lives with subtle strokes that audiences can ruminate with. Only then can they be caught off guard by the film’s eventual unraveling.
Rasoulof’s masterful screenplay brilliantly ratchets the tension by further and further pushing its characters to their extremes. Though it does go to some absurd places, all of it is in service of a larger allegory that portrays the nuclear family as a patriarchy just as systemically abusive as a world power. Iman, the father, exerts draconian control over his family at the threat of losing his privilege, while Najmeh, the mother, becomes complacent in his abuse. Rezvan and Sana, representing the rousing power of younger generations, grow increasingly rebellious toward their father and even attempt to fight back.
All the while, Najmeh is torn between being a caring mother and being loyal to her home country, a dichotomy Golestani portrays with remarkable conviction. Rostami, too, is a standout of the film, commanding the frame when realizing Rezvan’s growth in her own confidence. Mention must be made to Akhshi as Sadaf, who is central to one of the film’s most devastating moments, a long take in the aftermath of a violent protest.
Rasoulof’s restraint forces audiences to reckon with the horror of the state-sanctioned violence, though he balances out moments like this with a hopeful resilience embedded into the daughters’ actions; without spoiling anything, their efforts to combat their father do not prove to be in vain, something that may inspire younger audiences feeling a sense of dread over the world’s slow political and cultural decay.
Rasoulof’s commentary would ring true anywhere, anytime, but it is impossible to ignore the context in which this film was made. Shot in secret following Rasoulof’s imprisonment, the film’s cast and crew were soon banned from attending the film’s premiere in Cannes and pressured to withdraw the film. Following another prison sentence, Rasoulof and the footage were then smuggled across borders (Germany has been offering Rasoulof asylum and has selected the film as their Best International Feature bid at this year’s Oscars). The film includes actual protest footage posted onto social media that the Iranian government has previously censored. All of this, and more, makes The Seed of the Sacred Fig a landmark. Some films are about rebellions. It’s rare that a film is, in and of itself, a rebellion.
The Seed of the Sacred Fig screened as part of the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival. Get more That Shelf TIFF coverage here.
