On a cool autumn night in October, just hours after Iran fired rockets at Israeli targets, one of the Islamic Republic’s most prominent dissidents sat in a New York hotel restaurant, wondering if he would ever get home.
At great risk to his life, Mohammad Rasoulof made one of the most politically influential feature films about the country in years, and all he wanted was to return to the country he wanted to change.
“I walk in the United States or Europe and see people who are not me and ask myself: Can I fit in? I want to go home,” the 51-year-old said through a translator, considering the ordeal he has faced. There was a youthful light in his eyes. “But for me, finishing this project is more important.”
“This plan” is the seed of the sacred fig, Neither the dangers Rasulov faced in achieving this goal nor the courage with which he faced them can be exaggerated.
The director risked his life every day in Tehran to gather people to make a film against the Iranian regime. When he was done, he started running away because he knew if he stayed, he would end up in jail or worse. He carried the film with him as he sneaked across borders and neighboring countries until he finally arrived safely in Germany. Rasoulof arrived in Europe ahead of its premiere at the Cannes Film Festival in May, and it was a relief that his body and the film were intact. (He now lives in Germany and has made selective trips to other parts of the free world, including to the New York Film Festival, where this interview took place.)
Neon is coming soon sacred fig Opening in the United States on November 27, it’s one of the most important film premieres in recent memory – the film’s cry for help surreptitiously coming from a country where anyone who calls for liberation is likely to be imprisoned or murdered. The official Oscar-nominated film from Germany (which is widely expected to make the international shortlist), it spares no effort to demonstrate the willingness of young people to protest despite serious risks, and the shamelessness of the regime at the risk of repression.
Although more narrative than Jafar Panahi’s 2011 landmark work this is not a movie — a film that gets around the ban on filmmaking by seemingly simply telling the story of people visiting the director’s house — the two films have something in common. Both tell stories of bold civil disobedience and serve as their own best examples.
Iran has undergone a series of earth-shaking changes in recent years. The first was the death of Mahsa Amini in police custody, which led to the massive “Women, Life, Freedom” protests in autumn 2022 and the subsequent crackdown.
Subsequently, beginning on October 7, 2023, government proxy militias fought against Israel across the Middle East and were met with reprisals. May led to the sudden death of hardline President Ebrahim Raisi in a helicopter crash, leading to the election of the more moderate Masoud Pezeshkian in June – even though he was 85 years old. It remains to be seen how much wiggle room there will be for who will govern the country under clerical Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei. The regime’s killing of German-Iranian dissident Jamshid Shahmahad this fall, and long-time dissident Qinush Sanjali’s decision to take his own life last week, represent many in the country. A final act of protest by political prisoners that shook the country.
Rasoulof is part of a small group of dissident filmmakers, many of whom had to flee Iran, who make so-called “non-state projects” hoping to bring about liberal reforms. The films were not censored by state censors and did not sugarcoat any regime criticism. (Rasoulof won the 2020 Berlin Film Festival Golden Bear for his reform-minded death penalty drama no evil.) The National Project presents a wonderful Iran, where a fundamentalist government provides a good life for its people and does no wrong. Of course, non-state institutions would not do such a thing.
Rasulov has previously been jailed and was arrested in 2022 for criticizing the government. There, he ended up in the hospital, where he found himself in the unusual situation of hearing the police guarding him say they had watched a pirated movie. no evil and loved it. They put it on and watched it again with him. “I was stuck in a prison hospital watching a movie about repression,” he said wryly.
Guerrilla Video Production
A protester holds a portrait of Mahsa Amini, a young Iranian woman who died in police custody during the 2022 “Women, Life, Freedom” protest.
OZAN KOSE/AFP/Getty Images
Part family drama and part political fable, Rasoulov’s new film follows Iman (Misa Zareh), a recently promoted “investigating judge” – effectively a rubber stamp whose purpose is to cleansing himself of the brutality of a bureaucratic regime—and his brief hesitation before fully embracing his villainous role.
That’s enough for a controversial political statement – how good people can become corrupt when their own futures and quality of life are at stake. But the story doesn’t end there. instead, sacred fig The show centers on the activism of daughter Rezwan (Masha Rostami), who becomes increasingly involved in Women, Life, Freedom protests. This radicalism leads to direct conflict with her father, as well as complicated entanglements with her sister Sana (Setare Maleki) and her mother Najmeh (Sohila Golestani). It ultimately moves the film to a place where violent families are torn apart, which could easily be read as a metaphor for how repression in Iran divides and harms the country itself.
Making this film was an adventure in itself. Locations are usually sent to the cast and a small crew a few hours before filming begins. Sometimes production fails. Sometimes the crew needs to disperse soon after arriving; the producers spot some suspicious people nearby and the stakes are too high for the day. “This is not a situation you can really plan for,” said Mani Tilgner, one of the film’s producers.
Street scenes, meanwhile, had to be shot with extreme caution, and often only scenes involving the hijab, the veil worn by women whose removal has become a symbol of the struggle for liberation and modernism. This can lead to some interesting situations. “One time we were filming a hijab scene, and some people walked by and said, ‘Look at this terrible state production, no one is going to watch it,’” Rostami recalled with a laugh in a video interview. “I thought, ‘It would be nice if they knew.’ “
To solve the problem of filming protest scenes (of course, of women without headscarves), Rasoulof came up with an ingenious solution: he inserted references to actual Women, Life, Freedom protests. lens. Not only does it look more real, but it doesn’t run the risk of actors getting arrested and production shutting down.
Taking material out of the country, even for editing, is not easy. Rasouloff worked with Berlin-based editor Andrew Bird.
“Sometimes I don’t know where the shot is going to be, or if it’s going to be there,” Bird told Heart rate. He would periodically tap into a series of shadow accounts to retrieve it, as the filmmakers tried to stay one step ahead of censors and government intelligence operatives digitally. “It’s not just sent to my email address, put it that way.”
Bird didn’t tell anyone what he was doing, instead editing on an offline computer using his cell phone in another room.
Sentenced to jail
The film incorporates news photos from protests against the Iranian regime.
Stringer/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images
During the filming of the film, Rasoulof was sentenced to eight years in prison for his efforts (ironically by a judge who was very responsible for investigating his film reviews). Many cast and crew members were brought in for questioning. His lawyer told him it would be impossible to fight such a sentence. All they can try is an appeals-based legal strategy, which might buy them seven to eight weeks. Rasulov told him to keep pursuing it. “That’s just enough time to finish the movie,” he shrugs.
As his prison date approached, Rasulov fled.
Fortunately, the last time he was in prison, he met other dissidents – people who must be well-versed in the art of escape – who were instrumental in helping him sneak out this time, providing him with ways to bypass checks Station contact information and guidance. It turns out that the best way to escape is to be sent to jail first.
It took Rasulov two weeks to reach Germany. He sent edits back and forth to Bird as he went.
The actors faced their own acid test.
“I was scared to take on this role. But the anger was much greater,” Rostami said THR Zoom from Germany.
The young woman’s own journey to activism parallels her personality. For years she was proud to perform in national productions, but when the protests came in 2022 she decided to stop and only work in subversive projects – underground theater and the like. Shortly after finishing the film, she also fled. She does not know if and when she will be able to return to Iran.
Maleki, who played her sister, also fled to Germany, and the two chatted every day. The two adult actors, Golestani and Zare, are believed to be still in Iran.
It is certainly not their goal to be an example of the victims of their criticism. But Rostami and Rasolov are also acutely aware, even ironic, of how their lives are unfolding. No one wants to be the poster child for injustice, but it does make selling the movie easier.
You can feel Rasulov’s guilt for the people he left behind. While his immediate family is outside Iran, his sister is still in the country. She used her house as collateral for his bail but lost it when he escaped.
He also feels guilty for not continuing the protest and struggle from within. You can feel the tension inside Rasulov as he tries to connect the pain of exile with the happiness of telling a story that he would never have been able to tell had he stayed. It would be too tactful to view his story as merely an escape. Rasulov’s life was more than just a daring physical exit, his life was an attempt to escape a more existential dilemma that caught him between being with his people and telling their stories— Between fighting for freedom and having freedom.
“A few days ago I asked Alfonso Cuarón, ‘If you were in a dictatorship, what would you do? gravity? “Rasolov said. “He said, ‘I can’t imagine I could do it. ‘This is a philosophical question. Life – where do you belong and what are your priorities? What can you do here compared to somewhere else? I don’t want to just focus on myself. If I stay, it means doing this.
He continued: “We have billions of other galaxies. In our part of the galaxy, I ask myself: ‘Who am I compared to the vastness of this complex and beautiful world? “What can I do to find some meaning?”
He looked out the window and saw the streets of midtown Manhattan brightly lit and bustling at night with people hurrying to dinner or home after a long day.
“I don’t feel like I’m part of this city or this place,” he said. “But I do feel like I’m part of something bigger, and that’s enough.”
This story first appeared in the November issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. To receive the magazine, click here to subscribe.
