IFFK 2024

IFFK Review | ‘The Seed of the Sacred Fig’: A rebellion in bloom

‘The Seed of the Sacred Fig,’ a Cannes Special Jury Award winner and a frontrunner in the Best International Feature Film category at the Oscars*, bluntly narrates the life of a mother and her two daughters in Iran during the anti-compulsory hijab law protests that reached their peak in 2022, following the death of Mahsa Amini. Under the pretext of portraying the internal and external struggles of Najmeh (Soheila Golestani) and her daughters Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami) and Sana (Setareh Maleki), Mohammad Rasoulof paints a realistic picture of Iran's current socio-political situation.
Rasoulof breaks away from fictional storytelling multiple times, employing an actuality film style by incorporating real-life videos sourced from social media, depicting the anti-hijab protests and the deadly government crackdowns. Remarkably, during the last screening of ‘The Seed of the Sacred Fig’ at the 29th IFFK, two pieces of good news emerged: the film was shortlisted by the Academy, and on December 18, Iran's government decided to pause the implementation of the stricter new hijab law. It was a small but significant victory for Iranian women—a battle won, though the feminist struggle continues, not just in the Islamic Republic but globally.

The lives of Najmeh and Iman (Missagh Zareh) serve as symbolic representations of the state.
The father, a devout government servant, embodies authority; the mother represents the gullible millions who blindly consume and swear by government propaganda disseminated through paid media; and the daughters symbolize the rebellious youth ready to challenge regressive traditions. Iman's promotion to an investigator for the prosecutor provides him with newfound powers—symbolized by the gun—that neither he nor Najmeh had ever experienced before.
Rasoulof masterfully portrays how power corrupts even the most virtuous. In an early scene, Iman brings the gun home and asks Najmeh to hold it, offering her a taste of power and the luxuries it promises. This moment subtly nudges Najmeh, a neutralist, to develop a softer stance toward the authorities. Iman’s transformation is rapid, but Najmeh’s is more gradual. After drafting an investigative report that leads to a youth’s death sentence, Iman returns home devastated, heads straight to the bathroom, and stands under the shower as if attempting to cleanse himself of his guilt. However, Rasoulof later repeats this scene with a twist: Iman emerges after merely washing his face and hands, now indifferent to the weight of his actions.
Najmeh’s transition is also compelling. Initially reluctant to hold the gun, she eventually lights up when it’s in her hands. She hands it back, commenting on its weight—perhaps a reminder of the responsibility that comes with wielding power. Although she initially shows little interest in her husband’s authority, the perks of siding with the regime—such as a three-bedroom house in a safer location and a dishwasher—gradually draw her in, turning her into a loyalist.
Najmeh’s loyalty reaches its peak when she fervently defends the custodial death of Mahsa Amini, attributing it to pre-existing medical conditions, and when she objects to sheltering Sadaf (Niousha Akhshi), Rezvan’s gravely injured best friend. If Mahsa’s death acted as the catalyst for the 2022 revolt in Iran, Najmeh’s refusal to help Sadaf and her subsequent arrest from the dormitory ignite the rebellion in her daughters. What begins as a protest against their father escalates into an act of defiance as the girls make the symbol of his authority—the gun—disappear.
This act reveals the true nature of fascism, with even Najmeh unable to escape its grip. It is only then that she begins to recognize her error in judgment. Unlike many who support fundamentalist regimes, Najmeh is given an opportunity to redeem herself. At the height of the conflict, the three women unite against Iman, literally bringing him down. Rasoulof even offers Iman a second chance to change when Sana plays an audio recording of cherished family memories from their past. But seldom do those intoxicated by power retreat. Iman, too, rushes toward his downfall.
The film operates on multiple levels—both as a critique of a fascist regime and as a tale of women rising against patriarchy. Once Iman meets his doom, Rasoulof shifts to real footage of Iranian women celebrating in the streets, discarding and burning their hijabs.
*At the time of writing this review.