The Seed of the Sacred Fig was directed from exile by Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof

Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof knew his life would be (further) threatened when making "The Seed of the Sacred Fig." He had previously been imprisoned and placed under house arrest multiple times for opposing the Ayatollah regime and was awaiting a verdict from the Islamic Revolutionary Court.

Asked in his new home in exile in Germany why this film was so important, Rasoulof simply replied: "I think freedom is very important." The gripping, Oscar-nominated family thriller is set in Tehran against the backdrop of the "Woman, Life, Freedom" uprising, triggered by the death of Mahsa Amini, a Kurdish-Iranian woman, after being detained by police for not wearing her hijab correctly.

Against this backdrop of social unrest, we witness the disintegration of a family of four. The conservative mother, Najmeh (played with chilling precision by Soheila Golestani, herself a social activist), parrots government rhetoric and is determined to maintain a family image as her husband, Iman (Missagh Zareh), is promoted to an interrogator in the judiciary.

Iman's daughters, Rezvan (Mahtab Servati) and Sana (Setareh Maleki), sympathize with the protesters and experience the unfolding movement in real-time via their phones and social media, despite their father's initial reluctance to become a soldier of Iran's oppressive regime. (Intriguingly, this mirrors exactly how Rasoulof experienced the protests while imprisoned in 2022 for signing a petition criticizing the government.)

The far-reaching effects of the street protests permeate their home, pitting parents against daughters. Najmeh begins to secretly question everything she once believed about the regime. Things come to a head when Iman's gun goes missing, and his suspicion and paranoia turn on his wife and two daughters in terrifying ways.

The production conditions for "The Seed of the Sacred Fig" were extremely difficult. Rasoulof had to direct the film secretly and remotely. After filming was completed, he was sentenced to [eight years in prison](https://www.theguardian.com/film/article/2024/may/08/iranian-director-sentenced-prison-flogging-mohammad-rasoulof) for his publicly stated opinions and continued involvement in making films and documentaries deemed "a threat to national security."

Rasoulof had just two hours to decide whether to go to prison or leave Iran. Having been imprisoned multiple times before, what he feared was not incarceration itself but never being able to finish "The Seed of the Sacred Fig." "In dealing with people who work for the Iranian government… I could always see that in the person who was making the decision, there was a human being who was suffocating," Rasoulof said.

He abandoned all his possessions, discarded all traceable electronic devices, and embarked on a perilous 28-day journey across Iran's mountainous border with Turkey to Europe. His passport had been confiscated by the Iranian regime, but he was able to find asylum in Germany because he had lived there previously and could be identified through his fingerprints.

All the film's key members are under investigation by intelligence services. The suppression and censorship experienced by the crew permeate the very reason for the film's existence. "The restrictions and oppression started from the very first stages of the script. When you make a film in this way, it automatically reflects the environment around it," Rasoulof explained. "The important thing is that the filmmakers who operate in this situation are able to transform the limitations they face into a new way of telling stories."

Rasoulof followed three principles: having a very small cast and crew; using limited equipment, similar to what you would see in a student film; and directing remotely. Ultimately, it is a miracle that the film culminates in such an ambitious and pointed critique of the Iranian regime. Rasoulof, who had previously been arrested for making a 2010 film about Iran's reformist Green Movement (a film he never finished) and multiple times since, said the cast and crew had to be ready to change direction at any moment.

"You have to be highly adaptable on set, in the sense that you may have to completely abandon something you have prepared and thought about in detail and immediately find a different way to move forward," he said. "The fact that I was directing remotely not only affected me but the entire cast and crew. All we had to do was try to compensate for this physical distance, thanks to their creativity."

Some of the film's most striking scenes are taken directly from the "Woman, Life, Freedom" protests, with real footage enhancing the film's authenticity and further blurring the lines between fact and fiction. The authenticity and core spirit of these protests could never be replicated in rehearsed scenes, let alone filmed in Iran. "I asked myself: 'Even in a utopian scenario, if I were able to reconstruct these scenes, would I be able to achieve the same effect as the truth?'" "I told myself: 'You have to liberate yourself from all expectations and let the form of the film arise from the environment in which you live and shoot.'"

Although Iman's increasingly extreme behavior can be seen as a metaphor for the totalitarian regime in Iran, there are no clear-cut good guys or bad guys in "The Seed of the Sacred Fig." Iman confides in Najmeh early on about his moral reservations about effectively acting as a rubber stamp for death warrants, and Najmeh—even as she clings to the lifestyle afforded to her by Iman's status—begins to jeopardize herself in pursuit of the truth.

Rasoulof observed this moral complexity during his time in prison and was compelled to explore what drives people to abandon their own humanity. "In dealing with people who work for the Iranian government—in the judiciary, security apparatus, interrogators, judges, prosecutors—I could always see that in the person who was making the decision, there was a human being who was suffocating. This humanity that is being drowned out because of a career choice, really."

Despite the freedoms afforded by living in Germany, Rasoulof feels a sense of loss at not being able to live and work in his homeland. Like Rasoulof, Servati and Maleki have fled Iran, while [Golestani faces a travel ban](https://variety.com/2025/film/global/rotterdam-film-festival-soheila-golestani-travel-ban-1236292490/). "I can't make the films I want to make, because I want to make films in Iran, films that relate to the culture I know best," he said.

But thanks to technology, Rasoulof says exile takes on a new form, and he is able to maintain daily contact with his friends, family, and collaborators. Inspired by the work of his colleagues Jafar Panahi ("The White Balloon," "Taxi"), Maryam Moghaddam and Behtash Sanaeeha ([“My Favorite Cake”](https://www.abc.net.au/news/2024-12-13/my-favourite-cake-review/104711404)), and countless others who are considered dissidents by the state, he remains hopeful for the future of Iranian cinema and, more broadly, the future of Iran. "Just as the regime's oppression is increasing and becoming more brutal, so is the courage and need to find new ways of filmmaking and achieving artistic freedom," he said. "I have come to know a new generation of Iranian men and women who have decided to live the lives they want to live. So I know great change awaits us."