‘Seed of the Sacred Fig’ Director Mohammad Rasoulof Says Iranian Regime Is ‘Waiting to Announce the Verdict’ for Persecuted Cast and Crew Until ‘After the Oscars’

‘Seed of the Sacred Fig’ Director Mohammad Rasoulof Says Iranian Regime Is ‘Waiting to Announce the Verdict’ for Persecuted Cast and Crew Until ‘After the Oscars’


Mohammad Rasoulof, director of the Oscar-nominated film “The Seed of the Sacred Fig,” is standing behind the members of his cast and crew who have been accused of “spreading immorality and propaganda” against the Iranian regime. 

Just last week, one of the film’s actors, Soheila Golestani, was banned from leaving the country and therefore unable to serve on a jury at the International Film Festival Rotterdam. Speaking on a panel at the fest in collaboration with the International Coalition for Filmmakers at Risk, Rasoulof said he believes the regime is “waiting to announce the verdict after the Oscars,” where the film is up for best international feature.

“The whole situation pacified the community, because you are in a state of waiting. I don’t know what their reaction will be after the Oscars,” he continued. “Filmmakers are always in danger, not only because they tell stories that power doesn’t want to hear, but because their courage is very contagious. They become inspirational for others to also take routes going beyond those paved by the government. We are dealing with a cinematic community thirsty for new experiences.” 

Rasoulof also recalled his own struggles that ultimately forced him to flee Iran last year. 

“It has been roughly 15 years of me struggling on a daily basis, not just with the jurisdictional system but also with security forces that make up the very complex system of oppression that characterizes life in Iran. I’m not the first person to be faced with it and I won’t be the last,” he said, mentioning the makers of “My Favorite Cake,” Maryam Moghadam and Behtash Sanaeeha, who are also not allowed to leave the country. 

“As a filmmaker, I’ve experienced prison and different rounds of interrogation. I used these experiences in my films and, just like any other ‘criminal,’ I learnt to survive within the context of this community,” he continued.  “In Iran, within the official route, you start by having permission and then you acquire second permission to distribute the film. You have filmmakers who go off plan and then are not allowed to distribute. You also have another category, and that includes me, of those who don’t get permission and film illegally.”

He added: “Either you don’t make these films and find other ideas, which is an example of self-censorship, or when you’re writing the script, you’re faced with some questions: ‘How can I write this so that we don’t get arrested?’” 

Although the longer the film, “the higher the chances you will get arrested while filming,” he couldn’t cut “Sacred Fig” into separate parts. While his crew noted it was “impossible to execute,” they still decided to make it happen. 

“I was concerned about the danger I would put them in. The ‘Women Life Freedom’ uprising gave my colleagues the bravery required to step into this project,” Rasoulof said. “One of the characteristics of the Islamic republic’s official cinema is that it uses compulsory hijab as the biggest manifestation of its reinforcement of censorship. People working on my film decided not to appear with hijab to oppose censorship.” 

He said: “Oppression in Iran has a long history and that creates its own aesthetics. I call it ‘aesthetics of oppression’. According to its logic, if you dare to make a film that’s very direct, it’s looked down upon and not perceived as poetic enough. My third film was impacted by this. I realized I am reproducing these aesthetics as if it was a shelter, offering me protection. I was choosing it out of fear. I started telling stories in more direct ways. Even if I decide to work with metaphors and symbols again, I want it to be a choice made out of bravery.”

There was another person who couldn’t attend the festival, just like Golestani: Erhan Örs, one of the filmmakers behind “Seen Unseen: An Anthology of (Auto)Censorship.” He was denied a visa to travel to IFFR “for completely inexplicable reasons, but we can all read in between the lines,” according to festival director Vanja Kaludjercic. 

One of his co-directors, Fırat Yücel, said: “In Turkey, there’s censorship of financing, of the government, of ideas and identities. Also, you never know when it will happen. You can make a film, screen it and nothing happens, or be sentenced to jail for 18 years like [producer] Çiğdem Mater. Mostly, it’s directed towards Kurdish filmmakers and LGBTQ+ filmmakers.”

While making taboo-breaking films has always been difficult, the current government uses the law “very efficiently,” he said.

“Within the last six years, people have been prosecuted for making films, producing documentaries or even thinking about making them. People have been prosecuted for editing them … for hanging posters of a film and watching them.”

Italy’s Pier Giorgio Bellocchio also discussed the changes in his country.  

“In Italy, we have a far-right government,” he said. “Many people in it have direct connections to the dictatorship of Mussolini and they do it openly, without shame. They try to change laws that have to do with financing of films in Italy.”

Instead of “censorship of content, there’s censorship of production,” he noted. 

“You can make films about gay issues, immigrants or fascists taking over the government. But since 2024, the government has blocked tax credit funding for 14 months, which has crashed many small companies,” he said. “It has assigned 80 million to funds controlled by commissions. Their members are paid members, selected and hired by the government. Some of this funding is supposed to be assigned to projects about past glories and great Italian heroes, which is ironic, because most of them would be against this current government.” 

Argentinian director and producer Albertina Carri noticed some similarities, with one exception: “We have a president who’s a bully.” 

“We’ve modified the ways of production and the language with which we were producing and narrating the stories. It was offensive for the right-wing government – they closed the National Institute of Film and Audiovisual Arts (INCAA) and it wasn’t sustainable for independent cinema to be created,” Carri said. “The objective is to destroy national production.” 

But other examples of external pressure can be found even closer, observed Fırat Yücel: “In the Netherlands, we don’t talk about systemic racism and xenophobia, or about its [approach] to protests against the genocide in Palestine. I’ve seen a lot of self-censorship here too.”



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Kevin Harson

I am an editor for Grazia British, focusing on business and entrepreneurship. I love uncovering emerging trends and crafting stories that inspire and inform readers about innovative ventures and industry insights.

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