The Seed of the Sacred Fig (2024)

A young woman with short dark hair and a serious expression is in the foreground, wearing a light pink t-shirt and a silver necklace. Behind her, two other women appear blurred; one with shoulder-length dark hair looks concerned and is reaching forward, while another with curly dark hair gazes intently. The background has a blue hue, contrasting with the warm tones of the subjects’ clothing and skin.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig is a shattering story that will plunge you into contemporary Iran, where social unrest is set to tear a family apart. The director, Mohammad Raoulof, has craftered a taut and emotionally charged story about Iman, a lawyer who has recently been proposed to the position of an investigating judge. In his new position, he is required to grapple with the moral implications of his new role in the middle of growing protests across the country.

The film is set against the background of Tehran in September 2022. The story combines personal and political threads. Rasoulof has a keen eye for detail—and it can be seen in every frame, from the claustrophobic confines of the family’s apartment all the way to the desolate countryside. This desolation becomes a symbol of their moral wasteland. The cinematography is stark and unflinching. And this mirrors the harsh realities that are faced by the characters.

Missagh Zareh, who plays the judge, Iman, gives us a powerhouse performance. He portrays the gradual erosion of his humanity with a precision that is chilling. Shoheila Golestani as Najmeh, the wife of the judge, is excellent. Her quiet strength becomes the moral compass of the family. And the young actors who play their daughters both bring raw authenticity to their roles. They give us an insight into the youth of Iran who are caught between tradition and a revolution.

The direction by Rasoulof is superb. The deliberate pacing reflects the insidious creep of authoritarianism that pervades everyday life. There are layers of meaning in every scene. There is the symbolism of the sacred fig tree and the transformation of the simple household objects into tools of oppression or liberation.

The production design is worth a special mention. The everyday settings take on an ominous feeling as the story develops. The use of colour is particularly effective as it shifts from warm, familial tones to cold institutional shades as the loyalties of Iman are tested to their limits.

The dialogue is sparse, but it’s razor sharp. Every word carries the weight of the unspoken fears and desires running below the surface. The soundtrack is also judicious. It enhances the gradually growing sense of unease without ever overpowering the performances or the story.

It is possible that some will make comparisons with movies like Incendies or The Lives of Others. These movies also explore the cost of totalitarianism. But Rasoulof’s work is unique in its unflinching exploration of the way in which oppression can rot even the bonds of the most intimate of families.

The symbolism used in the film can feel a bit heavy-handed sometimes. And the pacing could be quite challenging for some—it’s a slow burn.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig is a gut-wrenching exploration of the way that moral compromise occurs in the face of oppression that is systemic. The film will haunt you. It will make you question your own capacity for complicity when confronted with injustice.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig is not an easy watch. But it’s essential viewing if you want your cinema to illuminate the very darkest of corners of human experience. It’s a timely reminder of how much silence in the face of tyranny can cost. And it’s a testament to the enduring power of the human spirit.

Rating: 4 out of 5.

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