Filmed underground and in secret: The story behind this ‘banned’ Oscar-nominated film

Four weeks into shooting his latest film, Mohammad Rasoulof was sentenced to eight years in prison and lashings in Iran.

It isn’t the first time the award-winning Iranian director has been punished for his work.

In 2010, he was sentenced to six years in prison by the Iranian regime for his film The White Meadows. In 2017 he was banned from leaving the country and later convicted by the Islamic Revolutionary Court of Iran for “collusion against national security” over his film A Man of Integrity.

In 2020, Rasoulof was again sentenced to a year in prison for three films authorities deemed “propaganda against the system”.

But this time, he had to think about his future.

A man in a black suit and black tie holds up a white rolled piece of paper tied with a red ribbon. There is a group of people in the background

Mohammad Rasoulof says going to prison in Iran would mean he’d be accepting the role of the “sacrificial artist”. Source: Getty / Rebecca Sapp

Sensing arrest was imminent, Rasoulof had just two hours to choose between life behind bars or exile, possibly forever.

“I received a definitive eight-year prison sentence, which meant there was nothing else I could do,” the director tells SBS News via his interpreter, Iante Roach.

“It was something I had been thinking about at leisure in prison, but now I had to make a decision in a split second.”

So, with only a small bag and no documents, he fled Iran — on foot.

Why making movies in Iran is dangerous

Before he learned of his sentencing, Rasoulof, 52, had spent four weeks shooting his latest film, The Seed of the Sacred Fig, underground and illegally — in breach of Iranian law.

In Iran, making movies can be a dangerous business. Filmmaking laws are strict and regulated by the government. Filmmakers must get a production and screening permit from the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance and cannot show anything that might go against the rules of the Islamic Republic.

For example, women must appear in the hijab; singing and dancing are not permitted; sexual and romantic contact — like a hug or a kiss — cannot be depicted; and the film cannot criticise the Iranian government or Islam.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig breaks all these rules.

A woman stands in a room with two other women behind her

The Seed of the Sacred Fig is set against the backdrop of the 2022 Woman, Life, Freedom movement, during which mass protests erupted in Iran following the death of Mahsa Amini. Source: Supplied / Neon

Set largely within a family home, the film follows father and judge Iman (Misagh Zareh) who is promoted to be an investigating judge in Tehran’s Revolutionary Court — a court system in which a single judge deliberates criminal cases outside the purview of the public or a jury. His wife Najmeh (Soheila Golestani) is happy her husband’s promotion will mean their daughters no longer need to share a room, but is concerned about what it will mean for their safety amidst political unrest.

Rasoulof says his inspiration for Iman came from an encounter he had with a prison guard he met while serving his first sentence: The guard described to him the “deep embarrassment” and “self-hatred” he was experiencing, as well as the fierce criticism he was getting from his children due to his job.

I was also making a film about a family that the inner dynamics and workings of are completely upended by something happening outside of the home.

In the film, Iman’s daughters Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami) and Sana (Setareh Maleki) steadily show signs of rebellion as women’s rights in the country are interrogated following the — the real-world mass protests precipitated by the death of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini, who died in custody after being arrested for allegedly not wearing her hijab properly.

“I think that whereas the story of the film, of course, does take place in Iran, the themes at play are totally universal,” Rasoulof says.

“So for instance, the patriarchy, freedom, repression, protesting against power, totalitarianism, and that is why they resonate so strongly, but also why it’s important that they can bring about solidarity among stories told from different cultures.”

Mahsa Jina Amini remains 'more than a symbol' to Iranians, two years after her death image

Filmed in secret through FaceTime

Rasoulof has become the notorious face of underground cinema in Iran. Because of this, he needed to be as far away from the filming locations as possible.

“My physical presence on set would certainly alert the police to the fact that this film is being made with no respect to the laws of censorship,” he says.

“There were two main concerns — on the one hand, that I might be followed and closely surveyed, but then also that the cast and crew would attract attention by filming in public. Of course, if I rocked up, that would attract much more undue attention on their work while trying to film in secret.”

Due to the risks, Rasoulof directed much of the film remotely from his home through FaceTime, while two assistants acted as his proxies on location.

Additionally, cast and crew on-set had backup protocols in case any inquiring strangers, police, or government officials found their way on set: They had fake filming permits and an entire backup script, which the cast would slip into to avoid arousing suspicion — one that would appear as if the film were government-sanctioned.

“Because we had to make this film underground, we decided to try and distance ourselves from anything that could make the police suspicious about the themes of the film; about what was being filmed, the contents, the story,” Rasoulof explains.

“Of course, we were afraid ourselves during the shoots that we’d be arrested and we were worried. So I’m sure that that transpired in front of the camera also and permeated the film in a sort of subtle and unconscious way.”

A woman and a man on a couch. The man, who has a beard and is wearing a light brown polo shirt, is looking straight forward. The woman is holding a blue pillow and looking at him.

While several members of the cast and crew also fled Iran, Misagh Zareh (left) and Sohelia Golestani (right) remained behind. Iranian authorities have accused them of propaganda against the regime. Source: Supplied / Neon Pictures

The film is interlaced with social media footage of the Woman, Life, Freedom protests, including videos of people being arrested, beaten up and murdered on the streets of Tehran.

Rasoulof’s decision to include this real-world vision was both a consequence of filming logistics and because of their sheer power.

“[In] making this film underground, reconstructing a single second of these real-life scenes was just not an option,” he explains.

Then again, social media had this really surprising and extraordinary impact on the protests, but also in allowing protesters to meet and alerting the world to what was going on.

“In the end, I had to ask myself, even in a utopian world where I was able to film and recreate these protests and the repression that accompanied them, would anything I could film ever achieve the same power of reality?”

Fleeing through the mountains

By the time the film was completed, Rasoulof knew the risks were growing. But nothing could have prepared him for the moment he learned he would face eight years in prison and lashings, just a few days after he had completed the shoot.

“I went to my terrace, where I’ve got lots of flowers and plants, and I started touching them and looking at them and wondering: ‘what does it mean to go to prison and what does it mean not to go to prison? What’s the significance of it? What does it entail?'” Rasoulof recalls.

“I knew that if I went to prison for that amount of time, it would mean I’d be accepting the role of the sacrificial artist that’s been sacrificed to the system and totalitarianism. And it seemed to me that I had to accept a heavier burden of responsibility and choose a route that would allow me to continue working.”

A man wearing glasses looking at the camera.

Mohammad Rasoulof had just two hours to make his biggest life decision — to go to prison for his filmmaking or leave Iran, perhaps forever. Source: Supplied

What followed was a 28-day journey on foot, where Rasoulof travelled in secret to reach exile in Germany. He says he had help from connections he made while in prison in 2022. (He had been arrested that July, not for filmmaking but for criticising a government crackdown on protests following a fatal building collapse.)

“When I was in prison, I’d met some people who had told me, were you ever to decide to leave Iran, let us know and we will help you.

“So when I decided to leave, I packed a bag with very few items — without a single document or device, or anything that could help me to be tracked down.”

It was not an easy decision for the filmmaker, who says he’ll always remember the moment he crossed the Iranian border.

“I’ll never forget being on a mountain, just a few steps away from the border, knowing that if I did take these few steps, I would be on the other side. Being unable to take one step further and then having to tell myself: ‘No, Mohammad, you have to do it. You can do it. You will do it’.

To this very second, I’ve got such a profound longing for and attachment to Iran.

Several members of Rasoulof’s cast and crew, including Rostami and Maleki, who play the daughters, also fled the country fearing persecution.

But lead actors Zareh and Golestani remain trapped in Iran, where authorities have accused them of propaganda against the Iranian regime and promoting immorality. Their fate is unclear.

Rasoulof believes the government may be waiting to announce the verdict after the Oscars next month, due to the film’s nomination for best international feature.

Oscar nomination ‘a light in times of darkness’

Despite Iran’s strict censorship, The Seed of the Sacred Fig was submitted to the Oscars by Germany as its official entry for the international feature category due to Rasoulof’s exile and the film’s post-production taking place in Germany.

“Because of the normal process of selection, it never ever occurred to me in a million years that my film could be nominated because Iran would never do that,” Rasoulof says.

“So it came as a true surprise. And when I heard about it, I wondered, ‘what does this mean?'”

A man in a black suit and tie holds up two pictures - headshots of a man and a woman

At the 2024 Cannes Film Festival, Rasoulof held up photos of actors Zareh and Golestani, who both remain trapped in Iran. Source: Getty / Stephane Cardinale – Corbis

While two Iranian films have previously won in the category, it’s the first time an Iranian film critical of the country’s regime has earned a spot at the Oscars. The self-nomination process for the category means that films criticising oppressive regimes usually won’t be submitted, let alone screened by their country of origin.

“I think whoever made that decision made a really interesting decision and shone a light in times of darkness towards all filmmakers, all around the world working under oppression, showing them that there are ways for the films to be seen and also showing us that human values are stronger than nationalistic ones and more important,” Rasoulof says.

While Rasoulof is now in self-imposed exile, he says his future films will still reflect his time in Iran, even though he might not be there physically.

I still have this treasure trove of stories from Iran with me. It’s not just stories – it’s concepts and ideas that have to do with the culture I come from.

“I hope very much that before I can ever exhaust this treasure trove, not only I but all Iranians who have left our country against their will will be able to return – that these major changes that are necessary in order for that to happen will have happened and that I’ll be able to go back to the place that I come from, that I belong to.”

The Seed of the Sacred Fig is in cinemas now.

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