What Iranian women must deal with in ‘The Seed of the Sacred Fig’
Iranian Cinema is something to behold and to aspire to. After the Iranian Revolution in 1979, theocracy took over to replace the monarchy with another version of an oppressive regime. Artists must be careful with their artworks because the regime and its adherents thoroughly surveil them. Commentary is heavily policed, if not redacted.
However, this did not stop many filmmakers from having their works pass the Iranian censors and earn accolades on the planet. Yet, sometimes, filmmakers must work with what they have and under the covers, so to speak.
The Seed of the Sacred Fig (2024, directed by Mohammad Rasoulof) deals with acerbic accusations against the theocratic regime with real-life footage of the violence against protesters and embedding them inside a family drama.
The film was shot secretly and smuggled out of Iran to great acclaim. The filmmaker had to flee to Germany before Iranian leaders sentenced him to jail for years, and some of the cast and crew had to seek refuge in Europe. This film is an indictment against theocratic oppressive regimes that affect everybody, most of all the women of Iran. This film mentions and witnesses the story at the tail-end of March, Women’s Month.
The Seed of the Sacred Fig starts with a metaphor for a particular plant that becomes a parasite. It starts by integrating itself into a plant, eventually using its place and sustenance to kill the host plant. This is an apt metaphor for what a seemingly innocuous family development is when the father gets a promotion to be part of the oppressive judicial machinery of the regime.
What follows next are interconnected episodes that pit the family, particularly the daughters, against prevailing ideology. Then, the daughters go against the parents until this is a portrait of a family torn asunder by the regime itself.
The parasitic plant is the revolver given to the father by the authorities as part of his promotion. The revolver eventually goes missing, and this quiet family drama, primarily spoken in whispers, becomes a thriller. It went from Chekov and then to Chekov if he snorted cocaine. This movie hinges upon the tenets of patriarchy; that is, the father looks out for the family. The family’s cohesion and safety rely on the father’s control. This is how authoritarian regimes thrive: by invoking the father.
In the Philippines, we recently called a president known and accused of allowing mass murder and flippant lewd disregard for women “Tatay” (Father). In this mindset, women have no power. Not the wife, worse, even less for daughters. The trick is to seize the power.