Getting an Oscar nomination is quite rare for countries outside the US and Europe. So, it’s a testament to the power of Iranian cinema that this year two films from the country were nominated. Mohammad Rasoulof’s The Seed of the Sacred Fig competed as one of the best five nominees for Best International Feature Film before losing to I’m Still Here from Brazil. But Iranians were not to go home empty handed.
The Oscars for Best Animated Short Film went to In The Shadow of the Cypress by Shirin Sohani and Hossein Molayemi, getting a historic third Oscar for the country after two previous wins by Asghar Farhadi in 2012 and 2017 (Iranian-American filmmaker Rayka Zehtabchi also won an Oscar in 2019 for a short documentary.)
The two films were both made in Iran by Iranian filmmakers but with an important distinction. While Sohani and Molayemi live in Iran, and their film was produced by a state-owned artistic institution, Rasoulof has been hounded out of the country and lives in exile in Germany. His film, which was shot clandestinely in Iran, officially represented Germany at the Oscars.
In effect, they represent two branches of Iranian cinema: Iran’s official and underground cinemas. There is also a third branch, films made outside the country by the Iranian diaspora, such as Holy Spider by Copenhagen-based Ali Abbasi, which was chosen as the Danish entry for the 2023 Oscars and made the shortlist.
But just because a film is produced inside the country, or even by state-owned institutions, doesn’t mean that it is government propaganda. Far from it, Iranian filmmakers have long made an art out of using the limited freedom of speech available in their country to tell humanistic tales, often with universal themes, which can connect with audiences both at home and abroad.
Sohani and Molayemi’s film is in this very tradition, depicting the soulful life of an old man and his daughter in a southern coastal Iranian city. The film is without any dialogue, but its sensibility remains unmistakably Iranian, linked to the country’s poetic heritage. Its story of a family dealing with traumas of war is both universal and quite suited to Iran, which suffered an eight-year-long war with Iraq in the 1980s.
Upon accepting their award, Sohani and Molayemi spoke of the many “sufferings” of their fellow Iranians and likened their win to a “miracle”. It indeed felt like one.
Not only had they not had the chance to be present in the US to campaign for their film, they got their visa so late that they were able to make it to Los Angeles only a few hours before the ceremony. By the time they drove across LA’s traffic to the Dolby Theatre, most nominees were already seated.
Their visa difficulties pale next to all that Iranian authorities have done to Rasoulof in recent years. Having been arrested and banned from filmmaking several times, the director stubbornly continued to make his films in secret, still winning awards from top festivals such as Cannes and Berlinale.
Last year, after being sentenced to eight years in prison, he finally fled Iran. His The Seed of the Sacred Fig revolves around the story of a few young women during the mass anti-regime protests of 2022-2023. Its bold and politically unapologetic portrayal of the events has impressed audiences around the world. But the government in Tehran has brought down the axe. The film’s female lead, Soheila Golestani, has been charged with “propaganda against the regime and spreading immorality”.
She is currently barred from leaving the country, which means she couldn’t be at the Oscars or at the Rotterdam Film Festival, where she had been picked to be on the jury. A similar treatment was meted out to Behtash Sanaeeha and Maryam Moghadam, directors of My Favorite Cake, another clandestine Iranian film which premiered at Berlinale last year.
On Sunday, just as the Oscars got under way, a court in Tehran started trying the two directors as well as four other members of the cast and crew. They are charged with “producing obscene content and hurting public morale and decency”.
This might shock those who got to see the film, which tells the sweet story, a meet-cute, of a man and a woman in their 70s. There is nothing explicit in the film. It doesn’t even show a kiss. But just because the female lead has her head uncovered, thus portraying how millions of Iranians actually live, Tehran has treated it harshly.
Faced with the Iranian government’s repression of filmmakers, the global cinematic community has naturally warmed up to Iran’s underground cinema. The Seed of the Sacred Fig and My Favorite Cake have collected awards from festivals around the word, lauded by several critics. Conversely, even many of Iran’s own filmmakers didn’t take part in the annual state-sanctioned Fajr Film Festival of Tehran last month.
But it’s unfortunate that this support sometimes also includes disregarding films made legally in Iran. These days, such films can hardly be found on the festival circuit. Even when Leila’s Brothers by Saeed Roustayi made it to the Cannes’ official competition in 2022, it couldn’t find proper distribution in the West.
Some have come to taint films made in Iran as somehow associated with the Iranian government. The legendary Farhadi was publicly attacked by Rasoulof in 2021, because one of his actors had played in regime-sanctioned films. Such zealotry would exclude most films made in Iran.
It would be unfortunate if this bifurcation, between official and underground cinema, develops into enmity. It is encouraging to see Rasoulof congratulate Sohani and Molayemi after posting a picture with them. He noted that they had travelled “a long, difficult and turbulent path” to the Oscars.
If this touching Oscars’ night story shows anything, it is that festivals and audiences abroad would do well to promote both – films legally made and shown inside Iran and those that come out of its burgeoning underground scene.
From an artistic point of view, it should also be noted that some of the best traditions of Iranian cinema are lost in the overt on-the-nose didacticism shown in The Seed of the Sacred Fig or some other clandestine films such as Jafar Panahi’s 3 Faces.
What made filmmakers like Abbas Kiarostami and Asghar Farhadi global cinematic legends was their offering of humane stories that, by their very focus on real lives, stayed away from the state-sanctioned ideologies. An oppositional cinema that forces its politics on the audience deserves applaud for courage but it won’t be an artistic step forward.
