The New Yorker:

In Mohammad Rasoulof’s searing film, contemporary social unrest threatens to tear an Iranian family apart.

By Justin Chang

The four central characters in “The Seed of the Sacred Fig,” a gripping, superbly acted drama from the Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof, are introduced with an almost ceremonial deliberation. First up is Iman (Misagh Zare), a lawyer who has just been appointed to the high-risk position of investigating judge; armed with the news, and a handgun issued for his protection, he drives to a mosque and spends a few moments in prayer. (Is he thanking God or pleading for mercy?) A hushed solemnity persists later at home, where Iman discusses matters with his wife, Najmeh (Soheila Golestani), in conspiratorial whispers. In the morning, we meet their daughters, Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami), a sensitive twenty-one-year-old, and Sana (Setareh Maleki), a mischievous, sharp-witted teen-ager; at last, Najmeh says cryptically, the two of them will no longer have to share a bedroom. Only later that day do we see all four family members together, at a restaurant, where Iman shares the ostensibly good news in full.

Rasoulof doesn’t just lay out a premise in these early scenes; he presents the family as a rigidly hierarchical and compartmentalized unit. Iman, walled off by work, is a largely absent authoritarian; Najmeh nervously acts as a conduit, passing along vague information from husband to children. As for Rezvan and Sana, their wary glances signal their growing exasperation with their parents’ rules, which are only about to intensify. Given the dangers of Iman’s new position, the girls must take special care not to harm his reputation, which means minding who they hang out with, abiding by the hijab laws, and keeping low social-media profiles. Their mother warns, “You must be irreproachable.”

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