foto: Sameer Al-Doumy
One of Iran’s multi-award-winning international filmmakers, Mohammad Rasoulof, was also present at the Lisbon International Film Festival (LEFFEST) to display his latest film “The Seed of the Sacred Fig”, which was screened in Romania at Les Films de Cannes à Bucarest and the “Anonimul” Festival.
The film has already received several international awards including the Special Jury Prize and the FIPRESCI Prize at Cannes.
Mohammad Rasoulof has been in Europe since May, having left Iran clandestinely, on foot over the mountains, since his passport was confiscated in 2017 and he has been banned from leaving the country. He decided to leave to avoid serving his latest sentence, flogging and eight years in prison. The filmmaker has already been jailed twice since 2020 for his artistic activity. The films that prompted the authorities to react criticize Iran’s society and religious dictatorship. In 2017 “A Man of Integrity” won the Un Certain Regard prize at Cannes and in 2020 “There Is No Evil” was awarded the Golden Bear in Berlin.
“The Seed of the Sacred Fig” was filmed secretly without the authorities’ permission, with minimal technical means, and crew members in Iran are interrogated and threatened.
This is the only interview that Rasoulof gave for a romanian publication, Cultura la dubă.
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First of all how are you, how do you feel after all these months in Europe?
It’s a multi-layered question as since I arrived in Europe around May 10th I’ve been travelling so much with the film (NR:The Seed of the Sacred Fig), there’s so much to do to get the film distributed that it’s hard for me to give you an accurate answer.
At the same time I do have a base in Germany (NR-Hamburg), that is my second home at the moment, so I am very good. At the same time I’ve been travelling so much that I still did not find my centre.
I know you were in Cannes, Busan (NR: film festival in South Korea, as president of the jury), New York Film Festival, we are in Lisbon at LEFFEST now, how do you feel about travelling so much to all these festivals, what do you think you receive through these festivals, how does this make you feel?
The last time I got out of the country was seven years ago because before that I was a travel ban and could not travel. And so I got a chance to see “There Is No Evil” only today, after so many years. I’ve never seen it on the big screen. So it was a very special experience for me, and the same goes for all the other festivals that I attend.
I watch the film with different audiences from different countries, and I get to experience the film from people from different cultures and see their reactions. It’s very fulfilling and enriching for me, and it’s been going on.
Do you feel like this is a turning point in your life, like this is going to be a big change?
In terms of my life, yes, it’s already been a big change, because I had to leave the country.
But cinematically, I’m not sure if that’s the case, no, I’m still the same person. Because I’ve always worked under limitations and working around limitations.

And so even right now, when I’m not in Iran, those limitations still continue in one way or another. Me being outside of the country means that I’m free as a person, but I’m not necessarily free as a filmmaker, because I cannot make films in my own country. So sometimes I think about doing things in different genres, even doing animation, things that are not location-based. I’m trying to discover other forms. So it’s too early for me to give you a definite answer as to where I am.
How did you go from sociology to filmmaking? What made you do that? What was the ticking point?
Initially, I went to university to learn filmmaking, but then I realized that what they teach in film school is not necessarily a very complicated thing. And I’d rather learn those techniques and skills through experience and by experimenting with them and making films. What really mattered to me was the humanist aspect of it and sharing the human condition.
So you joined your interest in sociology, that’s also a lot about, let’s say, statistics and not so much about human condition, with anthropology, and film.
Yes, but now…when I look back, I don’t think sociology was the right path for me to go against censorship. It’s just a different experience that I try to bring into my films and bring into life. And I go against the definitions of genres and the classic cinema, a I like to break the forms and experiment with new ones. I think all of these things come from limitations, but these limitations are twofold. Sometimes the artist imposes those limitations on themselves, and sometimes the limitations come from outside. And in either case, you have to move forward and make it work.
You come from a culture that’s thousands of years old. How do you relate to that very rich past? How do you see the present in the context of a bigger history?
This history is a burden, this rich history is not always a positive thing. I think it does not always culminate in positive results when you have it on your back, because you cannot mix things. There’s always that confrontation between tradition and modernity. So, the fact that this country has that rich history behind it does not necessarily mean that, you know, that will reflect in its modern history. That is the case for Iran and many other countries. They all have very, very rich cultures, but they are struggling in their daily lives in the modern times.
I really admire our rich history in a way, but I also see traces of dictatorship and totalitarianism throughout this history. It’s weaved in with the history. And, of course, I’m critical of that.
A question that’s very important to me, personally. I noticed, or I feel, that Iranian films, not only yours, but those also that I saw over the years, have quality of subtlety and poetry in them. How important do you think poetry is in your culture? Although the subjects could be very harsh, there is still something poetical in them.
I think that’s very much inspired by the classic literature. And at the same time, the tyrannical regimes that have been in place over time, they have created their own aesthetics, in a sense, and the artists have to work within that.
Is Persian classical literature still very important nowadays?
This poetical approach has always been embedded in our culture throughout history as a way of confronting the power, since many many years ago.
Does it go across social classes? Or is it an intellectual thing?
No, even in usual conversation you can notice it. Do you know the concept of taarof in the Farsi language?
No, I don’t.
It’s a poetic way of being polite, where, for example, somebody offers you something and you have to refuse three times. So it’s as if the language has been formed in a way that the Persians do not have the means to say what they need directly. They have to wrap it up. And that’s where the poetry comes from, maybe. And that’s also very present in the literature.
Would anyone read classical literature, poetry, still nowadays, like really anyone?
They are very proud of it. It’s a source of pride, but also the metaphorical language of that classical literature has made its way into the Persian language. It’s ever-present. And that’s why I mentioned, when you have this rich history, you always sort of want to go back to it, but at the same time, it’s complicated. Instead of making something new, you always want to reference that.
Another subject that’s very present, in most Iranian films I’ve seen, is prison and judges. Not only in your films, in Mariam Moghadam’s also, for instance. What would be the reason?
You have a point here, and that’s because of the way the government has dealt with the people. There is no real correlation between their actual lives and what they have to face when they face the system.
I can give you an example: I met someone in prison who had lost all of his fingers because he had stolen something. And according to Sharia law, you lose your fingers if you steal. But they took him to the hospital and they actually reattached the fingers because in their eyes, and in the Sharia law, reattaching the fingers is not illegal. It’s alright to do that.
So they actually cut it off because that was the verdict, but then they sew them back. Wouldn’t your head just explode hearing this?

How do you find the courage, the spirit of sacrifice, although you’ve been to prison twice? How do you manage to go back to what you’re doing and go again? And I’m going to embed another question here, the same thing about the actors that work with you and the crew that works with you. You all, not only you, but your whole crew and all your team, face enormous risks.
I go to the people who already have this desire to go against the system. And then people who think like me also approach me to work with me. So that’s how the teams are created.
But I think the root of this courage goes back to their self-esteem and how they see themselves and want to see themselves.
The sense of honour you mean?
Their sense of identity. When you want to be yourself, you cannot tolerate censorship, right?

That makes me think about your film “A Man of Integrity”.
Yes!
Is there any Romanian director or film that you liked?
I was a jury in 2021 at the Berlinale, I loved Radu…(NR: Radu Jude, won the the Golden Bear in 2021 with “Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn”), all of his films. I like his courage and his clarity. It’s like he’s playing with the medium in a way. He doesn’t allow cinema to play with him, he plays with the medium.
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Thanks to the Leffest Festival team for their support in organising this interview.