NEW YORK (AP) ā Shortly before he was to be flogged and imprisoned for eight years, fled Iran.
His weekslong journey would take him from Tehran, through rural Iranian villages, on foot across a mountainous borderland and ultimately to Hamburg, Germany. As arduous and dangerous as the trip was, Rasoulofās travels had an added wrinkle: He was trying to finish a movie at the same time.
A week after arriving in Germany, āThe Seed of the Sacred Figā at the Cannes Film Festival in France. As he fled, Rasoulof was preoccupied with the movieās edit, which was being carried out in Germany.
āI remember when I was sitting in the car that was driving me to the border,ā Rasoulof says. āI had my laptop and I was taking notes and sending them to my editor. The two friends who were taking me kept saying, āPut that thing away for a second.āā
In Cannes, āThe Seed of the Sacred Figā and Rasoulof was celebrated with a 13-minute standing ovation. The movie has since been hailed as one of the best of the year, and arguably its most daring.
Rasoulof made āSacred Figā clandestinely in Iran, directing scenes from a separate location to avoid raising suspicions. (The opening titles read: āWhen there is no way, a way must be made.ā) Its story ā a devastating family drama set during ā would surely only add to Rasoulofās prison sentence.
So after all of this, how is he feeling? When he recently met with The Associated Press for an interview, Rasoulof shrugged. āOrdinary,ā he says.
Rasoulof, 52, has a more gentle, bemused presence than some of his films would suggest. But how could Rasoulof, after what heās lived through this year, feel anything like ordinary?
āI still havenāt grasped the meaning of exile,ā he explains. āI think it will take some time. The feeling of that void has not hit me yet, and I think it may never come.ā
Rasoulof has been busy traveling from film festival to film festival. In September, he and his 24-year-old daughter attended the Telluride festival in Colorado. Many more such stops were to come. Since fleeing Iran, Rasoulof has effectively been immersed in the world heās long known: cinema.
āMaybe I am living in the world of cinema, and maybe thatās why things are so familiar,ā he agrees. āMaybe thatās why I donāt feel Iām in exile.ā
āThe Seed of the Sacred Fig,ā currently playing in theaters, is the Oscar submission from Rasoulofās adoptive home, Germany. Heās settled in with his family, grateful for how the country has welcomed him. Speaking through an interpreter, Rasoulof grants that heāll probably always mentally have a bag packed, ready to return to Iran should the chance ever come. But what āhomeā constitutes has changed for him.
āI might be able to change this concept of home for myself,ā he says. āI walk on the streets here and I see people of different colors and forms from all over the place, and they all call this place home. So thereās always the chance that one can build something new.ā
How oppressive politics can infiltrate the home is central to āThe Seed of the Sacred Fig.ā It concerns a family of four: Iman (Missagh Zareh), a lawyer newly appointed to the Revolutionary Court in Tehran; his wife, Najmeh (Soheila Golestani) and their two daughters, Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami) and Sana (Setareh Maleki).
Iman is proud of his high position, but, when the government crackdown on accelerates, his daughters are increasingly at odds with him. After Iman's gun goes missing, his wife and daughters turn into suspects. āThe Seed of the Sacred Fig,ā populated with real cellphone videos from the protests, plays out as an excruciating microcosm of Iranian society.
āIt wasnāt like I put those videos in. They just came in,ā says Rasoulof. āThe reality is that it was through those videos I realized what happened. When the Woman, Life, Freedom movement occurred, I was in prison.ā
Rasoulof has spent several spells in Tehranās Evin Prison. In 2010, he was arrested on set for filming without a permit. In 2022, he was jailed for seven months after pursuing the release of another of Iranās most prominent filmmakers, Jafar Panahi. Panahi, was only after commencing a hunger strike.
āMy windows at home opened to the hills that have the Evin prison in them,ā says Rasoulof. āI knew behind those walls many of my friends were sitting.ā
Rasoulof, inspired by the resolved to pour the same spirit into āThe Seed of the Sacred Fig.ā Although it wasnāt until Rasoulofās appeal of his sentence failed that he resolved to flee, he grants that deciding to make āSacred Figā essentially sealed his fate.
āMaking this film was part of that decision,ā he says. āAlthough I had made up my mind earlier, because it was such a bitter decision, I was denying it and delaying it, waiting for a miracle to allow me to stay.ā
āI would open the fridge to make sure there was nothing there that would go bad,ā he adds. āIt was a strange circumstance.ā
For the film's actors and crew members, signing up for the movie meant also becoming co-conspirators. Everyone knew the risks. And, like Rasoulof, many of them have since left Iran. Rostami and Maleki also now live in Germany. Asked if his collaborators are all currently safe, Rasoulof responds: āNo one is safe from the Islamic Republic.ā
In his new life, Rasoulof is experiencing freedoms he never had in Iran. His films, for example, are widely available outside his native country but not in Iran. His prize-winning 2020 drama āThere Is No Evil,ā about capital punishment in Iran, is banned ā though, ironically, Rasoulofās prison guards enjoyed watching it with him from a flash drive.
āI havenāt seen many of my films on a big screen, especially my last film,ā he says. āI really want to see āThere Is No Evilā on a big screen. A festival in Portugal has promised to take me to see my own film.ā
The name of Rasoulofās film comes from his memory of an ancient fig tree he once visited on an island in the south of Iran. Itās a tree that, with apparent metaphorical meaning for the Iranian government, spreads its seeds onto other trees, killing them and growing in their place.
Rasoulof pulls out his phone to share a photo of his apartment in Tehran. Outside a large window, you can see the walls of Evin running along a craggy hillside. Inside are many houseplants.
āThis is my home,ā he says. āI have a lot of plants. I really miss my plants. I have a neighbor who takes care of them for me. I actually have a fig tree at home.ā
Jake Coyle, The Associated Press
