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Nothing about Mohammad Rasoulof\u2019s \u201cThe Seed of the Sacred Fig\u201d happened overnight. The authoritarian Iranian government is both the subject of the three-hour film and the background of the film\u2019s production, forcing both Rasoulof<\/a> and several cast members<\/a> into exile during the film\u2019s on-and-off<\/a> three-month-long shoot. With meticulously planned camera shots and remarkable courage amid government persecution, Rasoulof has delicately crafted \u201cThe Seed of the Sacred Fig\u201d into a compelling narrative that reflects his unwavering dedication to speak truth to power.<\/p>\n \u201cThe Seed of the Sacred Fig\u2019s\u201d mastery has layers. The film is a potent metaphor for Iran\u2019s theocratic regime, using the dynamic of a flailing family to investigate how civilians be complicit in facilitating systemic oppression. Set during the start of the protests for the Woman, Life, Freedom<\/a> movement after Mahsa Amini\u2019s<\/a> death, the film follows judge Iman (Missagh Zareh, \u201cA Man of Integrity\u201d), whose recent promotion in the prosecutor\u2019s office requires him to sign death sentences without proper investigation. If Iman refuses to sign them, he will lose his position as his predecessor did before him. He signs these sentences despite his qualms, with his wife Najmeh (Soheila Golestani, \u201cA Bigger Game\u201d) cautiously supporting him. His teenage daughters, Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami, debut) and Sana (Setareh Maleki, \u201cCafe\u201d), however, increasingly challenge his beliefs as the government cracks down on the protests. This familial tension comes to a head when Iman loses a gun that the prosecutor\u2019s office gave him, leading him to suspect his family members of stealing it.\u00a0<\/p>\n Every scene in the film is carefully chosen. Rasoulof and cinematographer Pooyan Aghababaei chronicle the willful ignorance of civilians in elevated positions for the selfish protection of their own skin \u2014 and how it always ends badly for them. Initially, Iman chooses to remove himself, and thus the viewer, from his unethical work. Near the start of the film, Rasoulof focuses on Iman in the middle of the screen as he walks to his office after signing his first death sentence. The long hallway he moves through contains many holding cells. Just as Iman closes the windows at home to block out the chants of protesters on the streets, he pays no attention to the holding cells around him as he walks in a straight line. Iman\u2019s intentional ignorance means that these scenes pass by quickly and without any consequence. In contrast, Rasoulof spends considerable time on several scenes of Iman in the evenings after work reflecting: either on his repressed doubt and unwavering faith in the government or his undoubting and trusting family. The gun is still in Iman\u2019s possession, and the situation is framed as something that\u2019s happening to<\/em> him rather than something he\u2019s actively choosing to participate in, since he\u2019s merely trying to keep his job and provide for his family.\u00a0<\/p>\n However, during the second and third scenes of Iman walking down the hall to his office, Aghababaei allows the viewer to see that there are people blindfolded and handcuffed to the wall. There are also cardboard cutouts of officers next to each prisoner. While the purpose of the cardboard cutouts isn\u2019t clear, they seem to serve as a symbolic depiction of government officers being stationary, peaceful enforcers of the law. There aren\u2019t any signs of physical or verbal struggle from the protesters, meaning that Iman is able to walk past them without a second thought. Yet, the viewer is confronted with this image depicting the larger consequences of his actions.<\/p>\n