in “The Seeds of the Wild Fig Tree”, by Mohammad Rasoulof, the Faustian pact of a judge in Iran

OFFICIAL SELECTION – IN COMPETITION

Sentenced on appeal to eight years in prison by the Islamic revolutionary court (but also to whipping and confiscation of his property), having resolved to leave Iran immediately for exile in Europe, the filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof, who arrived safe and sound, did indeed climb the steps of the Palais des Festivals, Friday May 24, in Cannes, to present his latest feature film, Wild fig tree seedsin official competition for the Palme d’Or.

This long and dense film, as the filmmaker likes, obviously condenses a lot of his experience as a persecuted artist, already in prison, struggling with censorship. It also testifies to the attention that the director pays to the social movement, in direct contact with current events, in particular the demonstrations which have spread, in 2022, under the banner “Woman, life, freedom”, following the death of student Mahsa Amini, arrested by the morality police. To do this, it adopts a form characteristic of Iranian auteur cinema, the thorny moral case closing like a trap on its characters.

The story opens with the image of a Faustian pact, a contract signed in close-up by a still anonymous hand. Iman has just been appointed investigating judge at the Tehran Revolutionary Court, a promotion he has wanted all his life. But the profession, misused by the hierarchy to facilitate convictions, is not viewed very favorably, so much so that the lucky person is given a gun to protect his back. The position does not come without demands of respectability that Iman places on the shoulders of his wife, Najmeh, and his two daughters, Rezvan and Sana, whom he enjoins to behave well.

Potential tyrant

At the same time, a wave of protest spread across the country, and slogans like “Down with theocracy!” » Or “Woman, life, freedom”. A generational divide is drawn inside the home: if the parents side with order, the girls, students, feel solidarity with the demonstrators, and find the revolt legitimate. They even take the risk of harboring, under the father’s nose, a fellow activist injured in the face in the middle of the procession by police repression. The mother gives up very reluctantly, but things take a turn for the worse when Iman, one fine morning, no longer gets her hands on her revolver.

Mohammad Rasoulof takes advantage of the duration – a busy 2 hours 48 minutes on the clock – to deeply infiltrate family relationships, probe their inner workings, finely sculpt the characters, multiply the interactions between characters. Even more than Iman, watchdog of power and potential tyrant, the character that stands out is undoubtedly that of Najmeh, the mother, a figure fascinating in its ambiguity. Agent of family harmony, she plays the mouthpiece of paternal authority, and therefore acts as guarantor of social order, even if it is contrary to her personal freedom or the aspirations of her daughters. It continues to oscillate on the narrow crest line that separates irreconcilable positions. Rasoulof depicts this generational divergence through a host of small, eloquent details: thus the parents are hypnotized by television, an organ of state propaganda, while their daughters get information on social networks, where they receive unfiltered videos of protests and police violence.

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