Interview by Pina Piccolo. Cover image: Photo of Somayeh Haghnegahdar, courtesy of Mohsen Mahmoodzadeh.
It’s a great fortune and honor for The Dreaming Machine to engage in a conversation with Iranian documentary filmmaker, videographer and film editor Somayeh Haghnegahdar, active member, with Mohsen Mahmoodzadeh, of the Iranian Independent Filmmaker Association (IIFMA), an international group founded in November 2022. Initially over 100 diasporic and exiled Iranian directors came together to support the Woman Life Freedom movement that had started in Iran in September 2022 after the killing of Mahsa Amini. In the course of these two years, their numbers have now grown to over 300. The aim of the association is also to promote independent Iranian cinema both inside and outside Iran. In the early days of the association, Somayeh served as its spokesperson, as seen here on the red carpet of the Venice film festival, and now, as she focuses on her own film projects, she continues to promote Iranian cinema internationally, arranges screening and participates in Q and A sessions, gives interviews about the censorship and repression exercised by the Islamic Republic regime on culture and cinema, both in Iran and abroad.
Somayeh Haghnegahdar is currently living in Italy, having moved there with her family from Iran in the early 2020’s, due to the weight of censorship curtailing her film projects and family life. However, her ties to Italy run a lot deeper as she herself was born in Rome where her father and mother had moved in the 1970’s in order to study. There, her father joined the student movement demanding the fall of the Shah and an end to the monarchy, for a democratic future. However, after Khomeini and the Islamic regime’s rise to power, her parents decided to stay in Italy. In 1990, following friends’ reassurances that they would face no political problems, they decided to return to Iran for a family visit, but things did not turn out that way, as the regime took their passports away and forbade them to leave the country. Her father was not allowed to continue his studies. Somayeh’s traumatic reaction to the situation affected her speech, as she began to stutter and eventually stopped talking. Though unable to express his political views, her father was able to transmit to her a passion for images, recording everyday life with a camera and developing visual skills of observation. She carried these gifts into her schooling at the Art University of Teheran where she received her degree in filmmaking in 2001, followed by a career in film as editor of films that have garnered international recognition in prestigious venues such as Sundance, IDFA and Clermont -Ferrand.
Family photos from Somayeh Haghnegahdar personal archive depicting her childhood, from the left, 1. Somayeh with her father; 2 .Somayeh in front of the beach in Ostia;; 3. a still from her short Dear Paper Stars, with Zari Attaran Haghighi and Somayeh Haghnegahda; 4. IIFMA demonstration at the 80th edition of the Venice Film Festival, Somayeh and others holding the banner.
This year the Film Commission of the Regional government of Emilia Romagna has selected her film project in a competition and awarded it with financing. It is an autobiographical documentary interweaving the experiences of three generations of her family between Iran and Italy, in a personal journey through memory, exile and the struggle for freedom. A personal story that is universal at the same time, connecting her father Medhi, herself and her young daughter Aida (for a fuller account of both her family history and the details of her new film project, read this interview in Italian website leggilanotizia). We hope Someyeh will grant us a follow-up interview about the development of her project next year.
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Pina Piccolo: Before getting into your own documentaries, Somayeh Haghnegahdar, you are placed in an excellent position to talk about the more general issues of independent, Iranian filmmaking, these days, both inside and outside Iran. In a recent interview with Martin Scorsese, internationally acclaimed director Jafar Panahi (to the left, a still from his latest movie It Was Just an Accident) referred to the vibrant scene of young independent directors, one that deserves both exploration and exposure. Could you please paint a picture for our readers of the Iranian, independent filmmakers today?
Somayeh Haghnegahdar: Independent cinema in Iran means something different from the definition given in Europe and the United States. In those countries, the term generally refers to films made with smaller budgets and using different production methods compared to the mainstream industry. In Iran, however, in addition to this meaning, independent cinema first and foremost refers to works that were made by filmmakers who refuse to submit to the censorship of the Islamic Republic and operate without government permits and supervision.
In Iran, the Islamic regime has the official monopoly and control over filmmaking. This means that when a director has an idea and wants to make a film, in order to avoid the risk of the project being halted or interrupted, from the very beginning, the script must get approval from the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance. A control and supervision committee within the Ministry reviews the proposed scripts to ascertain whether they comply with ‘Islamic values’ and the ideological criteria of the regime. Even at this early stage, the work may be censored in form and content, or the committee may demand that parts of the script be modified.
However, supervision is not limited to the script: during the filming stage, the same committee is present on set to ensure that the film is made exactly according to the approved version. It even exercises its power in the choice of the technical crew, eliminating or replacing people according to its preferences. At the end of editing, the film must be reviewed again and, if necessary, receive further cuts or be censored before authorization for distribution is granted. In spite of all these restrictions in the course of making the film, even those that have passed all these stages are sometimes withdrawn from theaters due to pressure from extremist groups.
Under such a system, many directors try to orient their films in such a way as to risk as little censorship as possible. However, whenever a director makes a film without complying with these restrictions, he or she is considered a “criminal” under the law. A prime example is director Jafar Panahi, who, due to his refusal to accept censorship and impositions, has been banned from working, travelling abroad and has even been detained for years.
For this reason, being an independent filmmaker in Iran today doesn’t simply mean being forced to operate outside the official government system reserved to cinematography and not receiving funding or permits from the state. Most importantly, it means being someone who brings their ideas to fruition in a free manner, even though they are aware that this choice may expose them to very serious personal consequences, such as a work or travel ban, or even imprisonment. Maryam Moghadam and Behtash Sanaeeha, directors of the film My Favorite Cake, are another clear example of these consequences: they are still unable to work or travel and live in a State imposed form of isolation.
Even Iranian filmmakers living abroad are not immune to this reality. If a film made in the diaspora is in any way in conflict with Islamic criteria or steps over the red lines set by the Islamic regime, not only is its official distribution in Iran prevented, but the director is also prevented from returning to Iran freely and safely. This is why many Iranian filmmakers in the diaspora have now lost the opportunity to return to Iran.
P.P.: On the issue of censorship, could you please illustrate for our readers the different practices, from the most overt to a kind of self-censorship that directors themselves may find themselves exercising?
S.H.: In an authoritarian system, where thought and expression are constantly under the ax of censorship and repression, filmmakers inevitably resort to self-censorship, either consciously or unconsciously, in an attempt to protect themselves and go on working. Many choose topics that they know are less likely to be subjected to cuts or demands for modification; others find creative strategies to circumvent censorship, strategies that sometimes even result in the creation of extraordinary works.
However, what I have seen and experienced personally in Iran is that living and creating in such a stifling atmosphere ends up sooner or later either smothering your vitality altogether or, slowly and without you noticing it, turning you into someone similar to the system itself.
Photographs of Woman Life Freedom movement demonstrations in Iran, from the Internet.
P.P.: Since its foundation, IIFMA has been inextricably tied to the most important mass movement of these past few years in Iran, Woman, Life and Freedom. Can you talk a bit about why it is so central? What are its implications not only for Iran but for international struggles, which are undergoing a rough period with the rise of extremism, the spread of cultures of hate, general confusion in a world where old ideologies and paradigms have revealed their limitations and yet no new compass has emerged.
S.H.: The Woman, Life, Freedom movement represents a turning point in the history of people’s struggles in Iran. Extraordinarily courageous Iranian women have been at the forefront, leading it: the three-word slogan “Woman, Life, Freedom” does not belong only to Iran, but its value is universal and is a deeply rooted, human demand.
In a country where, according to UNESCO data, over 85% of women are educated, women’s fundamental rights have been ignored by the Constitution of the Islamic Republic for almost fifty years, and any form of protest is suppressed with systematic violence. We are under a regime of gender apartheid. After the killing of Mahsa (Jina) Amini, women of all social classes and ages took to the streets peacefully. Across Iran, widespread protests developed against Mahsa’s murder, against compulsory veiling, and against structural discrimination. And what was the state’s response? Firing against protesters and targeting their eyes and bodies, murders, mass arrests, and sexual violence in detention centers and prisons, all documented by reliable sources from Amnesty International.
Why do I call Iranian women “brave”? Because, even though they knew that every time they left their homes could be their last, they did not back down. The demonstrations went on for months, undeterred. Even though fierce repression, widespread executions, and arrests were eventually effective in reducing the presence of public protest, civil disobedience in the form of brave women walking in the streets without headscarves is still going on.
As for IIFMA: filmmakers and film professionals who had lived under the grip of censorship and repression—many of whom were forced to live outside the country—came together to found the Iranian Independent Filmmaker Association (IIFMA). In our official statement, also published on the website, one of our fundamental objectives is to strengthen the voice of the Iranian people fighting for freedom and to expose the regime’s propaganda in the film industry. For almost fifty years, the regime has been constructing and disseminating a distorted image of Iranian society through cinema, an image far removed from reality. The most obvious example is forcing directors to show all actresses strictly veiled at all times.
By participating in leading international festivals and organizing round tables with Iranian filmmakers in the diaspora, IIFMA has helped shed light on the propagandistic nature and censorship apparatus of government sanctioned Iranian cinema.
After the Women, Life, Freedom movement, independent Iranian cinema—both inside and outside the country—has enjoyed a moment of extraordinary visibility. This global attention has allowed a new and authentic face of Iranian cinema to be shown: independent films have won prestigious awards at major festivals, while government productions have been in effect excluded from competition. Another central point of the IIFMA declaration is precisely this: to provide concrete support for independent Iranian cinema, both within and outside the country’s borders.
P.P.: Going back to the challenges of this historical period, what do you think are the qualities of filmmaking as an art form that can help us confront our ‘dark times”? I am thinking about the role that neo-realist movies had in helping Italians express and face the shadows of the Fascist years (even their cinematic incarnation with the movies of ‘telefoni bianchi’ – white telephones or deco films). Could a similar process take place in Iran as well, a country that has a tradition of cultural vibrancy in spite of the dire circumstances. How does your own film making fit in? Who is your audience? How does the question of reception affect the whole process?
S.H.: Five years after the invention of cinema in France, cinematography arrived in Iran too, and it can most assuredly be said that the country has one of the most illustrious cinematic traditions in the Middle East. The name of Iranian cinema and its auteurs has shone for decades at the most important international festivals. At the same time, Italian Neorealism has always been a fundamental source of inspiration for Iranian filmmakers. Just this summer, during Asghar Farhadi’s masterclass in Bologna, we talked about how Neorealism is the very essence of cinema, and that Italy is its most authentic place of origin.
Iranian independent cinema, influenced by Neorealism and already active before the Islamic Revolution, entered a new phase after the ‘Woman, Life, Freedom’ movement. Over the last three years, thanks to realistic, contemporary and uncensored narratives, it has been able to present the world with a true and renewed image of Iranian cinema.
Iranian society is complex and stratified, and to represent this complexity, cinema also draws on the rich Persian literary tradition. Within this context, narrative autonomy has become a tool of resistance against censorship: a way to convey the essence of life in the heart of contemporary Iran, with all its contradictions, tensions, and beauty. This is clearly visible in the works produced by independent cinema over the past three years.
Filmmakers from the Iranian diaspora are also continuing along this path. Their works are not separate from the independent cinema produced in their homeland; on the contrary, they represent another form of resistance—resistance against authoritarianism, fundamentalism, and systematic censorship—expressed in a more universal language capable of reaching a wider audience.
P.P.: Going back to the question of film making as an art form, compared to other forms of art such as writing and even painting, it is one that requires a lot of technical equipment, collaboration during the different stages of realization, and finally the big issue of distribution. It’s a form of art that can run into a whole lot of obstacles under normal circumstances, let alone when it can be an embarrassment to a regime. Jafar Panahi, in his interview with Scorsese talked about the difficulties of filming in Iran, due to the censorship, and how that forced directors and crews to come up with solutions, which sometimes yielded brilliant results. Can you talk a bit about the difficulties young, independent directors face, both at the production, post production and distribution phases? Can you give some examples of solutions that you are familiar with?
S.H.: Many of the director’s choices are severely limited when a film project has to be developed clandestinely. The need to not attract attention impacts a variety of factors from the selection of work tools to the number of people on set, from the choice of locations to the number of takes and the overall duration of filming. Under these circumstances, the film must be made as quickly as possible, with a reduced budget, a minimal crew, and light equipment. In order to protect the group and anticipate any unforeseen events, it is absolutely necessary to make sure that no one notices the project.
Personally, I have never had such an experience, but I can picture that, in such a vulnerable situation, the director ends up behaving like the commander of a small partisan group: while creating a work of art, they guide, protect, and support their crew so that the project reaches its goal safely. And this care does not end with the production stage, it continues through post-production, until the film is finally completed.
Considering what happens to many filmmakers after their work is distributed—from professional restrictions to travel bans for directors and their crews—the pressure becomes even heavier. In the case of Jafar Panahi, this did not happen: the regime could not, and chose not to, openly hinder his presence and that of his team at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival. But for many other directors and groups, episodes of this kind have happened repeatedly. There are directors who, during filming or post-production, have been arrested, had all their footage seized, and been detained along with their collaborators. This way of making films is, in itself, a form of true partisan filmmaking.
A worker removing the poster of Iranian film The Parental House after it was banned by authorities during its screening. October 29, 2019.
P.P.: Turning now from filmmaking taking place in Iran, to the production of films by Iranians who, like yourself, live abroad and continue your artistic endeavors in other countries, could you please talk a bit about what are the opportunities and challenges faced by Iranians making films and documentaries abroad, both in production, post-production and distribution? Are these films eventually seen by Iranians in Iran as well? I am sure there is a range of problems and opportunities and they vary according to country, but as a documentary film maker operating abroad yourself, you are eminently placed to answer.
S.H.: The challenges of filmmaking while being in a migrant situation are vast and complex. First of all, you need to have a thorough understanding of your host country: its language, the structure of its film industry, regulations, and production dynamics. Then you need to start building a network: identify people working in this industry, introduce yourself, forge connections, and establish trust. You need to learn how to tell your story in a way that local audiences and producers can understand and support, without losing the spirit of your work and your artistic identity and integrity. Also essential is knowing how to make films that use a more universal language, works that can transcend cultural boundaries and engage with a wider international audience.
For this reason, achieving professional stability in cinema abroad is by no means easy: it requires knowledge, perseverance, tenacity, and the ability to build solid professional relationships. Understanding which topics are likely to attract a producer’s interest also plays a decisive role.
On the other hand, continuity of work is essential: even when a project is not completed yet you already need to think about the next idea; you need to stay in the flow, active and present, starting the next film even before you have put the finishing touches on the previous one. It is precisely this continuity that, over time, consolidates your professional position in diaspora and migration.
From the left: Still frames from The Recess; scene from The Seed of the Sacred Fig Tree.
P.P.: By way of concluding I would like your comments on two films I was personally struck by: a long feature film The seed of the sacred fig tree and a short film titled The Recess. The latter, in 11 minutes, lets audiences gain a window into the soul and motivations of the “blue girl” Sahar Khodyari in an 8 minute tableau of her interactions with her schoolmates just prior to going to the stadium, prepared to enter to see the soccer game disguised as a boy. Both employ choral perspectives in which women and young girls are the primary movers and shakers. We see the stumbling blocks they face as well as their different modes of defiance. In the first the presence of males is exemplified by the Judge, the figure of authority whose presence is always looming, the second one has no males on the set, they are only evoked either as objects of desire or scorn. The ‘blue girl’ wants to go to the stadium to see a soccer game, an activity forbidden to females, so males are cast in a threatening or accomplice position, guards or male spectators could either stop and punish her or be complicit and help. Different strategies and options are discussed with her schoolmates during the recess, and the discussion even faces the threat of other girls who could spy or by adult women representing the authority of the regime. What do these two films tell us about the real women, men, girls, boys of today in Iran?
S.H.: These two films offer a direct and authentic look at today’s Iran, where women and girls have become the driving force for change. In The Seed of the Sacred Fig Tree — nominated in the 2025 Academy Awards for Best International Feature Film — the male presence coincides mostly with power and control, the authority that weighs on women’s daily lives. In The Recess, on the other hand, the physical absence of men is in itself a statement: the conflict takes place between women and girls, showing how repression is not only gender-based but structural, and often reproduced by those who serve the system.
Both films tell the story of a new generation — especially girls — who no longer allow themselves to be intimidated. They resist both with small and grand gestures: from the desire to enter a stadium to the courage to challenge a patriarchal judiciary. At the same time, they show men who are often dominant, sometimes absent and marginalised, or, among the younger ones, busy redefining their role.
Ultimately, these films bear witness to a country in transition: a painful but inevitable passage, led by women who are shaping the future and men who must rethink their place in it.
P.P.: Thank you so much, Somayeh, for agreeing to this interview. Best of luck on all your efforts, both organizational and artistic, and we are looking forward to a follow up interview after your documentary is released.
