THE SEALED SOIL – Review by Diane Carson
The Sealed Soil documents an Iranian woman’s resistance to marriage
More an ethnographic study than a fictionalized drama, Iranian writer/director Marva Nabili’s The Sealed Soil documents 18-year-old Rooy-Bekheir’s powerlessness to refuse marriage despite her profound resistance. Establishing a philosophical context, opening titles quote Albert Camus’ The Rebel at length: “Before man accepts the sacred world and in order that he should be able to accept it – or before he escapes from it and in order that he should be able to escape from it – there is always a period of soul-searching and rebellion.” Rooy-Bekheir’s rebellion will stand front and center in The Sealed Soul as she adamantly resists accepting social dictates. However, tragically, she is not able to accept nor to escape that world Camus posits as absurd, a dilemma at the heart of the film.
Unfortunately, Rooy-Bekheir stands alone. Set in 1977 rural Iran, increasing modernization nearby and a proposed hospital soon to displace Rooy-Bekheir’s home both reinforce the oppressive patriarchal dictates governing this community. Resolute, Rooy-Bekheir refuses to visit the new town being constructed, even to avail herself of the water supply available there. Trapped in this environment, Rooy-Bekheir leads a typical Iranian woman’s life. Calmly, she starts and fans the wood fire, makes tea, cooks, washes dishes in a nearby stream, hustles the young children off to school, gathers brush, and sifts grain with scattered seeds feeding the yard’s many chickens. What Rooy-Bekheir will not do is accept a suitor, though she’s told that her marriage is long overdue. Doubling down on their denunciation of her defiance, Rooy-Bekheir’s mother, younger sister and neighbors sharply criticize her. Chastised, she’s reminded that her mother married at seven and had four children by Rooy-Bekheir’s age.
Soon the Chief arrives, a rug is quickly spread on the dirt for him to sit, he confers with local men, and it’s settled. Rooy-Bekheir has no say. Hearing a woman comment that the devil will cast a spell on her foreshadows Rooy-Bekheir’s wildly hysterical attack on the chickens, confirming for all her demonic possession. The subsequent, detailed exorcism involves mixing dust from the cemetery with feathers of a bird, all then burned to drive out the evil spirit. Sadly, Rooy-Bekheir enjoys release only one time when she retreats to the woods and luxuriates in the gentle rain that surprises her there, offering a blissful respite accentuated when she removes her chador.
Based on the actual story of a young woman in this village in the Khouzestan district, southwestern Iran, peasants there were driven off their land in the service of progress. In this circumscribed world, Rooy-Bekheir is shown trapped within the courtyard in which chickens peck and circle, no escape possible. A walled gate increases the feeling of entrapment, for Rooy-Bekheir’s future is bleak in a culture of disenfranchised women.
During this time of the Shah’s reign, because of its critique of the pervasive, misogynistic paternalism that restricts women’s choices, Nabili’s work was considered illegal. As a result, after surreptitiously shooting on 16-millimeter film, Nabili had to smuggle the negative out of the country for developing and editing. As impressive, as press notes explain, The Sealed Soil is “the earliest, complete surviving feature film directed by an Iranian woman.” It was a challenging, mere $30,000 project. Close to a documentary in its design and technique, apart from the extraordinary Flora Shabaviz as Rooy-Bekheir, Nabili cast local Ghalleh Noo-Asghar villagers and opted for minimal technology. She worked with a crew of five in natural light over a mere six days with sparse dialogue and an astonishing two-to-one ratio in contrast to the average 10:1 to 20:1 for most feature films. Reinforcing this nonfiction approach, cinematographer Barbod Taheri rarely moves the camera, composing long shots from a medium distance, completely eliminating cutting in to close-ups or inserting reaction shots.
Explaining her stylistic choices, Nabili emphasized her preference for Brechtian distancing. In that way, as Brecht posited, alienation effects reduce emotional involvement with characters in favor of attention to the cultural and sociopolitical considerations. That context is clearly established. Nevertheless, the omnipresent emotional trauma resonates powerfully in every scene as well as in a staggering conclusion. Available from Arbelos Films in a new 4K restoration, The Sealed Soil is in Farsi with English subtitles.
