Marva Nabili’s The Sealed Soil

Everyone keeps telling Roo-Bekheir that she is lucky because she can say “no” to her suitors—but they don’t think she should. At the advanced age of eighteen, she is considered an old maid by her provincial neighbors. For those of us living in the modern world, it might seem understandable that the teenaged girl simply is not ready to marry, but her traditional Iranian village assumes she must be possessed in Marva Nabili’s The Sealed Soil, which is now playing in Brooklyn.

The Sealed Soil is the oldest surviving Iranian film directed by a woman. That means it survived the Revolutionary Islamic regime that would take power not long after it was produced in 1977. Banned by the regime, it has never been publicly screened in Iran, even though it is not explicitly political.

Yet, ironically, it indirectly burnishes the much-maligned reputation of the Shah, who passed the reforms that allowed women like Roo-Bekheir to have a say in her marital status. She keeps exercising that right, by maintaining her spinsterhood. It so baffles her village, the chief comes to give her a talking to. Rather perversely, he reminds her that her own mother was married away at the age of seven and frequently ran away from her abusive husband when she was ten. Somehow, this pep talk is supposed to encourage to finally accept a suitor.

Weirdly, The Sealed Soil shares a kinship with Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman, 23 Commerce Quay, because it relentlessly captures the soul-crushing repetition and toil of Roo-Bekheir’s hardscrabble life. Much is made of the eventual exorcism, but many viewers would consider it over-hyped. The scene lacks the drama we would expect from a demonic horror movie, which is presumably why endures the ritual more as a hassle than an ordeal.

Frankly, an understanding of the film’s historical and cultural context probably helps the viewing experience. It is supposed to be a grind, because Nabili wants the audience to feel all the discomfort of Roo-Bekheir’s life. Seriously, she rubs our noses in it. Yet, her aloof tone keeps viewers at arm’s length.

Indeed, Flora Shabaviz’s lead performance keeps viewers on the outside looking in, rather than revealing her character’s inner emotions. Still, she has an impressive freak-out.

Regardless, The Sealed Soil captured a lot of truth with respect to the misogyny and rigid stratification of Iranian society that would soon become even truer. Nevertheless, it is more interesting as a cultural document than as a film to become immersed in. Respectfully recommended for patrons of Persian cinema, mostly as a cinematic time capsule, The Sealed Soil is now playing at BAM.