On October 14th,2023, An Internationally prominent and acclaimed Iranian filmmaker, Darioush Mehrjui, and his scriptwriter wife, Vahideh Moahmmadifar, were slaughtered in their home in Iran. A few months before this tragic event, Mehrjui protested publicly against the censorship of his films and dared Iranian authorities to kill him.
Featuring rare and intimate footage from Mehrjui and his wife in the last months of their lives, this documentary offers a unique chance to see the life of an artist in a closed society. Here, a murdered filmmaker is talking about his legacy in battling with censorship in his country.
Cinema Without Borders: After watching your film, I noticed it has a strong and solid structure, which you usually don’t see in documentaries. It’s mostly when you are working on fiction you know that kind of structure. How did you manage to do that? Did you write a script, or did everything happen in the editing room?
Hassan Slolhjou: Honestly, we had a very limited time to film with Dariush Mehrjui. He was visiting France, and I had only a few days to prepare and shoot. I initially had no idea about the available locations or how we would interact with him. When we arrived in Strasbourg, I quickly realized that Mehrjui physically was not in a good shape to stay in front of the camera for hours. So, my original plans regarding shot lists and interviews became unattainable, and I had to adapt to the situation.
Despite not understanding the full significance at the time, I wanted to center the film around a phrase from “The Girl Is Missing.” The main character in the original movie repeats the line: “Don’t let the sun’s sunset somberness reflect in your eyes.” I found it both beautiful and poetic, and I aimed to make it the core of the story.
Though it wasn’t in the initial plan, this motif unexpectedly played a significant role in the involvement of his wife, who was not supposed to be part of the film at all. The documentary was meant to celebrate Mehrjui’s career in his own word. During an interview about “The Girl Is Missing,” he after repeating the line passionately, he added that this line had made him fall in love with Vahideh, who then responded off-camera. That beautiful exchange felt miraculous to me. At that moment, Mehrjui suggested including her in the film, and I thought, if they were allowing me to have both of them in the film, why shouldn’t I? The challenge was how to integrate her meaningfully and capture the essence of their interaction.
Thus, we subtly shifted the storyline, transitioning from historical storytelling to a narrative of love. The following day, when we returned to film set, he was still in bed, and I was running out of time. So I decided to show him in that state, and they fortunately allowed that. It was at that moment that the structure of the film began to take shape. I realized that scenes like this would be woven throughout the film.
Everything was unfolding organically in front of the camera, and I felt that my role was to document rather than direct. Aside from asking him a couple of times—like when I handed him a book to read—there was nothing added. He read from that powerful text [Orlando by Virginia Wolf], which magically resonated with the overall story, creating an incredible mood. This sequence became foundational for the entire structure, guiding the film’s direction.
Initially, I had a different plan, but as I began editing, I found myself steering the narrative toward a specific structure. I had intended to create a different film for his birthday, but after his murder, everything changed. The footage I had was not aligned with the new reality, requiring a complete reimagining from scratch. I found myself struggling with the limited footage we had gathered during our brief filming period.
In conceptualizing the film’s structure, I decided to start with wide, crowded shots that depicted a busy environment, gradually transitioning to a more intimate focus on him. This approach allowed us to explore his character, and ultimately, his solitude as the story progressed. It moved from the broader context of his interactions with society and friends to an introspective view of his inner self and feelings. At the beginning they are so many people around him but the final scene shows him all by himself.
Ultimately, this film is not just about Dariush Mehrjui; it tells the story of an artist navigating a closed society under a totalitarian regime. My focus was on how an artist struggles with censorship in such an environment, emphasizing his journey as a true artist.
CWB: I believe the film serves as a powerful statement about the oppression faced by artists and thinkers around the world.
HS: Absolutely. That was definitely in my mind. It’s not just about Mehrjui; it’s about the broader struggle of artists battling against censorship, regardless of geography. His story embodies the challenges faced by artists who have fought against oppression throughout their lives.
CWB: Another intriguing aspect of the film is your collaboration with him. How did you manage to work with him?
HS: That’s an important point. Initially, I wasn’t entirely keen on making a film about Dariush Mehrjui. I had seen a few documentaries featuring him, and he often appeared guarded in front of the camera. However, as we began our conversations over Zoom, he started to trust me. He recognized my familiarity with his work through my TV show on BBC, which he had been following for years.
When we discussed his films in detail, he was surprised by how deeply I understood his work—the structure, the characters, and specific scenes. Gradually, I gained his trust. He would consult me on various ideas and even involve me in discussions about his new script and I also discussed a few of my scripts with him.
Our first in-person meeting took place in Strasbourg, France. The initial day felt a bit distant, but by the second day, we grew closer. The key element was his trust. He even wrote something beautiful for me, stating that he would allow himself to be vulnerable in front of the camera and just be himself. I kept that letter as memorabilia.
Gaining access to someone’s personal life, especially someone well-known, is challenging; they often won’t let you into their private spaces. But he opened up, and that was remarkable. Moments like those are rare, and they create a genuine connection between the subject and the filmmaker.
For me, everything felt like a gift—a miracle that Mehrjui shared with me. Trust is essential for any filmmaker; without it, authenticity is lost. I am deeply passionate about capturing reality, the genuine moments that unfold in front of the camera, rather than creating fictionalized narratives.
Traditionally, cinema has relied on scripts that blend reality with imagination. However, this film is rooted in real-life experiences often left untold. Every person has a story worth sharing, and I am eager to uncover those real stories instead of fabricating characters based on imagination. Engaging with real people brings a richness and uniqueness to filmmaking that is irreplaceable.
Ultimately, capturing those authentic moments—like when Mehrjui read from a book and expressed genuine emotion—reveals the beauty of life. If you can seize that moment, you create something truly worth watching.
CWB: One of the important aspects of your film is its lasting emotional impact on the audience. Even after finishing it, the feelings linger and challenge viewers.
HS: I’ve had people tell me the same thing. They say the film stays with them, and even the next day, they call to express how it’s still on their minds. They feel a heaviness in their hearts, reflecting on the moments they experienced. This resonance isn’t solely because of Mehrjui’s tragic fate; it’s rooted in the authentic reality and true story presented in the film.
CWB: Did you incorporate any footage of him from Iran?
HS: Yes, we used a few clips that Mehrjuis provided, like him walking in his garden. There’s also a scene filmed in his library, where he discusses a bomb and talks about his books. I wasn’t sure initially if that footage would be useful, but during the editing process, it became a crucial element of the film.
CWB: The silent moments in your film are particularly powerful. They often convey more than dialogue.
HS: Absolutely. Those quiet moments are what make the film resonate. They allow the character to breathe and give the audience space to reflect. When watching silence, viewers learn a great deal about the character. It prompts questions—what happened, where am I? These pure moments create a direct connection between the character and the audience. I aim to observe rather than intrude, allowing the character and the audience to communicate through silence. That, to me, is the true beauty of filmmaking.
CWB: You mentioned that you were already familiar with his work.
HS: Yes, I had the opportunity to watch all his films in depth because I was preparing a season featuring his work for my TV program. I wanted to be thoroughly prepared for the interviews, especially since Mehrjui is not an easy person to interview. I’ve been a fan of his since my teenage years and consider him arguably the best Iranian director. Knowing his films well allowed me to identify key moments to incorporate into this project, establishing the right mood and bringing Mehrjui’s essence into the film.
CWB: How challenging was the editing stage?
HS: The editing was quite challenging. Initially, I had a different structure in mind for another film titled “Diamond in A Minor”,though I changed the title to “Sunset Somberness”, due to various rumors circulating on social media, I had to retain that name. This necessitated a complete restructuring of the film. I began editing with a collaborator, but I soon realized that I was very familiar with the footage and story. So, I decided to edit it myself, believing I could work faster.
From the outset, I envisioned starting and ending the film with scenes of Mehrjui protesting. These brackets would serve as the film’s main structure, framing his narrative through the lens of cinema. I wanted to tell the story in a way that acknowledged his tragic fate while also exploring his career. I faced a crucial decision: should I tell this story in a parallel or linear fashion? I didn’t want to ignore the fact that he and his wife were killed; instead, I sought to remind the audience of that ongoing tragedy while simultaneously chronicling his artistic journey.
This narrative approach required careful thought, and I realized that only Mehrjui himself could narrate his story. Finding suitable footage proved to be a hectic and difficult process. I wanted to maintain a fast-paced rhythm for the film, but access to relevant footage was limited. Unfortunately, many people in the Iranian cinema industry were hesitant to cooperate, fearing repercussions. While I understand their concerns, it was still a major challenge to gather materials.
In the midst of these difficulties, I owe a big thank you to Mahshid Zamani, a film critic and researcher based in California. She was instrumental in conducting research, providing feedback, preparing archive footage, and reaching out to individuals for support while I struggled alone in the editing room. Her dedication, without any expectation, was invaluable. Mahshid is passionate about cinema and an admirer of Dariush Mehrjui and was committed to seeing this film come to life. I want to thank her for her contributions any time I get a chance.
CWB: Are you currently working on any new documentary projects?
HS: Yes, I have several projects in the pipeline. One I’m particularly excited about is focused on the last day of a coffee shop in South London. This project is in English. We’re currently in the editing phase, which will take some time, and we’re also seeking funding for post-production and other aspects. But yes, I’m actively working on that one.
Hassan Solhjou is an award-winning filmmaker and Executive producer at BBC Persian. He has produced, created, written, and presented Apparat for over a decade on BBC Persian. This popular TV show analyzes and criticizes documentaries and independent movies from Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Tajikistan.
Solhjou has made over ten films, mainly documentaries in and out of Iran. Some of these films have won awards from National and international film festivals.
A few of his films:
■ Mullah’s Daughter (2019)
■ Persian New Yorker Stories (2016)
■ Image Latent (2014)
■ Daddy’s School (2013)
■ Simin resident of Wandering Island (2012)
■ Throw a stone into the water (2011)
■ The Birds I’ve Dreamed Of (2010)
■ In search of a healer (2007)
■ Fish Talking ( 2006)