Why anonymity and channeled rage were essential for SHIRZAN to Rise

You’ve chosen to use an anonymous alias for your short, Rise. Could you share any details about your heritage and connection to the story that you feel comfortable with?

As an Iranian, writing and directing Rise meant I’ve now exiled myself from going back, and to be honest, I sometimes feel selfish even grieving that loss.

I always find my anonymity the hardest question to answer.

Would centring myself in a film for the #WomanLifeFreedom movement be the right thing to do? For the sake of some kudos?

As an Iranian, writing and directing Rise meant I’ve now exiled myself from going back.

My name wasn’t important. My writing felt bigger than me; it was not for me to revel in.

So, I came up with an alias that represented all of us: SHIRZAN in Persian means ‘lion woman’; it is a dedication to all of the women of Iran and Afghanistan.

We are all SHIRZAN.

When did you first know you wanted to be a director? What led you to it?

Honestly, it might sound crazy, but a couple of years ago, I felt like I was aching from anger.

Writing wasn’t enough of an outlet for my anger; it was a pointless mosh pit of verbs and adjectives bashing into one another with no outcome.

I knew I needed to give my rage more structure, form, shape, and colour.

That was when my path as a director began.

The story is an interpretation of the murder of Mahsa Jina Amini, though it doesn’t feel like a standard reconstruction. How did you decide on the way the story needed to be told, and what influenced/informed you?

I took the key elements of what happened to Mahsa, and I also personally interviewed people who had been physically assaulted by the morality police.

Then I wrote RISE as an ode to all the girls who had been killed.

The film takes a brutal, shocking turn a few minutes in. Were there ever any thoughts to eschew the ‘normality’ and go straight to the brutality, or was the contrast always a key aspect of the narrative?

Yes, I wanted to show the normalcy of a teenager's joy and how it was then, in turn, shattered.

Likewise, despite the tragedy, the film’s ending and message is one of resistance and, ultimately, power. How important was it to end on a rousing note?

Our rage is beautiful. That’s all I kept saying to myself when I was writing the script.

I wanted to show the world that the girls will live on through our movement.

I wrote RISE as an ode to all the girls who had been killed.

Death is not the end of their spirits.

‘Still I Rise’ by Maya Angelou was something I felt would give that sentiment of ‘beautiful rage’ a universality.

Your cast is exceptional and were obviously faced with extremely difficult scenes. How did you draw the performances, and was it difficult to balance safeguarding with authenticity?

Casting was incredibly tough.

Anyone who took part could never return to Iran again, never see family there again, there is a fear of retribution on friends and relatives, never have that sense of belonging again… it’s a lot to give up.

Consequently, we had people auditioning, then panicking, then dropping out.

And I would have these tough conversations during casting callbacks, to ensure they had really contemplated the gravitas of the film.

I felt responsible for each person.

Anyone who took part could never return to Iran again, never see family there again.

Later on, I had some cast worried that the whole production was an elaborate trick by the regime to kidnap them—that’s the level of Persian paranoia that exists.

I had to nurture and protect my cast, in particular, the two female leads. The gruelling training for the physical violence was a lot to deal with.

I tried to keep everyone apart so that the intensity built on set; there was a silence between takes that kept us all in the moment.

Ironically, the real police actually turned up unannounced at the street scene, in several vans, which took us all by surprise. A politician had made a noise complaint, so we were all working under the intensity of the real police looming over us on set.

What do you feel you’ve learned from making this film?

Lesson 1: Don’t let the patriarchy get you down.

Lesson 2: Channel the rage into art.

Lesson 3: Never let your budget hold you back. With a very small film budget, we told a story that made it onto the US mainstream news, Variety magazine, etc., won at Cannes Lions, British Arrows, etc.

Never let your budget hold you back.

And a technical lesson…

Lesson 4: Never let anyone put the film on social media prior to the Oscars and BAFTAs. We qualified for both, which was incredible, but we discovered we could not submit due to the film being online… which was heartbreaking for everyone who had sacrificed so much for this film.