Niloo is an ordinary girl in Iran, she is having a good time with her friend but things get horrible when morality police intervene. It’s a tribute to Women, Life, Freedom movement and Mahsa Amini.

Niccolò Montanari: Rise is a tribute to the Women, Life, Freedom movement influenced by recent events in Iran, including the death of Mahsa Amini. How did you shape the narrative and story in Rise, balancing brutality with a message of resistance?

SHIRZAN: I was bubbling over with anger. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had family members who had been shot at while protesting. We were all angry, we saw our young people being butchered for their joy. Nika (one of the teenage girls killed for protesting), her mother, while amid her grief, defiantly told reporters: “You can not burn women made of fire”. That sentiment of resistance was my inspiration. I wanted to show the world their defiant spirits lived on through the movement. Despite the pain and the darkness, their resistance was heartbreakingly beautiful. So really for me, it was about balancing rage and beauty.

NM: As the director, you decided to remain anonymous. How did this decision impact your creative process, and what challenges did it present?

S: I always find my anonymity the hardest question to answer. I do often find myself lurking in the shadows at panel discussions and festivals, listening to others read my words. I am invisible. But then I know that the conversation is not invisible, which is what matters! My alias, SHIRZAN in Persian means “lion woman.” It is a dedication to the women of Iran and Afghanistan. The film has opened up the conversation to new spaces like the incredible UK Creative Festival who host the Creative Circle Awards. They held a special screening of Rise along with an all-female panel, including British-Iranian actress Elika Ashoori–who had tirelessly campaigned alongside Richard Radcliffe to get her father out of prison. Alongside our lead actress Yasaman Mohsani, who is a refugee and women’s rights activist she also spoke at panels. It was great to use Rise to give lion women a stage to keep the conversation going.

NM: Given the sensitive subject matter, how did you ensure authenticity in casting while protecting your actors?

S: Casting was incredibly tough. Anyone who took part could never return to Iran again, never see family there again, never have that sense of belonging again… it’s a lot to give up. Consequently, we had a lot of people auditioning, accepting the role, 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. And each Iranian involved was riddled with paranoia and fear. I had some cast worried that the whole production was an elaborate trick by the regime to kidnap them. That’s the level of Iranian paranoia that exists. I built deep relationships with the cast, we were in the trenches together, and we workshopped, and choreographed intensely. I needed them to be attainable to me and durable, it was a physically and emotionally debilitating process.

NM: Can you discuss your aesthetic choices in Rise, particularly in terms of colour and visual symbolism?

S: It was a visual poem dedicated to rage. I split it into three distinct parts each with its own look, colour, and emotion. My imagery of butterflies was an analogy for the birth of a movement, from pain. I wanted to show the world that the spirits of the dead girls were like butterflies that lived on through our collective resistance.

NM: How do you see Rise contributing to the global conversation on women’s rights?

S: Maya Angalou’s poem Still I Rise is one of the most famous feminist poems in the world. Using it gave the issue a universality–the patriarchal abuse of power is not just about Iran. Iranian and Afghan women are merely on the frontlines of a much wider battle. Rise evoked a universal feeling of “join us, this is our fight,” by the end, the clenched fist was an invitation to you. Rather than people in the West feeling desensitised and removed, thinking that Iran and Afghanisation are some exoticised far away places, I wanted them to see how normal these girls are. They are just like ALL teenagers, they listen to rap music, they are naughty, they talk nonsense, and they are cheeky and vibrant. That simple depiction of normality… is then, suddenly, shattered. I wanted my viewers to join the dots, to see how we are all one.

NM: What’s next for you?

S: I’m up to a lot. But I can’t tell you here as it would give away my identity.