By Yun-hua Chen.
People often say there are more important problems in Iranian society and no time to discuss [the Afghan refugee crisis]. That’s not a good excuse.”
–Alireza Ghasemi
Filmmakers Raha Amirfazli and Alireza Ghasemi discuss their new feature
Stemming from profound concerns and affection for Afghan refugees who fled to neighboring “land of brothers” Iran due to the invasion, In the Land of Brothers highlights the daily discrimination these refugees face based on their appearance, socioeconomic, and political status. Lacking equality in legal terms and governmental protection, even second and third-generation refugees face tremendous difficulties in attaining Iranian citizenship and equal rights in society. They remain the “others” in a land so close to home, yet one that outright rejects them.
Premiering at Sundance and having its European debut at Karlovy Vary Film Festival, In the Land of Brothers is a deeply affectionate, cleverly scripted, and meticulously orchestrated debut from Alireza Ghasemi and Raha Amirfazli. Using a triptych structure, the film presents snippets of life as Afghan refugees in 2003, 2013, and 2023, across three different seasons and transitioning from rural to urban spaces. It follows a group of Afghan community members, with teenagers in the first snippet growing into adults and entering older age in the subsequent sequences. The film centers on Mohammad, a diligent student and promising carpenter who faces police harrassment on a daily basis; Leila, his childhood sweetheart who takes care of a holiday house for wealthy Iranians living abroad and has to tell a big lie to protect her family; and her brother Quasem, whose son is not where they think he is. This shared sense of otherness permeates not only metaphorically and psychologically but also physically, affecting where one situates their body in relation to the land they find themselves in. It’s no coincidence that terms such as “land” and “brothers” appear repeatedly in titles of films about displaced communities. These are such important concepts that are cherished by some and exploited by others; in the first snippet, the body territories of refugees are violated, whereas in the second and third segments, the bodies of deceased refugees cannot receive proper burials in the land that they grow up in.
Covering a wide spectrum of plights faced by Afghan refugees of different genders, age ranges, and life stages, In the Land of Brothers represents the underrepresented and gives voices to those who have been silenced. The seamless vision of Raha Amirfazli and Alireza Ghasemi is beautifully woven together by the legendary editor Hayedeh Safiyari, with a continuous flow of human emotions and encounters, accompanied by Frederic Alvarez’s acutely sensitive scores. Farshad Mohammadi’s crisp cinematography accurately portrays the orange-toned joy of burgeoning love in hiding with untold secrets, the visual division between Iranians and Afghans despite the goodwill, kind-heartedness, and sympathy of those Iranians, and the cold, grey-toned corridors of bureaucracy. This film speaks for Afghan refugees and poignantly resonates with anyone who experiences otherness in their own land or elsewhere.
Raha Amirfazli and Alireza Ghasemi talked with Film International in Karlovy Vary about the community of Afghan refugees, the making of this film and their self-imposed exile because of the film.
After the completion of the film, you could not go back to Iran?
AG: Yes. So, we finished shooting and moved to Paris for post-production. Afterward, Raha went to New York. She is still there, actually, and I stayed in Paris.
Was it because of the film that both of you decided to leave the country?
AG: Yes.
RA: Well, technically we can go back to Iran, but consequences await us if we do.
AG: And the consequences are so vague and huge that you cannot predict them. You’re inside a fog and cannot foresee anything.
How did your collaboration come into place? It’s interesting that your names are listed in reverse orders for directing and writing.
RA: Democracy (laughs).
Did one of you do a bit more directing, and the other person did more writing?
AG: We had many collaborations on different films. We acted in each other’s films, including short films. Then we made a short film together as writers, directors, and producers, and this is the first feature we both worked on as producers, writers, and directors. During the first week, we asked each other who wanted to be listed first. How should we manage the credits for our writing and directing? And then it was decided, as you saw on IMDb.
RA: Both of us do both directing and writing equally. It’s not that one does more writing and the other more directing. We do both together.
AG: It’s simultaneous, like ping-pong. One of us initiates, and the other responds. This collaboration evolves continuously. We share experiences and feedback, then suddenly someone says, “Okay, let’s work on this.” Thanks to COVID, we used Google Docs to share scripts and work remotely, making comments and adjustments.
How did you research this community before working on the script?
RA: Before casting, we did a lot of research. We listened to podcasts, read books, watched news – anything we could find.
AG: Some documentaries.
RA: Documentaries, yes. We wrote the first version of the script while still researching, then started casting. Through that, we met many people from the Hazara community because we wanted to cast non-actors. We connected with ordinary people, hearing their stories and those of their families. This helped us understand that our story resonated with many and gave us ideas to develop the script.
Did you show the film to the community afterward?
AG: Not yet, but we shared it with many Afghan friends to get feedback. We hope to showcase this film to Afghan refugees in Iran, Afghan diasporas worldwide, and all immigrants and expats. There’s a key element of otherness in the film, which isn’t just about refugees but everyone, especially in these times of rising nationalism and extremism. Many people experience feelings of otherness.
RA: We hope to show it in Iran to Afghan refugees, but we must wait until the festival circuit is complete. We can’t screen it legally in Iran, so we’ll use streaming platforms or downloads to reach people.
AG: Thanks to technology, we can put the film on online platforms for people in Iran.
You prefer the film to be watched on an illegal and non-profitable channel afterward?
RA: Yes, absolutely. It will only be effective if the people of Iran see it. Hopefully, it will bring about change if people see the film and hear these stories.
We had a strong connection with Afghan communities in Iran and saw their underrepresentation. Censorship prevented them from making films. As film students, we had the tools to do it.”
–Alireza Ghasemi
It is striking to see how the system discriminates through ethnic profiling of Afghan refugees in Iran.
AG: There are about seven million Afghan refugees in Iran, half of whom are Hazara people with Asian facial features, different from Iranians. They experience the most discrimination. It’s important for Iranians to see this. Some are unaware or in denial about it.
RA: No one spoke about it.
AG: People often say there are more important problems in Iranian society and no time to discuss this. That’s not a good excuse.
You chose three temporal points: 2003, 2013, and 2023. How do these moments correspond to world geopolitics?
RA: From the start, we wanted to show that the situation has persisted from long before the film’s timeline to the present and will continue if we don’t wake up and think. We structured it in three chapters to illustrate that despite different governments in Afghanistan, the situation for Afghan people in Iran remains unchanged or worsens. Second- and third-generation immigrants are not recognized as Iranian or Afghan. The film highlights this ongoing identity crisis.
AG: Exactly. People who moved back to Afghanistan are called Iranian there, while they were called Afghan in Iran. This happens repeatedly. The Sundance website mentions a huge wave of Afghan immigrants in Iran after the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan whereas on the Karlovy Vary website the phrasing becomes “after the Soviet Union invasion”.
Did you feel a connection between your self-imposed exile and your characters’ forced exile, especially regarding identity crisis?
AG: Yes. When we started working on the film, we realized that our own experience as immigrants would soon mirror our characters’. This made us think a lot about otherness. Society often finds ways to push you away based on differences like language, appearance, or religion.
RA: I wish we could rewrite the script now, with our current understanding of otherness.
AG: I think it’s a documentary we should make.
RA: About ourselves?
AG: Yes.
RA: Let’s do it.
AG: It could be a DVD bonus.
Do you feel that cinema is worthwhile for self-imposed exile?
AG: It wasn’t just about cinema. We had a strong connection with Afghan communities in Iran and saw their underrepresentation. Censorship prevented them from making films. As film students, we had the tools to do it. It could have been a book, but we made a film. It’s worth it because it can create a wave of awareness and controversy in Iran.
RA: From an artistic perspective, we believe in telling the reality of the story, even if it means facing repercussions like jail. This story needs to be told truthfully, unlike the sanitized versions in cinema, TV, and literature. As filmmakers, we need our stories to be as close to reality as possible, unless it’s sci-fi (laughs).
When I watched the film, I noticed the importance of editing, and then I saw that your editor is Hayedeh Safiyari. How did you get her onboard?
AG: Hayedeh is amazing. She was on the set of Asghar Farhadi’s last film, A Hero. We sent her the script, and she read it in two days. She came to our office with cookies and congratulated us. She loved the story and wanted to be part of it. We were thrilled because she is one of the most important and creative editors. She managed the emotional lines of the film and transitions between chapters perfectly. She challenged us with new ideas daily.
RA: I learned so much about filmmaking and editing from working with her. She’s brilliant.
Did you start the film with the idea of music first?
RA: Ali had interacted with our musician, Frederic Alvarez, long before making the film. When we thought about music, we remembered Frederic. He created sample music based on the script and movebook. We used his sample music on set to help actors get into character.
AG: We had many sessions with him, explaining the key emotions of each scene—anger, doubt, sadness, anxiety. These discussions helped clarify our vision and brought harmony to the film.
What do you think about the creative solutions the characters find, like white lies?
AG: As Iranians, we lead double lives, often lying to survive. This pressure is even greater for refugees. We amplified our own experiences in the story. Afghan refugees face basic challenges that require smart survival tactics.
RA: In Iranian cinema, Afghan refugees are often poorly represented, either in degrading slapstick comedies or as passive figures in dramas. We wanted to create strong, active characters who know how to survive and protect their families. This vision was crucial to our storytelling.
The moment with the two kids practicing English tenses was strong. Education is a scarce resource for refugee kids.
AG: Ten years ago, a law allowed even illegal refugees to attend school. Before that, basic education was unattainable. They formed self-organized communities to teach each other. Education is crucial for them.
Was it difficult to shoot the part with the character with hearing difficulties?
AG: We hired a sign language teacher and had Skype sessions due to COVID. Our actress learned sign language with the teacher. We mediated these sessions and recorded them.
RA: Anytime we rewrote dialogue, it needed reinterpretation.Two months before shooting, we switched to in-person sessions, but most were via Skype.
How did you work with your non-professional cast?
RA: We were very lucky to find talented non-professional actors whose life experiences translated well to their characters. We prefer not to rehearse extensively from the start. Instead, we talk with the actors about the script, themselves, and us to build trust and familiarity. This helps non-professional actors feel confident and connected to their roles. Professional actors do this on their own, but non-professional actors need this shared understanding to perform authentically.
In the film, there’s a progression through seasons and spaces. Is it through space that you portray time?
AG: Yes. We wanted to show different vegetations to reflect the changing times. After the Iranian Revolution, there was the Iran-Iraq war and then rapid country renovation. Comparing pictures of Iran from 20 years ago shows drastic changes. We used different seasons to depict these decades of difference.
Yun-hua Chen is an independent film scholar and critic and associate editor of Film International Online.