Berlinale 2019: "Born in Evin"Confronting a very personal trauma
One day it just slipped out: her aunt revealed that Maryam Zaree did not see the light of day in a normal hospital, but was born in captivity in 1983. The aunt says she was horrified when she realised that Maryam didn't know.
She thought her parents would have long since told the twelve-year-old that she was born in Evin, one of Iran's most notorious prisons for political prisoners. But this was not the case. And even following the revelation, no clarifying conversations or joint reappraisals of the family history take place.
The story begins when Zaree's parents meet in Iran. They listen to John Lennon, read Karl Marx and are against the Shah and the monarchy in which they grew up.
But with the Islamic Revolution of 1979, one dictator is replaced by another, and they are declared enemies of the new Mullah regime. In 1983 the two are arrested – and Maryam Zaree with them, a foetus in her mother's womb.
Baby behind bars
This is where the big black hole opens up that the young woman meticulously tries to fill in her documentary debut "Born in Evin". It was a topic that was never discussed within the family: not when mother and daughter were allowed to leave prison and flee to Germany, nor even when the father was released after seven years of waiting for the death penalty, having survived the massacre of political prisoners which saw thousands of people executed in 1988.
The silence persisted as Zaree's mother – now a psychologist and local politician with a doctorate – ran for mayor in Frankfurt and Zaree herself became a successful actress in Germany and Europe. And it continued when Zaree presented her mother with a trailer for a film during her summer vacation: an attempt at a cinematic reappraisal.
Tortured by suras
On a bus ride through Morocco, Zaree was made painfully aware of the horror of the infamous torture prison that she carries deep inside her: suddenly, the music in the bus just seemed to be going on and on. She started sweating in panic, thinking she was losing her mind. Finally she screamed at the driver to turn the music off.
Only later did she tell her father about the panic attack, which she was unable to explain to herself. He told her that prisoners in Evin were tortured acoustically using an endless loop of Koran suras, which were likely also being played in the bus. The experience she had had as a toddler had burned itself into her sub-conscious.
In her film, Zaree seeks out other children of political prisoners to find out how they deal with the trauma they have experienced – their own trauma and those of their parents. She meets, among others, the author Sahar Delíjaní, who was also born as a child of political activists in the Evin prison in Tehran and wrote "Children of the Jacaranda Tree" about her experiences.
A new generation
Mayam Zaree also meets the Iranian-French anthropologist Chowra Makaremi. She was eight years old when her mother was executed. Her grandfather wrote down what was done to her mother: her spine was broken, she had burns on several parts of her body, her intimate area had been scalded with boiling water, she had been hung by her feet and wires had been tied around her breasts for electric shocks.
In 1992, Chowra Makaremi presented these lines of her grandfather to the so-called Iran Tribunal in The Hague, a symbolic People's Court to investigate the state-ordered acts of violence in Iran in the 1980s.