Holy Spider

Iranian writer/director Ali Abbasi (known for his 2016 Danish horror drama Shelley and his 2018 Swedish psychological horror fantasy film Border) delivers the grizzliest movie I’ve ever seen in the Persian language. The international production, shot in Jordan, is based on the true story of Saeed Hanaei, a serial killer who murdered 16 women from 2000 to 2001 in Mashhad, Iran. Hanaei targeted sex workers as part of what he considered a personal jihad to cleanse the holy city of corrupt and immoral women. His method of extermination was to strangle his victims with their own hijabs.

Inspired by the 2002 documentary And Along Came a Spider, Abbasi creates a fictional female journalist protagonist, named Arezoo Rahimi, who travels from Tehran to investigate the killings in this styled neo-noir. The journalist becomes more and more deeply involved as a result of the slow and ineffectual police response to the killings. Exiled Iranian television actress Zar Amir Ebrahimi plays Rahimi with a compelling conviction that pulls us into the story and provides us with a fascinating and unusual viewpoint. Ebrahimi was originally employed as the film's casting director but apparently went on to play the lead role herself when the young Iranian actress set to star in the movie withdrew abruptly because she feared harsh reprisal back home. Ebrahimi stepped in at the last minute and her personal identification with the character—she left Iran because of a scandal involving a leaked sex tape—may have assisted her in crafting one of the year's most arresting performances. She took home the Best Actress award at this year's Cannes Film Festival, which infuriated Iran’s Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance. The Iranian government has likened any participation in this movie to Salman Rushdie’s writing of The Satanic Verses.

Equally powerful is Mehdi Bajestani's turn as the Hanaei surrogate Saeed Azimi. Abbasi and Bajestani present this killer as a product of a misogynist society rather than some kind of unhinged monster. Azimi comes off as a seemingly mild-mannered construction worker, war veteran, and family man who embarks on his violent killing spree for reasons that aren't fully made clear at the beginning because we enter this story via one of his victims. After a graphic depiction of what starts out as a typically desperate night for the heroine-addicted streetwalker, we see how this sadistic killer lures, murders, and disposes of his prey. We don't start spending time with Azimi until he's well into his homicidal routine, which includes phoning a local reporter after dumping each body. Though branded "The Spider Killer" by the local newspapers, he grows ever more frustrated by the lack of interest in what he increasingly sees as his God-given mission. But when he's eventually arrested, he becomes even more convinced his acts are divinely inspired, as a disturbing amount of people begin to offer support and even encouragement for what he's done.

Abbasi uses the way the real Saeed Hanaei became a kind of folk hero as an indictment of a complicit culture that demonises and degrades women while making excuses for all manners of unspeakable acts committed by males. There are a number of aspects of this picture that will not sit well with many art-house audiences, including the way in which Abbasi shoots the murder scenes. These not only acknowledge the confusing sexual thrill they instil in the killer but practically egg on the viewer to identify with him as he attempts to avoid getting caught while simultaneously wanting to be rewarded for his work.

The film Holy Spider reminded me the most of was Cruising, William Friedkin’s 1980 cop thriller based loosely on the true story of a serial killer who targeted gay men involved in the New York leather scene of the late 1970s. The parallels aren't enough to call the film an Iranian Cruising, but the graphic sexual violence and the unusual undercover investigation recall it. But unlike Cruising, the main character in Holy Spider is not the one whose confused. For as much as the film is told from Azimi's point of view, he is not the protagonist. The clearheaded journalist Rahimi, whose backstory motivates and enriches her actions, enables us to view the film from both an insider and outsider vantage. Her sense of purpose is every bit as strong as the killers, but she doesn't require twisted logic or self-serving readings of scripture. Her resolve stems from a lifetime of personal experiences that sharply inform her view on a major societal problem.

The film is anything but subtle, but its aggressive frankness acts as a challenge to conservative religious and political leaders who claim a kind of holy purity but who are, in fact, perversely and destructively obsessed with sex. Abbasi's critique may be aimed at Muslim leaders in Iran, but it extends every bit to Christian leaders in the US who decry the potential dangers of those who step outside of long-accepted societal norms while it is they, in fact, who impose a far greater danger to those they claim to protect and defend.

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