Between 2000 and 2001, a seemingly ordinary family man murdered 16 women who worked as prostitutes in Mashhad, a city held sacred by many. The media nicknamed him the “spider killer,” a name that stemmed from his chilling method: luring victims to his home and smothering them with a handkerchief placed over their heads. The case shook Iran deeply. At the time, Ali Abbasi, a filmmaker who would later study in Europe, was living there and began to see the complex aftermath unfold. What stood out to him was the reaction once the killer was apprehended. A broad section of the public believed the perpetrator acted in the name of religious cleansing rather than as a murderer. In their view, he carried out a mission that transcended ordinary crime, a man who would be sanctified as a martyr rather than punished as a criminal. The man’s own statements hinted at an obsession with religious fatwas and a desire for his acts to be seen as justified, a belief that authorities might publicly endorse his mission. The killer, who had fought in the Iran-Iraq war, longed to raise his status beyond that of a construction worker and to have his faith and sacrifice acknowledged. After a turbulent trial, he was sentenced to death, a verdict that underscored how religious extremism and misogyny are intertwined within some layers of Iranian society and institutions.
Abbasi left Iran for Stockholm in 2002 and later settled in Denmark, where he continued his studies and ultimately retained dual citizenship. After directing the horror-thriller Shelley and the boundary-pushing fantasy film The Sacred Spider, he turned his attention to a story rooted in Iranian society—one that began to take shape as Holy Spider, now released to audiences. The project confronted the reality that filming in Iran would be difficult, given the political sensitivity surrounding the script. Actors and crew faced the risk of ideological pushback, and Abbasi explored multiple locations to tell the tale. Initial attempts in Turkey were thwarted when Iranian authorities learned of the production, forcing the team to seek alternatives. Ultimately, the film captured the atmosphere of Mashhad by shooting in Jordan, where the city’s physical layout and cultural texture became another character in the narrative. The title Holy Spider embodies both the killer’s nickname and the way a spider’s web symbolizes the web of influence that extends across a community.
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As with many thrillers, an investigative thread runs alongside the figure of the killer, but Abbasi chose to frame the story differently. He deliberately cast the central adversary as a female journalist, emphasizing the precarious position of women in a society where public scrutiny and political power can collide with suppression. In the film, Rahimi’s journalist is dismissed from her newspaper after challenging a boss’s harassment, a setback that echoes real-world pressures faced by women in Iran. The actress who portrays the journalist, Zar Amir-Ebrahimi, also confronted personal peril when a sexually explicit clip circulated online, forcing her to seek refuge in France. This parallel between fiction and reality adds a potent layer to the film, highlighting how misogyny and control operate both on screen and in everyday life. The performance earned significant recognition, including the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival in recognition of its impact.
Nevertheless, neither Amir-Ebrahimi nor Abbasi anticipated the film’s resonance would outlive the initial release. Its premiere coincided with the murder of Mahsa Amini, a stark reminder of ongoing oppression and state violence. Amini’s death, attributed to the morality police for not wearing a headscarf, sparked protests across Iran and around the world. In the wake of these events, officials signaled intentions to reform oppressive practices, including rules regarding dress codes, though political censorship remained a real concern. The film’s release brought renewed attention to the struggles of Iranian women, and the industry spotlight also shone on other artists who have spoken out against repression. Taraneh Alidoosti, a prominent actress, faced sanctions in Tehran after posting about the regime’s crackdown, underscoring the climate of risk surrounding dissent.
Within this turbulent context, Holy Spider emerges not only as a taut psychological thriller but also as a pointed critique of gendered violence and the cultural forces that enable it. The story invites audiences to consider how fear, power, and tradition intersect to shape a society that can tolerate or even rationalize grave harm against women. In its stark portrayal, the film becomes a record of a moment when art sought to expose the shadows behind social norms, offering a candid reflection on courage, accountability, and the costs of speaking truth to power.