Saeed Hanaei killed 16 women before he was arrested and executed. But Holy Spider, a film about the Hanaei and the journalist who pursued him, does not follow the path of a typical serial killer film. The key difference is the setting: because the killer lived in Iran and targeted sex workers, the Muslim country had complicated feelings about his crimes. Some even saw him as a folk hero, and director Ali Abbasi depicts this with a dispassionate sense of disgust. Hanaei was a violent monster, and yet the film serves primarily as a commentary of a community that allowed to thrive, even flourish.
Sex workers in Iran could easily found, even in the holy city of Mashhad where the film takes place. Mehdi Bajestani plays Saeed as a zealot, one who perhaps hides his complicated sexual feelings through violence and a sense of religious fervor (he repeatedly invokes clerics to justify his crimes). He stalks a sex worker in the film’s first scene, and Abbasi avoids anything sensational, opting to suggest the cruel banality of his methods (he strangles them with their head scarves). Still, the deaths alarm the community, attracting the attention of Rahimi (Zar Amir Ebrahimi), a journalist who annoys the police because she has a way of cutting through the holes and red tape in their investigation. Frustrated and seemingly without a lead in sight, she decides to put on some makeup and wander Mashhad at night, hoping to find him.
Abbasi films in Jordan, not Iran, which means he get away with showing things he could not elsewhere (we see Rahimi at home without a hijab, for example). When Rahimi interviews religious leaders, the subtext is a damning critique of a country where misogyny is official policy. A marked lack of urgency, coupled with Hanaei’s brazen nature, show that justice cannot be found through the original channels. As if to underscore that point, we learn from Rahimi’s editor that Hanaei likes to brag and confess his crimes on the phone after he commits them. It’s not that he wants to be caught, he just does not think he will. Holy Spider suggests the country’s pervasive nature means that people like Rahimi are angry, albeit a bit resigned, while women without agency leave in fear. The government tolerates the sex workers and where they operate, although local leaders are not exactly in a rush to protect them, either.
The structure of Holy Spider builds toward a climax that happens earlier than you expect. Rahimi confronts Hanaei, barely escaping with her life, and she has enough material to have him arrested. The film ends with a trial and Hanaei’s monstrous defense: he openly admits to killing the women, then says he was merely serving God’s will. Despite knowing the film’s conclusion, Abbasi develops significant tension simply by showing the men – and even some women, including Hanaei’s wife – who celebrate him as a deranged folk hero. Abbasi handles this material with a matter-of-fact bluntness, a quality that can also be found in his prior film Border, as anything more salacious would betray the anger and indignation that permeates his film. When the killer meets his fate, it’s not seen as justice, but simply an example where the costs of keeping him alive outweigh the negatives.
In the film’s final scene, we see how Hanaei poisoned his family, with his son talking as if he plans to follow his father’s footsteps. That killing can be discussed so openly, even by a child, is not just a testament to how one amoral psychopath spread his influence, but also a reminder that it takes a village to tacitly endorse the dehumanization of its most vulnerable citizens.
Photo courtesy of Utopia
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