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In Mashhad, Iran’s spiritual capital, a journalist hunts down a serial killer who believes it’s his religious duty to “cleanse” the city of corrupt women. Based on true events, director Ali Abbasi’s latest film (Holy Spider) is a bold, sinister critique of twisted beliefs and conflicting ideas of justice, made all the more disquieting in the wake of current events.
Zar Amir-Ebrahimi stars as Rahimi, a journalist from Tehran who travels to Mashhad to investigate a string of local killings targeting sex workers. She experiences gender inequality and misogyny at every turn and believes the lack of police motivation on the case is a little too convenient given the murderer’s targets. She takes it upon herself to uncover the identity of the so-called “Spider Killer,” along with the help of Sharifi (Arash Ashtiani), a local crime reporter who receives phone calls from the killer after every murder.
Meanwhile, we follow quiet, unassuming Saeed (Mehdi Bajestani) as he spends his days with his wife and two children and his nights picking up sex workers on his motorcycle and strangling them to death in his own home. The contrast is (expectedly) unsettling, as is his demeanour. He is guided by his belief that he is fulfilling a religious mission to rid the world of sinful women, but he also takes pleasure in the media frenzy his actions cause. As the film progresses, he becomes increasingly self-satisfied and boldly conceited as he—horrifyingly—gains support for his brutal deeds.
The film moves along at a gripping pace as it alternates between Saeed and Rahimi’s perspectives, although at times it relies on predictable narrative tropes: Rahimi offers herself up as bait to catch the killer and inevitably her partner loses their trail, leading to a one-on-one showdown between Rahimi and Saeed. However, Holy Spider creates new tension and uncertainty after Saeed’s arrest around whether or not he’ll escape justice in light of growing support and a police force content to look the other way. That tension and outrage holds through to the end of the film.
The story offers small insights into the women who are murdered, namely through their grieving families; otherwise, the victims are mostly used to show their grisly deaths. Abbasi seeks to disturb viewers while critiquing an equally sinister social belief system of misogyny and extreme religious devotion, but he is most effective when he relies not on graphic death scenes but rather on the subtle transference of those belief systems.
Some of the most disturbing and provoking aspects of the film occur once Saeed is caught. It’s the supporters rallying to Saeed’s side in defence of his actions, the corruption that may allow him to walk free, and most of all it’s seeing his beliefs echoed by his wife, and his convictions passed down to his young son. It’s the terrifyingly real possibility of another continuing his ‘work.’ It’s the danger that remains to women. These are the most effective ways Abbasi creates horror and outrage. Rahimi sees all of it too well, and it makes her more determined than ever to keep fighting and ensure Saeed is brought to justice.
The harrowing nature of the film and Abbasi’s critique of a patriarchal system that controls women has a particularly ominous undertone given current events in Iran, where the authorities are brutally cracking down on protests sparked by the death of Mahsa Amini, a young Kurdish Iranian woman, while she was in morality police custody. Through the film’s murdered sex workers and through Rahimi’s everyday experiences, we bear witness to just some of the dangers and inequality women face. And although the film offers some grim satisfaction in its conclusion, the film leaves us on a chilling final note.
Co-written by Abbasi (best known for his award-winning 2018 film, Border) and Afshin Kamran Bahrami, Holy Spider is based on the true events of the murders of 16 sex workers in Mashhad from 2000-2001.