In contemporary Tehran, a young woman named Seti possesses a voice that could fill concert halls, yet she is forbidden from letting it be heard. Her passion is singing, an act that, for a woman performing solo in public, is a crime. Her personal ambition immediately becomes a political statement. This is the central friction of Soheil Beiraghi’s Bidad, a title that translates to “Outcry.”
Seti, who models herself on Western artists like Amy Winehouse, refuses to be a footnote in her own life. Her story is not merely one of artistic suppression but a specific look at the high price of creative freedom within a system of strict control. Her individual defiance becomes emblematic of a generational spirit, a personal cry that echoes with the sound of a larger movement.
The Anatomy of Defiance
Seti’s name, meaning “sickle blade,” is a deliberate choice for a character whose approach to the world is cutting and direct. She is a figure of perpetual motion, a rejection of the stasis her society attempts to enforce. Sarvin Zabetiyan’s performance is defined by this physicality; she imbues Seti with a restless energy that feels entirely authentic.
The way she rides her bicycle through Tehran is not just transit but an assertion of presence. Her rebellion is not the abstract angst often seen in Western cinematic rebels; it is a focused fight for a tangible right. The film keenly observes her transformation from an individual artist to a public symbol, a process accelerated by modern technology.
A smartphone camera, aimed from a nearby window during a street performance, becomes the conduit for her fame. This act turns a local defiance into a global broadcast, a distinctly 21st-century form of protest that connects her struggle to digital activism worldwide. The instantaneous nature of this celebrity, however, also makes her a clear target.
Her subsequent arrest and imprisonment inflict a deep trauma, leaving her with a pronounced stutter. This is a masterful stroke of narrative design: the system, in trying to silence her, physically breaks her ability to speak, creating a harrowing distinction between her shattered speech and the memory of her powerful singing voice.
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Sanctuary in the Subculture
The film broadens its focus beyond Seti to map the hidden ecosystem of non-conformity in Tehran. This world is revealed through her two most important relationships. The first is with Homi, the older woman Seti claims is her mother. This public fiction conceals a private truth: a deeply felt, if volatile, same-sex romance.
For a local audience, the codes of their relationship may be immediately apparent; for international viewers, the slow reveal of their intimacy is a potent discovery of a life lived behind multiple curtains of secrecy. Their bond explores a universal idea of chosen family, forged under conditions of extreme pressure.
Seti’s second key alliance is with Bebin, a tattooed, marijuana-growing street tough who becomes her unlikely guardian. His character defies simple categorization. Where Western cinematic language might code his appearance as threatening, Bebin is a source of unexpected gentleness and nurturing stability. He represents a different kind of masculinity, one that is protective without being possessive.
His connection to his dog and his prized plant shows a life dedicated to tending to living things outside the regime’s sterile order. Together, Homi and Bebin represent the two poles of Seti’s support: one domestic and hidden, the other bohemian and street-level. Their presence shows that Seti, while singular in her talent, is part of a larger, interconnected network of outcasts.
Filmmaking as Dissidence
The aesthetic of Bidad is inextricably linked to its themes of rebellion. Director Soheil Beiraghi’s style is raw and immediate, a direct reflection of the precarious lives he depicts. The film’s visual language is one of instability; the handheld camera seems to breathe with Seti, its movements mirroring her constant anxiety and motion.
This approach is not just a stylistic choice but a result of necessity. As an unsanctioned production filmed without official permits, Bidad is itself an artifact of the dissidence it portrays. The very act of its creation is a risk, making the film a piece of journalism as much as a work of art. This guerrilla method turns limitations into strengths.
The reliance on available light gives the underground scenes a conspiratorial intimacy, a stark contrast to the indifferent glare of the city. Any perceived roughness in the final product—an abrupt edit, a line of dialogue that feels more declarative than natural—serves a purpose. It is a rejection of the polished, state-approved narratives.
The film refuses to smooth its own edges, just as its protagonist refuses to soften hers. Its lack of a tidy resolution is not a narrative weakness but a clear-eyed statement that for Seti and many like her, the struggle is not over.
“Bidad” (Outcry), directed and written by Soheil Beiraghi, is an Iranian drama that premiered at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival (KVIFF) on July 9, 2025.
Full Credits
Director: Soheil Beiraghi
Writers: Soheil Beiraghi
Cast: Sarvin Zabetian, Amir Jadidi, Leili Rashidi
The Review
Bidad
Bidad is a fierce and necessary film, powered by a commanding central performance and a production style born of true urgency. While its narrative can feel abrupt, this roughness is also its greatest strength, offering an unfiltered look into the defiant spirit of Iranian youth. It transforms a personal story of artistic ambition into a potent political statement. Its courage, both in subject and execution, makes it a vital piece of contemporary world cinema.
PROS
- A commanding and energetic lead performance by Sarvin Zabetiyan.
- Raw, kinetic filmmaking that authentically captures the story's urgency.
- A courageous and important exploration of Iranian counterculture and its taboos.
- Complex supporting characters who defy simple categorization.
CONS
- The plot's pacing can feel abrupt and uneven.
- Some of the dialogue comes across as very direct and literal.
