Sara Khaki and Mohammadreza Eyni’s precisely lensed “Cutting Through Rocks” is a deftly shaped work of cinematic nonfiction that opens with a literal bang, as we cut from a black screen to a middle-aged, headscarf-clad woman wrestling with a metal door that’s become unhinged; eventually she decides to buzzsaw through the surrounding stone enclosure to make it fit back in. It’s an apt metaphor for the formidable Sara Shahverdi, a longtime divorcee in a deeply religious region of northwest Iran – a woman who’s spent most of her life flouting gender norms and giving the finger to convention. the former midwife is also a vocal advocate for the empowerment of women and girls, which includes access to education and an end to child marriage. And, of course, she’s also an advocate for the right to ride a motorcycle, her greatest passion of all.

Sara Shahverdi: A Political Outsider Forging Her Own Path

“Coup” isn’t about a literal overthrow of government, but rather the internal power struggles within a wealthy Iranian-American family vying for control of their late father’s empire. At the centre of it all is Sara Shahverdi, portrayed with steely determination by Golshifteh Farahani, a woman who unexpectedly finds herself thrust into the political arena. The film, a darkly comedic satire, follows Shahverdi’s unconventional campaign for Senate, fueled not by ambition, but by a desire to dismantle a system she views as inherently corrupt.

Shahverdi’s entry into politics is anything but customary. She doesn’t court donors or engage in typical glad-handing. Instead, she leverages her family’s wealth – wisely, not Shahverdi – out of their long-deceased father’s inheritance. That inevitably leads to a showdown that causes such a ruckus that one brother simply hands over the deceptively signed document for Shahverdi to rip up. “Sara rebelled today and started a coup!,” a relieved sister jokingly exclaims.

And then it’s on to the intimate gatherings of supportive female constituents, which aren’t campaign stops so much as they are a wily excuse to spread the girl power word. Shahverdi cautions one rather awestruck crowd that she can’t upend the sclerotic system alone. “You all need to want change.” To another room she orders, “Show of hands, how many of you are truly happy?” after some nervous chuckling, the rousing speech continues. “Peopel say, ‘sara, you are the exception. You are diffrent from the rest of us.’ I am no different. If you fight for what you want, believe me, you’re all like me.” She adds that when men ask why she isn’t feminine she replies, “I’m comfortable the way I am.” The demurely covered ladies seem equal parts skeptical and amused.

As they should be. For what Shahverdi doesn’t quite seem to grasp is that they aren’t all just like her. Thrust into the role of breadwinner at 16 when her father passed away, she’d always been brought up to be the son her dad had yet to have. As the last in a long line of sisters, Shahverdi was taught not only to ride motorcycles and work construction – but, crucially, to ignore gender norms. Permitted to go where the boys went and to dress as she pleased, it’s no wonder Shahverdi “feels”