Set against the turmoil of Afghanistan, the story centres on the lives of two young women, friends from university, whose paths diverge dramatically.
Suraya is a socialist from a well-to-do family, while the titular Sima comes from a more modest, conservative background. Despite their differences, they are close friends, bound together by their talent and creativity.
Although the film is bookended by scenes depicting the Taliban’s return to power in 2021, most of it consists of flashbacks.
We see a country in which modern ways are in conflict with both a strong leftist movement and reactionary traditionalism. When the Soviet Union invades in December 1979, ostensibly to prop up a socialist regime in crisis, an asymmetrical civil war ensues.
Suraya aligns herself with the secular and comparatively urbane Soviets, while Sima radicalises in the opposite direction, eventually joining her husband in the mujahideen fighting for control over their country.
The two women are narrative foils for one another, embodying diametrically opposed visions of Afghanistan’s future.
Early in the film, we see Suraya gazing out the window with a look of concern as she observes Sima’s engagement procession pass by. The film then cuts to a shot of Sima, appearing blissful and contemplative, as Suraya confronts her about this significant decision.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Suraya asks.
“Because I knew you would try to talk me out of it,” comes Sima’s bemused response.
“You’re right about that,” Suraya replies. “Don’t you love music? How can you be sure that this man will not hinder your studies and your music in the future?”
“He promised me,” explains Sima.
“Wahab is a member of the Islamic Movement,” declares Suraya. “Maybe it will hinder your work.”
Sima looks concerned, as if she recognises her predicament for the first time.
“He will never do that,” she replies.
By expressing the divisions in Afghan society through this kind of personal exchange between friends, Sadat is able to provide a more nuanced perspective on ideological polarisation. It’s possible to disagree vehemently with someone’s decisions without forgetting what brought you close in the first place.
Sima loves the traditional instrument she plays. And she loves Wahab. Why can’t she have both?
As a deeply distressing scene later in the film makes clear, however, there are times when it’s impossible to have it all. To support the man who is now her husband, she exchanges her instrument for a gun.
This personal decision stands in for the political one that is always looming in the background.
To Sadat’s credit, even though she falls squarely on Suraya’s side of the fence, she refuses to demonise Sima or the traditionalist mentality she comes to represent.
Shortly after Sima chooses this path, we see Suraya with a group of friends, dancing happily in a circle to Aretha Franklin’s cover of “Respect.”
Suddenly, the music is shut off. An angry group of men has entered the room, complaining about the students’ “un-Islamic” behaviour.
“Who is paying you to do this? To spread prostitution here?” asks the group’s leader.
Soon, Suraya is being led out of the building by men in uniform. Witnessing this, Sima’s face clouds over.
Given the fate of women under the Taliban, it seems likely that Suraya will eventually suffer serious consequences for her outspokenness and refusal to make concessions to the traditionalists.
That’s what happened to Sadat, after all, who was driven into exile in Iran after 2021, forcing her to move the film’s production from Kabul to Greece. And it’s what happened to many of the people she collaborated with on the project.
Because the flashback takes place during a time when the Soviet Union exerted control over the country’s population centres, however, it’s Sima rather than Suraya who ends up suffering the worst consequences for her decision.
This crucial plot detail helps audiences to remember that authoritarianism goes both ways.
Although the mujahideen are now seen in the West as precursors to the Taliban, they were once celebrated as freedom fighters when their resistance to modernity targeted communists rather than capitalists.
On the surface, Sima’s Song might appear to be another instalment in a meta-narrative about the superiority of liberal Western values. It’s no surprise that this Afghan film is technically a Western production, given that the funding came from Europe.
But the world has changed a great deal since the days when Malala Yousafzai was being fêted in London and Washington D.C., and Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner was a staple of suburban reading groups.
A decade ago, it was still possible for the European bourgeoisie to regard the stripping away of individual liberties from a distance, as an unfortunate byproduct of developing nations trying to modernise too quickly.
Even in the United States, where fundamentalism was much stronger, the idea that American women might one day face the same threats as their counterparts in places like Afghanistan seemed far-fetched, more the realm of speculative fiction like Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale rather than a political reality.
But that is clearly no longer the case.
The United States is rapidly turning from a deeply flawed nation with robust democratic institutions into a post-democracy ruled by the decree of an autocrat and his army of sycophants.
Although women in Western Europe have less to worry about in the short term, the rise of far-right parties throughout the continent makes it likely that assaults on personal freedom will start to make an impact there as well.
Sima’s Song avoids the high-contrast storytelling favoured by Western media when reporting on places like Afghanistan. As its title indicates, we are invited to identify with Sima as much as Suraya, even though she chose the traditionalist path.
As a result, Roya Sadat has created an important film that urges audiences to remain alert about safeguarding the rights of vulnerable groups, particularly women, both in “backward” places abroad and nearby, where the progress towards genuine equality appears increasingly fragile.
Sima’s Song will open the Brussels International Women’s Film Festival 2025. Screenshot courtesy of Roya Sadat. All rights reserved.
