Counterfeit Cleric: Religion and Crime in Modern-Day Iran

"The Lizard" (Marmoulak), directed by Kamal Tabrizi, 97 minutes, Iran, 2004

By Mariam Hosseini

Jaded and increasingly apathetic toward the Islamic Republic, many Iranians nowadays often find amusement sneakily mocking clerics on the streets of Tehran. Behind closed doors, Iranians have ridiculed mullahs and their triteness. With the release of The Lizard (Marmoulak), the subject is no longer private, breaking the long-established taboo of making fun of the Iranian religious authorities in public.

The Lizard follows the story of Reza Marmoulak (Reza the Lizard), a thief who has been handed a life sentence in prison. After being injured in a jail fight and subsequently hospitalized, Reza decides to escape by disguising himself in a mullah’s stolen wardrobe. Thus, the convict is transformed into the cleric. Yet the criminal, unable to hail a taxicab, soon realizes that the clothing of a cleric is both a blessing and a curse in the Islamic Republic.

The film follows Reza’s quest for a passport and freedom to a remote village where he is immediately mistaken for the new mullah expected to arrive to lead the local mosque. It is amid this environment that the different faces of faith and religion are presented in modern-day Iran. By taking on the role of a cleric, the escapee proves to be immensely popular at the pulpit and brings worshippers awed by his simplicity and straightforwardness back to the mosque in droves. He manages to do this while lusting after a young village divorcee, picking the pocket of a cab driver and leading mosque prayers with little knowledge of their actual words. An unlikely illustration of interpretation of faith and the faithful take place when Reza makes up his religious sermons on the spot. These opening scenes reveal the concealed tension in the film between the two juxtaposed presentations of religion: idealistic and satirical.

Departing from the original manner of sermons, Reza brings forth his own style and mannerisms, referencing “brother Tarantino” (in reference the director Quentin) and frequently cracking seemingly inappropriate jokes coming from a cleric. As the film progresses, we watch Reza become simultaneously a respected man and a man who comes to respect his religion.

“Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim," begins the convict during his first sermon, which is about the “many different paths” that lead to God. “Imagine you want to enter a house, okay? There are several ways, you can use the key and open the door. But if you don’t have a key, the other option is a master key. And if you don’t have a master key, you can use a piece of wire clippers, a screwdriver, or you may climb the wall and use a rope.” Here the assumption is that Reza’s sermon is simply metaphorical, yet in reality it is based on his story as a thief. The apprehension in The Lizard revolves around the concept that Reza’s true identity could be discovered at any time, whether by worshippers or by the police.

Two eager young worshippers are enthusiastic to earn the confidence of the new mullah, but his presence ultimately causes conflict between them. One of them tries to reconcile rigid obedience to his father’s religious zealotry and his preparation for training as a cleric while pursuing his romantic interest, while the other young man constantly asks Reza overly detailed religious questions that he struggles to answer. This relationship between dry theology and the complications of real life mirrors the reality of life not only in Iran, but societies similar to it, where youth constantly push boundaries enforced upon them and many struggle to reconcile the spiritual with the dogmatic.

Another scene has the same student presenting an endless number of senseless questions about the behavior that Muslims should practice when at the North Pole, for example, or in outer space. His questions are met with Reza’s compassionate, down-to-earth answers, which offer a respectful alternative to more extreme interpretations of Islamic law.

As Reza tries to endure the weight and responsibility that has been placed upon him and the ongoing risk of being caught, he finds that the prison warden from where he escaped is steadily pursuing his path. The film’s portrayal of the prison guard as the antagonist leaves open to interpretation that the “bad guys” are not necessarily the mullahs, but simply cold-hearted authorities, regardless of what their clothing may be.

The villagers warm up to their new mullah quickly, and prepare for a religious holiday with delight and enthusiasm. The village glows with happiness and religious dedication, and the film paints a picture of an idealistic vision of faith and community, all the while taking place under the irony of being led by a criminal mullah. Here, The Lizard brings to light hopeful images of a progressive, freethinking clergy leading devoted and content worshippers despite the bitter realities of life. The idea is that some mullahs can indeed be thieves, but with reform and enlightenment, they could change their mosques from places of authority into a sanctuary of compassion.

At surface level, The Lizard seems to be simply ridiculing the right-wing mullahs in charge of Iran, but upon closer look, the film also carries an underlying message that anyone can access God, even a thief. This concept, which was first mentioned by the warm cleric whose robes and turban Reza used to flee prison with, become the theme of Reza’s off-the-cuff sermons. At the same time, the film serves the purpose to convey to the clerical establishment that in order to survive and genuinely relate to the public, they should be able to openly accept criticism.

While some may say that the film insults Islam, government and society, one can also argue that Reza’s successful yet eccentric sermons drew the village back to the mosque and towards virtuous acts of charity and community involvement. By proposing that religion is more true to its ideal and more effective socially when practiced in a humanitarian and benevolent manner, it unreservedly criticizes the overly controlling, intolerant establishment in place today. As a result, it has managed to become the most shocking and talked-about film in years, creating a social satire through contrasting a convict and his past against a religious environment.

The release of The Lizard has made it the most popular film to date in Iran. Despite its subsequent ban by Iranian authorities and the now popular slang to call clerics “lizards,” the film ultimately shows that religion and redemption are possible. Along the way some of the contradictions that exist in modern Muslim societies come to light, such as the giant void between the youth and the older, more conservative religious class.

The subtle distinction between the religious and the authoritarian should not be missed, as the film is not simply a critique of Iranian mullahs. The quality of The Lizard is that it is up to the viewer to decide if the film is trying to appease the clerics by claiming that some people are corrupt, or if the film is trying to appease the people by claiming that the problem is not religion but the people who represent it. This uncertainty and haziness in its point is the beauty of the film. One thing is for sure though: there are indeed many paths to God, as Reza declares to his audience. This is one message that rings true not only for the audience, not only for the disillusioned Iranian people, but to the whole of the Muslim world.

Mariam Hosseini is a graduate student at San Francisco State University, pursuing a Masters in International Relations. She is currently writing a thesis on the prospect of Islam and democracy in Iran.