Under the Shadow
Under the Shadow is a 2016 psychological horror film written and directed by Babak Anvari in his feature debut.[1] Set in Tehran during the Iran-Iraq War in the 1980s, the story centers on Shideh, a mother whose medical studies were interrupted by political reasons, and her young daughter Dorsa, who become convinced that a djinn—a malevolent spirit from Persian folklore—is haunting their apartment after a missile strike damages their building.[1] Starring Narges Rashidi as Shideh, Avin Manshadi as Dorsa, and supporting actors including Bobby Naderi and Arash Marandi, the film blends supernatural terror with the real-life horrors of wartime bombardment and societal restrictions under the Islamic Republic.[1] Produced on a modest budget, it premiered at the London Film Festival and received widespread critical acclaim for its atmospheric tension, cultural authenticity, and innovative use of the djinn mythos as a metaphor for psychological trauma amid conflict.[2][3] The film holds a 99% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes based on 92 reviews, with praise for Anvari's direction in evoking dread through sound design, confined spaces, and the interplay of personal fears with historical events, though some critics noted its deliberate pacing might test viewer patience.[2] It marked a rare entry in Persian-language cinema into the horror genre, drawing from Iranian superstitions while avoiding overt political messaging, and achieved commercial success relative to its scale, including distribution deals and availability on platforms like Netflix.[4] Anvari, who drew from his own childhood experiences in post-revolutionary Iran, co-wrote the screenplay with Kit Reshidi, emphasizing empirical realism in depicting the War of the Cities' chaos without sensationalism.[3] No major controversies surrounded its release, though its unflinching portrayal of life under wartime censorship and gender roles invited discussions on artistic freedom in Iranian diaspora filmmaking.[2]Production
Development and Writing
Babak Anvari, an Iranian-born filmmaker based in the United Kingdom, drew inspiration for Under the Shadow from his personal experiences growing up in Tehran during the Iran-Iraq War, which began in 1980 and lasted until 1988.[5] Born in the midst of the conflict, Anvari was approximately the same age as the child character in the film by the war's end, shaping his conceptualization of wartime trauma and societal pressures under authoritarian rule.[6] His relocation to the UK positioned him as an expatriate voice, allowing exploration of these themes through a horror lens unbound by domestic censorship constraints in Iran.[7] Anvari's script development built on his earlier short film Two & Two (2011), a BAFTA-nominated allegory critiquing authoritarian indoctrination through a classroom scenario where basic arithmetic is distorted to serve propaganda.[8] Released amid his feature aspirations, Two & Two established creative partnerships that facilitated Under the Shadow's progression, with Anvari refining the screenplay over several years starting around the early 2010s.[9] He collaborated closely with producer Emily Leo from inception, discussing core ideas before committing to the full script, which integrated supernatural folklore with historical realism to metaphorically address war's psychological toll.[7] The project secured financing as a low-budget independent production, primarily through UK-based Wigwam Films, supplemented by grants from the Doha Film Institute and co-production elements involving Jordan and Qatar.[8] This structure echoed influences from minimalist horror films like The Babadook (2014), prioritizing atmospheric tension and emotional depth over high production values, with principal photography commencing after iterative script polishing in the mid-2010s.[10] Anvari's decisions emphasized cultural authenticity, drawing on Persian jinn mythology while avoiding overt political didacticism, to evoke universal fears rooted in isolation and suppression.[11]Filming and Production Challenges
Principal photography commenced on April 20, 2015, in Jordan, selected to double for 1980s Tehran amid restrictions on filmmaking in Iran that prohibited depictions of private scenes without traditional coverings, such as women removing headscarves indoors.[12][13] Jordan's landscape of vacant, weathered structures facilitated authentic recreations of war-ravaged urban decay from the Iran-Iraq War era, with production designer Nasser Zoubi ensuring period-accurate details like propaganda posters and rationed interiors.[8][13] The 21-day shoot presented logistical strains on the international co-production involving the United Kingdom, Qatar, and Jordan, including transporting a multinational cast and crew to remote sites and coordinating with local teams experienced on large-scale films like The Martian.[14][13] Sensitive portrayals of wartime bombardment and cultural folklore necessitated careful navigation of regional norms, such as mandatory hair coverings for female actors on camera in Jordan, while avoiding overt political commentary to maintain access.[13] War sequences, including missile impacts on residential buildings, relied on practical effects to convey visceral destruction and confinement, with much of the action confined to a single apartment set to intensify psychological tension without expansive location work.[15][10] Director Babak Anvari emphasized grounded realism transitioning to subtle supernatural elements, incorporating non-professional local performers for ambient scenes and limiting digital enhancements—such as targeted VFX for ethereal cloth simulations and structural fissures—to 88 shots across the film, prioritizing tangible props over pervasive CGI.[15][16]Technical and Stylistic Choices
The film's cinematography, handled by Kit Fraser, employs a naturalistic style that evolves to underscore the protagonists' psychological entrapment, with static shots and disorienting angles in the apartment interiors and basement sequences emphasizing confinement amid the war-torn setting.[17] Recurring motifs such as deep cracks in the ceiling visually represent mounting tension, blending social realism with subtle horror distortions.[6] A desaturated color palette dominates, rendering the environments in muted, gritty tones that evoke the bleakness of 1980s Tehran under bombardment.[18] Sound design, supervised by Alex Joseph, integrates authentic elements of the Iran-Iraq War, including air-raid sirens and archival bomb audio, alongside Farsi dialogue and radio broadcasts to immerse viewers in the era's pervasive dread.[6][17] Subtle manifestations of the djinn—such as whispers, eerie knocking, rattling objects, and a low rumbling—build auditory unease, often piercing moments of relative silence to heighten paranoia without overt jumpscares.[17][19] Editing maintains a deliberate rhythm, transitioning seamlessly from scenes of mundane domesticity to escalating supernatural intrusion, mirroring the characters' descent into doubt about reality.[17] This pacing draws on Persian folklore for visual cues, such as the chador functioning as a shroud-like symbol of oppression and otherworldliness, intertwining cultural specificity with horror conventions to amplify atmospheric tension.[20]Cast and Characters
Principal Cast
Narges Rashidi portrays Shideh, a former medical student navigating isolation as a mother in war-torn Tehran.[1] Born in Iran and having studied acting in Germany, Rashidi's Iranian-German heritage contributed to the authenticity of her performance, drawing on personal experiences of displacement and cultural duality.[21] [22] Her preparation involved channeling the emotional strain of the era, delivering a lead role noted for its intensity in expressing maternal stress and resilience amid external pressures.[23] [1] Avin Manshadi plays Dorsa, Shideh's young daughter, in her feature film debut.[1] Manshadi's portrayal highlights the raw vulnerability of a child in crisis, avoiding overt sentimentality through naturalistic responses that underscore fear and confusion.[24] Her performance earned a nomination for Best Supporting Actress at the 2016 British Independent Film Awards.[24] Bobby Naderi appears as Iraj, Shideh's husband and a doctor conscripted into military service, with his role confined to early scenes that establish familial dynamics before his absence.[1] Naderi's limited screen time effectively conveys the void left by patriarchal figures during wartime mobilization, contributing to the narrative's focus on maternal fortitude.[17]Supporting Cast and Roles
The supporting cast in Under the Shadow features performers who depict the everyday inhabitants of a Tehran apartment building under siege, emphasizing the tension between traditional folklore and modern secularism amid wartime duress. Aram Ghasemy portrays a timid, superstitious downstairs neighbor who warns of djinn possession, embodying communal reliance on pre-Islamic spirits as a coping mechanism for chaos, in stark contrast to Shideh's rational dismissal of such beliefs.[15] This role underscores the film's portrayal of folklore as a cultural anchor for the populace, rooted in Persian oral traditions where djinn are wind-borne entities that exploit human vulnerability.[6] Ray Haratian's Mr. Ebrahimi, a fellow resident whose sudden death from a heart attack heightens suspicions of supernatural interference, further illustrates neighborly interdependence and shared dread, with his family's distress amplifying the building's collective paranoia without descending into exaggeration.[2] Ensemble actors fill out scenes of war refugees sheltering in the structure during Iraqi missile strikes—evacuations mandated by the 1980s War of the Cities, displacing thousands in Tehran—depicting societal fragmentation through hurried relocations and resource strains, grounded in historical accounts of over 200,000 civilian casualties from aerial bombardments.[25] These portrayals avoid stereotypes, instead conveying authentic pressures of scarcity and fear through subtle interactions, such as bartering for shelter. Additional supporting roles include regime representatives, like university officials enforcing ideological purity post-1979 Revolution, who interact briefly with Shideh to highlight institutional surveillance and exclusion of "Western-influenced" individuals, reflecting documented purges of leftist students in Iranian academia during the early 1980s.[26] Arash Marandi as Dr. Reza provides medical counsel amid the escalating hauntings, representing pragmatic authority figures navigating both physical and intangible threats. The ensemble's naturalistic performances, delivered in Persian with restrained emotional restraint typical of Iranian cinema influenced by post-revolutionary constraints, anchor the supernatural motifs in the mundane realities of rationed living and blackout drills, making the otherworldly incursions feel like extensions of historical trauma rather than detached fantasy.[27]Plot
Detailed Synopsis
In 1988 Tehran, during the Iran-Iraq War's War of the Cities phase marked by Iraqi missile barrages, Shideh, a former medical student barred from resuming her studies due to her pre-revolution leftist affiliations, resides in an apartment building with her husband Iraj, a doctor, and their young daughter Dorsa.[28][29] Iraj is conscripted to the front lines, leaving Shideh and Dorsa alone amid intensifying air raids and the need to shelter in place.[28] A neighbor's mute, orphaned boy warns Dorsa of djinn using a cat-hair talisman, which Shideh discards, dismissing folklore.[28] An Iraqi missile strikes the apartment building but fails to detonate, lodging in the structure and reportedly carrying a curse associated with a djinn known as the "mother of shadows," a spirit that exploits personal fears and unresolved guilt.[28][29] Dorsa, attached to her doll Kimia gifted by a deceased neighbor, begins experiencing nightmares of a shrouded woman and develops a fever, while the doll vanishes.[28] Shideh notices poltergeist-like activity, including the disappearance of her Jane Fonda workout videotape and her mother's forbidden book on physical culture, alongside eerie phone calls and shadows.[28][29] Neighbors, including an elderly woman recounting djinn lore, evacuate the building, but Shideh refuses to leave, isolating the family further.[28] As hauntings escalate, Dorsa fixates on recovering Kimia, claiming the entity took it to lure her, and her condition deteriorates with claims of seeing the chador-wearing figure.[29] Shideh attempts to flee during an air raid but encounters obstacles, including a stalled car, and experiences visions tied to her past regrets.[28] In the climax, the djinn manifests more aggressively, attempting to possess Dorsa by enveloping her in its shroud; Shideh confronts the entity directly, retrieves the doll after battling apparitions including a deceptive Iraj, and rescues her daughter.[28][29] The pair escapes the building at dawn and heads to Iraj's parents in the countryside, though remnants like the doll's head and Shideh's book left behind, along with a cracked mirror, imply the entity's persistence.[28]Themes and Interpretations
Historical and Cultural Context
The "War of the Cities," a phase of the Iran-Iraq War spanning 1984 to 1988, saw Iraq deploy ballistic missiles, including Al-Hussein variants derived from Soviet Scud technology, targeting Iranian population centers such as Tehran to demoralize civilians and disrupt rear operations.[30] Between February 1984 and June 1985, followed by a renewed escalation in 1987-1988, Iraq launched approximately 150-200 missiles, causing over 1,500 deaths and 7,000 injuries across cities, with Tehran enduring repeated strikes that prompted citywide blackouts to obscure targets from aerial reconnaissance and prompted partial evacuations of up to 2 million residents during peak bombardments.[30][31] The 1979 Islamic Revolution profoundly reshaped Iranian society, instituting mandatory hijab for women by the early 1980s as a cornerstone of public morality, enforced through revolutionary guards and institutional policies that penalized non-compliance with fines, arrests, or exclusion from public spaces.[32] This coincided with purges in universities, barring individuals—particularly women—perceived as tainted by Western secularism or pre-revolutionary affiliations from higher education, though female enrollment in fields like medicine rebounded to exceed male participation by the mid-1980s under segregated, Islamized curricula.[33][34] The regime's suppression of secular influences extended to cultural artifacts, confiscating Western media and promoting Shia Islamist ideology to consolidate control amid wartime mobilization. Wartime exigencies in Tehran included strict rationing of staples like rice, oil, and meat, distributed via coupons amid import disruptions and sanctions, which strained households and fueled black-market activity.[35] Propaganda posters blanketed urban walls, portraying the conflict as the "Holy Defense" and demonizing Iraq's Saddam Hussein as a puppet of imperial powers, drawing on revolutionary iconography to sustain enlistment and resilience.[36] Civilians sought refuge in communal basement shelters or improvised underground spaces during air raid sirens, as recounted in survivor testimonies of prolonged nights marked by distant explosions and communal solidarity amid pervasive fear.[35]Supernatural Elements and Folklore
The supernatural horror in Under the Shadow revolves around a djinn, an entity derived from pre-Islamic Arabian and Persian traditions, elaborated in the Quran as beings created from smokeless fire (Quran 55:15) and capable of invisibility, shape-shifting, and human affliction through whispers or possession.[37] In Iranian folklore, djinn are often tied to environmental disturbances like wind or violence, which the film depicts via a missile strike embedding a cursed object inscribed with Arabic phrases invoking enmity, awakening the entity within the protagonists' apartment.[38] Director Babak Anvari incorporates authentic elements from his Tehran upbringing, where oral legends portrayed djinn as opportunistic forces exploiting unresolved tensions, such as envy-fueled curses or spiritual neglect, distinct from passive Western ghosts by emphasizing active causal intrusion into human affairs.[39] The djinn's manifestations—subtle shadows, displaced objects like a doll, and auditory lures—mirror hadith descriptions of possession signs including seizures, incomprehensible speech, and behavioral alterations, particularly in vulnerable individuals.[37][40] Central to the narrative is the djinn's affinity for the child Dorsa, reflecting folklore and Islamic traditions where children exhibit heightened susceptibility due to emotional instability or incomplete spiritual safeguards, as seen in accounts of jinn targeting the young amid familial discord or trauma.[37] A key visual motif involves the entity lurking beneath the chador, evoking Persian tales of djinn disguising in veils or garments to breach domestic sanctity, underscoring their lore as deceivers preying on isolation.[41] This integration serves as the film's primary causal mechanism for terror, blending literal folklore mechanics—such as possession attempts thwarted by recitation or confrontation—with ambiguity over whether the djinn embodies external reality or internalized war-induced psychosis, rooted in regional hadiths affirming jinn agency while allowing interpretive doubt.[39][40]Social and Psychological Dimensions
Shideh's character embodies the tension between rational skepticism and encroaching superstition amid wartime duress, initially dismissing reports of a djinn as products of collective hysteria induced by missile strikes and displacement.[42] Her arc traces a psychological unraveling, marked by escalating paranoia and self-doubt, as suppressed ambitions—stemming from her expulsion from medical school due to pre-revolutionary leftist affiliations—collide with maternal responsibilities.[43] This progression highlights individual mental strain rather than purely external imposition, with Shideh's rational worldview fracturing under isolation, though traditional familial bonds, such as her protective instincts toward daughter Dorsa, underscore resilience in adhering to cultural roles despite adversity.[44] Interpersonal dynamics reveal critiques of patriarchal norms, including her husband's frontline deployment as a doctor, which enforces gender-segregated duties and leaves Shideh to navigate societal expectations of domesticity alone.[45] Yet, these are balanced by depictions of traditional family structures fostering endurance, as Shideh draws on folklore and maternal authority to confront threats, countering progressive narratives that overemphasize systemic oppression by illustrating personal agency in lapses, such as her initial neglect of Dorsa's fears. Post-revolutionary policies, including ideological purges that barred women like Shideh from professional paths, empirically contributed to heightened isolation—evidenced by restricted access to education and public life—but the film avoids excusing individual shortcomings, portraying her pre-war radicalism as a causal factor in her marginalization.[22] The narrative's psychological realism aligns with documented effects of prolonged conflict on civilians, including PTSD symptoms like hypervigilance and intrusive thoughts, which mirror Shideh's experiences of guilt over perceived failures as a mother during bombardments.[46] Studies on Iran-Iraq War survivors indicate high rates of comorbid PTSD, anxiety, and depression among non-combatants, particularly in urban settings like Tehran, where aerial attacks disrupted daily life and amplified maternal guilt through separation anxiety and survival pressures.[47] This portrayal resists overly politicized feminist interpretations by grounding trauma in universal human responses to scarcity and loss, rather than attributing it solely to gendered ideologies, while noting how revolutionary zeal's empirical fallout—such as economic sanctions and internal purges—exacerbated familial isolation without negating personal accountability.[48]Release
Premiere and Distribution
The film premiered in the Midnight section of the Sundance Film Festival on January 22, 2016.[49] Netflix acquired global streaming rights shortly thereafter, enabling a broader international rollout following limited theatrical screenings.[50] In the United Kingdom, Under the Shadow received a theatrical release on September 23, 2016, distributed by Vertigo Releasing.[51] Vertical Entertainment handled the limited U.S. theatrical release on October 7, 2016.[1] The film's distribution avoided an official Iranian release, given its setting in post-revolutionary Tehran and depiction of societal restrictions during the Iran-Iraq War, which clashed with state censorship standards. No theatrical or official screenings occurred in Iran, reflecting sensitivities around portrayals of the regime and wartime conditions. Regional distribution in the Middle East faced constraints from censorship of war-related violence and supernatural folklore elements, restricting theatrical availability in several countries. Post-theatrical, Netflix's streaming platform from late 2016 onward significantly expanded accessibility, bypassing some traditional barriers without relying on widespread box office performance.[4]Marketing and Box Office
The film's marketing campaign emphasized its status as an independent horror production, leveraging festival premieres and targeted digital trailers to generate buzz among genre enthusiasts rather than broad mainstream advertising. Premiering in the Midnight section at the 2016 Sundance Film Festival, Under the Shadow secured distribution deals, including acquisition by Netflix for streaming rights and a limited theatrical release by Vertical Entertainment in the US starting October 7, 2016.[52] [53] Promotional materials focused on the war-horror hybrid and Persian folklore elements, such as the djinn entity, to appeal to horror fans seeking culturally specific scares, while downplaying explicit political themes tied to the Iran-Iraq War setting to enhance accessibility.[8] With a constrained advertising budget typical of low-cost indie films, efforts prioritized online trailers, social media clips, and genre festival screenings over expensive TV or print campaigns.[54] Box office performance reflected the challenges of niche independent horror distribution, yielding limited returns in line with its micro-budget production. In the US and Canada, the film grossed $28,884 across a brief theatrical run in 14 locations, achieving an average per-screen earning of approximately $2,063 during its opening weekend.[53] [54] International earnings added $123,039, for a worldwide total of $151,923, underscoring its appeal primarily through genre festivals and streaming rather than wide commercial release.[53] This modest financial outcome highlighted the realities of the indie horror market, where festival acclaim and targeted promotion to dedicated audiences often prioritize critical visibility over high grosses.[1]Reception and Analysis
Critical Acclaim
Under the Shadow garnered strong critical praise for its atmospheric tension and genre fusion, achieving a 99% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes from 92 reviews, with the site's consensus noting its effective blend of horror and social elements delivered through a chiller with timely themes.[2] Critics highlighted the film's technical proficiency, particularly in sound design and cinematography, which built dread incrementally amid the Iran-Iraq War backdrop, evoking both supernatural unease and historical realism without relying on overt jump scares.[17] Sheila O'Malley of RogerEbert.com gave the film four out of four stars on October 7, 2016, commending director Babak Anvari's subtle progression from mundane domestic strife to escalating horror, where the boundaries between psychological strain and otherworldly threats blur imperceptibly.[17] The review emphasized the seamless integration of folklore-inspired elements with the protagonist's personal turmoil, crediting strong performances by Narges Rashidi and Avin Ahmadi for grounding the narrative in authentic emotional stakes.[17] Peter Bradshaw in The Guardian called it "supremely scary" on September 29, 2016, praising its Iranian cultural lens for infusing familiar horror motifs with fresh geopolitical resonance, including the oppression of women under post-revolutionary restrictions, while avoiding didacticism in its allegorical layering.[55] Reviewers across outlets recognized the film's restraint in allegory, allowing wartime fears and djinn mythology to intertwine organically, resulting in a consensus view of it as a standout debut that elevated horror through precise pacing and cultural specificity rather than spectacle.[2][55]Criticisms and Debates
Some reviewers have critiqued the film's pacing, particularly in its early domestic sequences, which prioritize character setup and subtext over immediate tension, resulting in minimal scares during the initial quarter of the runtime. [56] This slow build, while effective for atmospheric dread, has been described as uneven or redundant in moments that repeat actions like searching for a lost doll, potentially straining viewer engagement before supernatural elements intensify. [57] Others noted a reliance on psychological horror and metaphor, with only a handful of overt jump scares, limiting visceral frights in favor of emotional directness tied to familial and societal strains. [58] Interpretations of the film's allegory have sparked debate, with left-leaning outlets often framing the djinn as a symbol of entrenched patriarchy and female oppression exacerbated by post-revolutionary restrictions on women, such as mandatory veiling and exclusion from education. [59] [44] In contrast, analyses grounded in historical causation emphasize the 1979 Islamic Revolution's role in precipitating societal collapse, including the Iran-Iraq War's bombardments and the imposition of theocratic ideology, which revived pre-modern superstitions like djinn lore amid rational secularism's erosion. [60] [23] This view posits that the revolution's policies, rather than timeless patriarchy alone, causally fostered the psychological vulnerabilities and cultural regressions depicted, as evidenced by ongoing official invocations of supernatural entities in Iranian politics. [61] Regarding cultural fidelity, the djinn's portrayal has drawn minor scrutiny for sensationalizing folklore elements, with visions escalating to overt manifestations that diverge from the subtler, inferential style of traditional Persian cinema, possibly to heighten appeal for Western audiences. [62] While rooted in Quranic references to jinn as spiritual beings, the film's adaptation prioritizes horror universality over strict ethnographic accuracy, leading some observers to question the protagonist's depicted ignorance of ritual protections against such entities in an Islamic context. [23]Audience and Cultural Impact
Under the Shadow garnered a user rating of 6.8 out of 10 on IMDb, based on over 32,000 votes, reflecting solid audience appreciation among viewers who valued its atmospheric tension and subtle scares over conventional jump scares.[1] Many user reviews emphasize the film's psychological depth, portraying the djinn entity as a metaphor for wartime trauma and ideological repression, which resonated with audiences seeking horror grounded in real historical events rather than gore or spectacle.[1] The film developed a dedicated following within horror enthusiast circles, particularly for its integration of Persian folklore with the 1980s Iran-Iraq War backdrop, distinguishing it from Western-centric supernatural narratives.[63] Discussions in horror podcasts during the 2020s, such as episodes analyzing its release amid ongoing global conflicts, highlight themes of maternal resilience and psychological endurance, drawing parallels to contemporary geopolitical stresses without sensationalism.[64][65] In Iranian diaspora communities, Under the Shadow sparked conversations about the suppressed personal histories of the revolutionary era and war, offering an allegory for cultural and familial disruptions that critiques authoritarian constraints indirectly through supernatural unease, independent of state-sanctioned interpretations.[6][66] This has contributed to its niche influence on subsequent war-infused horror, inspiring filmmakers to blend geopolitical realism with folklore in low-budget productions post-2016.[67]Accolades
Awards and Nominations
Under the Shadow garnered recognition from various film awards bodies, particularly in independent and genre categories, for its direction, screenplay, and debut status.[68][69] At the 2016 British Independent Film Awards, the film won Best Director and Best Screenplay for Babak Anvari, as well as Best Supporting Actress for Avin Manshadi; it was also nominated for Best British Independent Film and Best Actress for Narges Rashidi.[68][70] The film secured the Best Feature Film award at the 2016 Sitges Film Festival.[71] In the 2017 BAFTA Awards, it won Outstanding Debut by a British Writer, Director or Producer for Anvari alongside producers Emily Leo, Oliver Roskill, and Lucan Toh, while receiving a nomination for Outstanding British Film.[69][72] For the 2017 Saturn Awards, Under the Shadow earned nominations for Best International Film and Best Actress for Narges Rashidi.[73][74]| Award | Category | Result | Recipient | Year |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| British Independent Film Awards | Best Director | Won | Babak Anvari | 2016 |
| British Independent Film Awards | Best Screenplay | Won | Babak Anvari | 2016 |
| British Independent Film Awards | Best Supporting Actress | Won | Avin Manshadi | 2016 |
| BAFTA Awards | Outstanding Debut by a British Writer, Director or Producer | Won | Babak Anvari, Emily Leo, Oliver Roskill, Lucan Toh | 2017 |
| Sitges Film Festival | Best Feature Film | Won | Babak Anvari (for Under the Shadow) | 2016 |
| Saturn Awards | Best International Film | Nominated | — | 2017 |
| Saturn Awards | Best Actress | Nominated | Narges Rashidi | 2017 |