Interview With Hamed Zolfaghari, Director of Vanishing Tracks
Vanishing Tracks Had Its World Premiere at Hot Docs. The Film Follows the Migration of Iran’s Qashqai Nomads.
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Reaching Hamed Zolfaghari was not easy. He was in Iran, and because of internet disruptions and connection issues, our conversation took some time to happen.
In Zolfaghari’s work, there is a clear effort to record the voices of people who are often left unseen. His films engage with questions of development, identity, rural women, the environment, and nomadic life. A strong social concern runs through his body of work.
This conversation was held on the occasion of the world premiere of Vanishing Tracks at Hot Docs in Toronto.
How did you decide to make a film about nomads and the Qashqai tribe?
I am originally Qashqai. The Qashqai are one of the oldest tribes in Iran, living in the southern part of the Iranian plateau. Decades ago, policies of forced settlement for nomadic communities began, and my grandfather was among those who experienced this change. My father lived in the city, and I was also born in the city.
To answer this question, I should first explain a little about nomadic life and what it requires. Nomadic life is built around livestock and migration. Until not so long ago, around 20 percent of Iran’s population made a living through this way of life. But because of state policies and social changes during both the Pahlavi era and the Islamic Republic, this figure has fallen to around 2 percent. Still, this 2 percent provides nearly 20 percent of the protein consumed in the country.
This way of life has survived and flourished for thousands of years on the Iranian plateau. For many years, I worked with NGOs and in social development activities. Part of our concern was to defend the rights of these communities, both as stakeholders and as protectors of Iran’s environment and natural resources. During all those years, I always wanted to make a film about “nomadic migration”. With the expansion of cities and wrong models of development, migration has become more difficult every year.
At the same time, these people and this way of life are deeply fascinating to me. Many films have been made about nomads, but this world is still unknown and full of contradictions. That contradiction was important to me, because I have always been drawn to questions that remain alive even after you find an answer.
These people have unique qualities. The image of life across wide open plains, and the sense of freedom they carry, is something many people long for. At the same time, this life can seem very traditional, difficult, and full of hardship. But there are qualities in it that we, as urban people, can only wish for. In some ways, even in today’s world, those qualities feel modern.
How did you find the Qezelbash family?
The idea for this film goes back almost ten years. I was looking for a Qashqai family with whom I could begin this journey. Around seven years ago, I chose Valiollah and Dorna. They are relatives of mine.
I explained to them how I wanted to make the film, how long the process would take, and what difficulties we might face along the way. What was interesting was that they asked for one month to think about it. After they accepted, we began the work.
What was it like working with them?
A film always begins before the camera is turned on. It begins with conversation, silence, and the slow formation of trust. In documentary cinema, trust is more important than presence, but trust can only be built through presence.
We spent long periods of time with them, and this allowed a real, mutual relationship to take shape between us. That relationship continued throughout the six years of filming.
You mentioned that during filming, your camera was very close to the emotional state of the characters, sometimes anxious and sometimes calm. The visual quality of the film was also very strong. Can you talk about the cinematography style?
The beauty of documentary cinema lies in its uncertainty. Our process is a conversation with the unknown. We filmed for many years, and that long period gave us the chance to understand the unknown more clearly.
Around two years after we started, I had a fairly clear structure of the script in my mind. So we knew where each sequence would belong in the film, and what feeling it needed to carry.
My cinematographer, Pooyan Ranjbar, came from fiction cinema, and that background was very important for this film. It helped us reach a more precise sense of mise-en-scene and detail.
The key to the success of our form was patience in observation. This is not easy at all. We often spent a long time recording a single shot, waiting for the magic of cinema to reveal itself.
Although Pouyan did not speak Qashqai Turkish, he had become so close to the characters that he had a clear understanding of who they were. For a documentary cinematographer, this is very important. Understanding the moments that happen in front of the camera depends on a kind of intuition, one that comes from knowledge and empathy.
You created dream sequences in a documentary film. Can you tell us about that?
Dreams are an important part of the characters’ inner world. Cinema itself has always been, in some way, close to the experience of dreaming.
In this film, we had put aside dialogue, which is usually an important element in documentary cinema. So the dreams helped us show what was happening inside the minds of the characters.
Can you tell us more about the relationship between the filmmaking team and the characters?
For me, subjects are never material. My films usually take several years to make, and this means building a living and deep relationship with the people who play a major role in creating the film.
Before and after filming, we always spoke with them about the film. They played an important part in shaping the narrative. Their thoughts, imagination, and way of looking at the realities present in the film all entered the work.
At some point, our relationship went beyond collaboration and became a deep friendship. That connection still continues.
Can you also explain the dreams and visions of the sheep? Were they created with visual effects, or did you really take the sheep to a metro station?
This part was very important to me. Since this way of life is based on keeping sheep, I wanted the point of view to turn toward them at some point, so we could see the world from the perspective of the sheep.
I have always been fascinated by images in which something ancient passes through the modern world. This is an abstract idea, and only cinema gives me the chance to show the dream of a sheep.
Part of these sequences was created with visual effects, and another part was made with semi-documentary shots, meaning shots in which the animals were really present. We built a nomadic green screen and tried many times for each shot. Sheep and goats are very restless, and guiding them is not easy. Some shots took several days. We had to test different combinations of animals to reach the mise-en-scene we wanted.
We had a specialized team for this section, but it was the first time something like this was being done in this way. So the process needed a great deal of patience.
Today, perhaps similar images can be created with artificial intelligence, but the difference between those images and real images is still easy to notice, especially for viewers with a more sensitive eye.
Our goal was to create a space that felt surreal, while keeping the behavior and details of the animals completely real. Judging from the audience reactions, it seems we came quite close to that goal.
In the film, you show theft less as something to condemn, and more as a cultural issue and part of nomadic customs.
Look, this kind of theft has sometimes had a traditional form in certain communities. In the past, there was something close to raiding. In times of economic crisis, some human communities believed they had the right to take part of the property of someone who was in a better situation.
What is interesting is that the owner of the property would usually find the thief. And when the thief was found, they would even allow part of the stolen property to remain with him. They called it “the right of the shoes worn out on the way to steal.”
The nature of this practice was mostly connected to survival mechanisms during difficult times and periods of drought.
In this film, we also face a contemporary form of this subculture, but I will not say more, so I do not reveal the story.
Can you also talk about the editing of the film?
Around two years after we began filming, we started the editing process at the same time.
There are, in fact, two clear storylines in the film, and they gradually become intertwined. In the overall structure, we tried to remain faithful to the seasons of the characters’ lives, while also telling their personal stories.
I did the main editing myself, but at several stages I also consulted with two other editors: Gladys Joujou in France, who had also edited my previous film, and my dear friend Pouya Parsamagham in Iran.
Vanishing Tracks had its world premiere at Hot Docs in Toronto. The film screened on Monday, April 27, 2026, at the TIFF cinema.
Director Hamed Zolfaghari is on Instagram: Hamed Zolfaghari
Toronto Screening Tickets
Available via the Hot Docs box office.
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This piece, published by Souzian Dispatch and written by Abbas Souzian, is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0), unless otherwise noted.
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