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Mohammad Hossein Nikzad
The Third Dream
XXI | ÉCU FILM FESTIVAL | 2026
24-26 April
Les 7 parnassiens Paris
THE THIRD DREAM
Non-European Dramatic Short
18:42 | Islamic Republic of Iran
Directed: Mohammad Hossein Nikzad
Images © Katia Lom
APR, 23, 2026
A dreamer resists interrogation by a relentless doctor determined to extract the truth about his dream by coercive use of psychoanalysis. As pressure deepens, memories are altered, erased, and rewritten at will. With no escape from the authority’s reach, he realises the truth was never his to protect, and confession was inevitable from the beginning.
Hey Mohammad, thank you fro taking the time to talk with us ahead of this years festival. What does it mean to bring The Third Dream to ÉCU in Paris?
Bringing The Third Dream to ÉCU in Paris is very meaningful to me. ÉCU has a strong reputation for supporting independent voices and bold storytelling, and that aligns closely with how this film was made.
It is also a real honour for me and for my team, who worked on this project with a lot of courage under significant constraints in Iran. Being able to bring the film to an international platform like this means a lot to all of us.
For me, the film comes from a very specific sociopolitical context, but it was never meant to remain local. It is about power, control, and the manipulation of meaning, which are universal experiences. Presenting it in Paris creates a dialogue between that local reality and a wider international audience. It is also a valuable opportunity for us to see how audiences from different backgrounds respond to our way of storytelling, especially a form that tries to move beyond censorship by using symbolism and layered meaning.
You’ve already had an amazing festival run with The Third Dream, what do you think it is about your film that’s connected so much with audiences?
I think the connection comes from the emotional structure of the film rather than just its narrative.
Even though the film is rooted in a specific context, the feeling of being controlled, of having your reality questioned or reshaped, is something many people can relate to in different ways. Instead of explaining everything directly, the film invites interpretation.
From the beginning, we did not want to portray political interrogation through a linear form that tells the audience exactly how it works. We wanted to create a cinematic experience out of that process, something that allows viewers to feel it rather than just understand it. That approach helps the film resonate with a wider audience and asks them to actively think about the nature of interrogation itself.
Audiences are not just watching, they are decoding and participating. That engagement creates a more personal and lasting connection.
What has winning the awards for The Third Dream meant to you and your personal journey as a filmmaker?
It’s been very encouraging, especially because this is my first professional short film.
More than recognition, it feels like confirmation that the risks I took, working with symbolism and avoiding conventional storytelling, can resonate beyond my immediate environment. It gives me confidence to continue developing this kind of cinematic language in future projects.
At the same time, I don’t really see filmmaking as a competition. For me, it is a process that gradually pushes you toward becoming a better filmmaker. What matters most is the feedback, how audiences react, how they interpret the film, and how that shapes the way I think about my next projects.
Do nerves still set in ahead of a film screening?
Yes, absolutely. Each screening feels like a new experience, because every audience reacts differently. When a film relies on atmosphere and interpretation, you’re never fully sure how it will land. That uncertainty brings a kind of nervous energy, but also excitement.
What's been the most exciting part of sharing your film with festival audiences?
Seeing how different audiences interpret the film. Sometimes viewers pick up on layers or meanings that I did not consciously construct, and that is fascinating. It shows that the film is alive and continues to evolve through the audience’s perception.
This was also my initial aim for the film. I wanted to create an experience that invites the audience to think about the story, not just receive it fully formed. It asks them how they understand it. That kind of engagement can become a very meaningful and, in my opinion, a quite pleasant cinematic experience.
If you could describe The Third Dream in a sentence what would you say?
It’s a film about what happens when power extends beyond reality and begins to control even our dreams.
Tell me a little bit about The Third Dream, what inspired your screenplay?
It began with a question: what if even the subconscious is not a safe space?
After the Women, Life, Freedom movement, I was thinking a lot about interrogation, not as a search for truth, but as a system of control. In these systems, truth becomes irrelevant, and the outcome is already predetermined.
As an artist living in Iran, it is very important for me to constantly question what form my work should take in response to the sociopolitical realities we face, and how those conditions can be represented in cinema. At the same time, it is also essential to be very careful about the possible consequences that a film might have for the cast, the crew, and even their families. Because of that, every decision has to be very precise and considered.
The Third Dream became, in a way, a form of research for me. It was an attempt to find a language that can depict these experiences under such circumstances.
I wanted to translate that into a cinematic form, but not through direct representation. Instead, I used dreams as a metaphor, a space where reality can be distorted, rewritten, and manipulated.
What has been the biggest challenges you've faced putting your film together?
Maintaining intensity within limitation. The film is set in a confined space with very few characters, so everything depends on performance, rhythm, and atmosphere. There is no room for distraction. Every element, including camera, sound, and lighting, had to work together very precisely.
On top of that, as an independent production, we had to achieve everything within a very limited timeframe. We shot the film in just four days because of budget constraints, so we could not afford mistakes or delays. That meant we had to rehearse extensively before shooting, making sure every movement and every beat was carefully prepared in advance.
How essential was the creative collaboration between you and your cinematographers Alireza Barazandeh and Hamed Ezzatkhah in creating the right look you wanted for The Third Dream?
It was fundamental. Alireza Barazandeh, who was also my cinematography mentor, immediately understood the conceptual world of the film. We worked closely to design a visual language where the space itself transforms, subtly shifting from a clinical environment into something more oppressive.
That collaboration was not just technical, it was deeply conceptual. The camera had to reflect psychological change, not just physical space.
At the same time, the collaboration itself became something very important creatively. By working closely with Alireza and Hamed, and constantly communicating on set, we were able to build a world that went beyond what I initially imagined. Especially under very limited time, that level of coordination and shared understanding made a big difference, and for me, the result of that process was very rewarding.
When did composer Nima Ramezan come on board, had you already had an idea of the type of score you wanted?
Nima came on board during post-production. I didn’t want a traditional film score. I was looking for something more organic—something that feels like it emerges from within the film rather than being imposed on it. Nima isn’t a conventional film composer, and that’s exactly why I chose him. His sound has an emotional texture that blends into the film’s atmosphere instead of guiding the audience too directly.
What was the hardest scene for you to shoot?
The desert scene was definitely the most difficult to shoot. The conditions were very harsh. The sun was extremely intense, and we had to carry all of our equipment, including the refrigerator, into the middle of the desert. Working under that heat for long hours was physically demanding for everyone.
Salman had an especially challenging role in those scenes because he was constantly running, so it required a lot of energy and endurance from him. Overall, it was the toughest part for both him and the entire team. After about twelve hours of shooting in that environment, most of us ended up with sunburn.
How close did you stick to your screenplay once you go into production?
Structurally, I stayed very close to the screenplay. But within that structure, I allowed space for discovery, especially in performance and timing. The script defined the architecture, but the emotional details evolved during production.
With the close collaboration of my actors, Salman Salehi and Alireza Sanifar, we refined parts of the dialogue on set to make them more natural and aligned with the intensity of the scenes. At the same time, I was in constant communication with Alireza Barazandeh about how to approach each scene visually, and some of those decisions led to changes that added real value to the film.
Also, working closely with my production designer, Faraz Modiri, we were always looking for more creative ways to explore and expand the world of the film. That ongoing exchange helped shape the final result in a very meaningful way.
Where did your passion for filmmaking come from?
It actually started as a childhood dream. I always wanted to become a filmmaker.
But when I entered university, I was living in a context with constant financial pressure, both in the country and within my family situation. Because of that, it was difficult to pursue filmmaking as my first path. I chose to study pharmacy as a way to secure myself financially.
At the same time, I never left cinema. Gradually, alongside my academic studies, I started building my own independent path in filmmaking.
Pharmacy trained me to think analytically and structurally, while cinema gave me a way to explore questions that could not be approached scientifically, questions about perception, meaning, and human experience. Over time, filmmaking became the space where those two ways of thinking came together.
How much did your time at the Karnameh Institute of Arts and Culture influence your filmmaking?
Karnameh had a significant impact on my development as a filmmaker. It exposed me to a more disciplined and analytical approach to cinema, and I had the chance to learn from remarkable mentors. Shahram Mokri, an esteemed Iranian director, had a strong influence on how I think about directing and shaping a cinematic vision.
At the same time, Farhad Tohidi, my screenwriting instructor, worked closely with me on all of my screenplays, including The Third Dream. His guidance played an important role in how I approach narrative and structure.
Alireza Barazandeh also influenced my understanding of visual storytelling through cinematography.
I feel very honoured to have been able to work closely with these artists. I learned a great deal from them, and Karnameh helped me understand filmmaking not just as expression, but as a system that you construct carefully, layer by layer.
"Over time, filmmaking became the space where those two ways of thinking came together."
What has been the most valuable lesson from making The Third Dream?
The most valuable lesson for me was learning to be patient in the process and to communicate effectively with the cast and crew.
Every artist involved in filmmaking brings a unique vision, and it is very important to listen carefully to their ideas and understand whether they serve the core concept of the film. Being open to new perspectives, while also knowing when to accept or reject them, is a crucial part of directing.
I also learned that in independent filmmaking, timing and collaboration require patience. Many experienced professionals have limited availability, so it is important to wait for the right people to join the project rather than rushing the process and compromising the quality of the film.
What would you say your films say about you as a filmmaker and the types of stories you want to tell moving forward?
I’m interested in how systems, whether social, psychological, or political, shape human perception.
My films tend to explore spaces where reality becomes unstable, where meaning is contested, and where individuals are forced to navigate structures of control. That is something I will continue to explore.
At the same time, I want to go deeper into Persian literature and storytelling. We have very profound classical and contemporary works, and I am interested in reinterpreting them through cinema.
I am also drawn to exploring the human psyche, especially in relation to power and how it shapes thought and behaviour. Moving forward, I want to create films that push the boundaries of storytelling, works that require more active participation from the
As an Iranian filmmaker will you continue to create films and write stories that showcase Persian culture and heritage?
Yes, but not necessarily in a direct or traditional way. Being Iranian is not just about the place I was born. It is a core part of my identity. Exploring Persian literature and stories is something I engage with continuously, and it informs my approach to filmmaking on a daily level.
At the same time, I am interested in translating those cultural and sociopolitical realities into cinematic language through form, symbolism, and structure, rather than only direct representation. My goal is to evoke these elements in a more contemporary way of storytelling, so they can remain alive and meaningful within today’s world.
Who have been your biggest inspirations?
I’m influenced by Iranian filmmakers who challenge narrative form and explore perception, especially directors like Abbas Kiarostami, Bahram Beyzaie, and Shahram Mokri.
Among international filmmakers, I am very inspired by Luis Buñuel and David Lynch, particularly in how they encapsulate meaning through surrealism and create worlds that operate beyond conventional logic.
At the same time, I admire directors like David Fincher and Quentin Tarantino for their distinct approaches to engaging the audience and creating rhythm within their films. Each of them has a very unique way of shaping tension and maintaining attention.
I am also deeply inspired by Ingmar Bergman and the way he uses symbolism to express ideas that are almost impossible to convey through a linear narrative.
More broadly, I am drawn to any work that pushes cinema beyond storytelling into a space of inquiry.
And finally, what do you hope people will take away from The Third Dream?
I hope they feel both the weight of control and the possibility of resistance. The film does not offer answers. It invites interpretation. If viewers leave questioning what they saw and reflecting on what is visible and what is hidden, then the film has done its job.
I also hope they connect with and enjoy our way of storytelling about the sociopolitical context in Iran. It is not superficial, and it asks for engagement, for thought, and for personal interpretation from the audience.