At first glance, Tatami feels like a throwback. It’s shot in dramatic black and white, reminiscent of old-school sports dramas from the golden age of Hollywood. But don’t let that classic look fool you—this film punches way above its weight in modern relevance. Imagine Raging Bull met Persepolis at a judo match, with a few government officials lurking in the background ready to ruin everyone’s day.
This isn’t just a movie about sports. It’s a movie about politics dressed in a judo uniform, where the real opponent isn’t across the mat—it’s back home in the halls of power. Let’s dive into why Tatami isn’t just a gripping drama—it’s a cinematic judo throw aimed straight at authoritarianism.
1. The Setup: Black Belts and Blacklists
The film opens with the Iranian women’s national judo team on a bus, heading to Tbilisi, Georgia. Among them is Leila, the star judoka (played by Arienne Mandi). She’s focused, formidable, and fiercely determined to win gold. Her biggest competitor? An Israeli athlete. And that’s where the trouble begins.
You see, Iran doesn’t recognize Israel as a state. And that means Iranian athletes aren’t allowed to compete against Israelis. That’s not just a sporting directive—it’s a political landmine. The Iranian government has a long-standing policy of pressuring its athletes to withdraw, feign injuries, or simply disappear when they’re about to face an Israeli.
Think of it this way: Leila just wants to win a medal, but the government wants to use her as a pawn in its ideological chess game. And suddenly, this underdog sports story becomes a tense political thriller.
2. A Coach, A Friend, A Complicated Ask
Leila isn’t alone. By her side is Maryam (played by Zar Amir Ebrahimi), her coach, mentor, and longtime friend. Maryam used to be a judo star herself, someone Leila looked up to as a child. Now, she’s the one caught in the middle—tasked with both guiding Leila to victory and, as it turns out, convincing her to take a dive for political reasons.
The pressure starts small. A few subtle nudges from Iranian officials. Then it ramps up: tense phone calls, threats, consequences. Maryam is told to “handle” the situation—to make sure Leila doesn’t compete against the Israeli opponent. And if that means faking an injury or quitting the tournament, so be it.
Suddenly, Maryam’s caught in her own judo match—except the moves are all emotional, and the stakes are terrifyingly real.
3. What’s in a Name? A Lot, Actually.
The film’s title, Tatami, refers to the soft mats used in judo arenas. But in the world of this film, the tatami is more than just a padded floor—it’s a battlefield. Not just for athletes, but for ideologies.
There are three “arenas” in Tatami:
- The physical one: where Leila fights her opponents.
- The political one: where Iran’s government uses sports as a proxy for propaganda.
- The internal one: where Leila and Maryam wrestle with conscience, fear, duty, and identity.
In essence, Tatami shows us that the fight isn’t just about a medal. It’s about being allowed to fight at all.
4. Family, Flashbacks, and Fights
Leila’s life back in Tehran is also shown, albeit in flashbacks that feel like they arrive fashionably late. Her husband Nadeh (played by Ash Goldeh) is loving and supportive. They’ve got two kids and a family that eagerly watches her matches on TV. There’s even a moment before she leaves where a World Judo Federation official calls to ask if she has her husband’s permission to travel.
Yes, you read that right—permission. From her husband. To travel. That call alone could win the movie a gold medal in “Subtle Gut Punches.”
These home scenes give us a look into what Leila is fighting for: not just glory, but dignity, freedom, and the right to define her own identity. She’s not just battling a judo opponent—she’s grappling with societal control, cultural expectations, and political oppression.
5. The Black-and-White Throwback
Shot entirely in black and white, the cinematography by Todd Martin is more than a stylistic flex. It gives the film a timeless, noir-ish atmosphere. Think The Set-Up, Body and Soul, or Killer’s Kiss. The shadows are deep, the contrasts are sharp, and every frame crackles with tension.
This style does something clever: it strips away distractions. No flashy colors. No CGI. Just faces, fists, and feelings. It forces you to focus on the story, on the expressions, on the moral grey zones.
And yes, the film definitely channels Raging Bull—but with a twist. Instead of testosterone-fueled spirals of self-destruction, Tatami shows women pushing back against a male-dominated system. It’s like Raging Bull grew up, got politically aware, and decided it had something important to say.
6. The Directors: A Duo That Says It All
Here’s the poetic irony: Tatami is co-directed by two people who—if they were athletes—wouldn’t be allowed to face each other on the mat. One is Guy Nattiv, an Israeli filmmaker. The other is Zar Amir Ebrahimi, the Iranian actress who also plays Maryam and co-produced the film. She fled Iran nearly two decades ago.
Their collaboration is a direct counterpoint to the film’s central conflict. The very existence of Tatami is a rebellion—a middle finger to borders, bans, and governments that hijack personal ambition for political gain.
The script was penned by Nattiv and Elham Erfani, a French-Iranian writer and actress. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t shoot the movie in Iran. Criticizing the Iranian regime on camera tends to land you in jail—not a great place to finish post-production.
7. The Back Half: A Bit of Drag, But the Punches Still Land
Okay, let’s be real. Not everything in Tatami is flawless. Once you hit the midway point, things get a little repetitive. There are one too many judo matches, and the tension starts to feel like it’s circling the mat instead of landing hits. Some of the flashbacks, especially the ones near the end, feel like they wandered in from another movie. While they aim to humanize Leila, they arrive so late that they don’t quite click emotionally.
But you know what? That’s a small gripe in an otherwise gripping experience. The momentum is mostly rock solid, and the themes are so compelling that you’re willing to forgive the pacing hiccups. The political stakes keep escalating, and you’re glued to the screen wondering if Leila will stick to her principles—or bow to the pressure.
8. The Bigger Picture: Sports as a Battlefield
What Tatami does best is strip the “sports movie” down to its emotional and philosophical bones. It’s not about trophies or training montages. It’s about how governments treat athletes like chess pieces instead of people.
There’s a haunting moment when the International Judo Federation officials discuss whether to intervene. Their hesitation echoes a broader truth: when politics infect sports, the people in charge often turn into spectators themselves.
But Leila isn’t here to spectate. She’s here to fight. And every step she takes toward the mat is an act of defiance.
9. A Universal Struggle: The Individual vs. The State
At its core, Tatami tells a story that goes far beyond judo or geopolitics. It’s about the individual vs. the state. The person vs. the system. The human heart vs. the cold machinery of ideology.
And it’s told through a lens that’s striking, urgent, and deeply personal.
Whether you’re an athlete, an artist, a student, or just someone trying to live authentically in a world full of restrictions, there’s something in Tatami that will hit home. It reminds us that courage doesn’t always look like a punch or a kick. Sometimes, it looks like standing your ground when everything around you is shaking.
Final Thoughts: Why This Fight Matters
Tatami is a rare gem—bold, bruising, and beautifully made. It uses a familiar genre (sports thriller) to tell a story that’s rarely told on screen. It reminds us that the real fight often happens off the mat—in whispers, in threats, in quiet acts of resistance.
It’s not just about a judo match. It’s about the fight for identity, dignity, and the freedom to just play the damn game.
And that’s a fight worth watching.
