The EU migrant crisis peaked over 2015 and 2016, and the US withdrew from Afghanistan in 2021. While these moments may fade in public memory or diminish as a contemporary political touchpoint, their victims continue to be afflicted. A Fox Under a Pink Moon is a masterful, poignant reminder of global polycrisis and its everyday casualties.
The EU migrant crisis peaked over 2015 and 2016, and the US withdrew from Afghanistan in 2021. While these moments may fade in public memory or diminish as a contemporary political touchpoint, their victims continue to be afflicted. A Fox Under a Pink Moon is a masterful, poignant reminder of global polycrisis and its everyday casualties. Through five years of Samsung Galaxy cell phone footage, striking a balance between video diary and documentary, Soraya Akhalaghi—with the entirely remote co-directing of Iranian producer Mehrdad Oskouei—records her real-time efforts to leave Iran, reach Turkey and cross the Greek border.
Interspersed with her attempts to leave Iran, the film imparts the glum reality of Soraya’s surroundings. She is without family—Soraya’s father died when she was a child, and she seeks reunion with her mother, who left for Austria eight years prior, and was raised by an abusive uncle thereafter. Her only legal family is her husband, whom she appears to have married at 15. Some of the most jarring moments of the film are when we hear Soraya’s anguished cries as he beats her, followed by clips of her applying cream to her bruises.
The closest thing to companionship we see Soraya have is in her creations. Animations of her art are showcased throughout the film, offering the viewer an entirely different, extraordinarily vulnerable, dimension of Soraya’s experience. Through her art, we become accustomed to three motifs: the clown embodies Soraya in perpetual suffering, the fox her understanding friend and the pink moon: a guiding light through her strife. Together, they become a “complete family”.
But these characters are no mere solace. Soraya’s artistic capabilities are striking. Though whimsical and surrealist, her art effectively captures the human sentiments central to her journey: suffering, innocence, and sometimes, enduring hope. We also see Soraya’s sculptures, constructed from soaked egg cartons or clay. The artistic segments are simultaneously gut-wrenching and awe-inspiring, as the viewer absorbs this profound encapsulation of struggle through the medium of her inner world. In spite of her enveloping hardship, it seems Soraya’s creativity is bursting at the seams of her mind and within the animated segments of the film, as we see her drawings and sculptures materialise on the walls of dilapidated buildings.
It is this ingenuity that betrays her young age, as Soraya reflects and expresses herself with the resolve, tact and profundity of a fully-fledged adult. We only find out her age a couple of years into the recordings—17 in 2021, so approximately 16 when she would have begun her documentation.
This gradual unravelling of key details is typical of the film. Just as her age is a delayed revelation, so is her identity as an Afghan refugee who was mostly raised in Tehran. It is a strength of this ‘day-in-the-life’ selfie-style documentary format that makes Soraya’s story all the more compelling, as the layered challenges she faces progressively unveil themselves.
All the same, the feeling of progressing deeper into her adversities does not exempt the viewer from Soraya’s experience of cyclical failure and futility as she tries to reach Greece. Attempts at smuggling are referred to as “games”—games that we see Soraya play and lose countless times—including days of trekking across the Iranian mountains, an almost two-week stay in bedbug-infested ruins and multiple run-ins with various government authorities.
The film also includes audio overlays of her phoning Oskouei, whom she refers to as ‘Uncle Mehrdad’, updating him on the progress of her journey. After she finally escapes the clutches of her husband and almost drowns in her final ‘game’ play from Turkey to Greece, the film breathes a final, long exhale as she calls Oskouei victorious: ‘I told you! I told you I could do it!’
A Fox Under a Pink Moon is no pleasure or respite from reality. Rather, watching the film is a sharp reminder of the omnipresence of injustice and the perseverance of the human spirit. It is a tragic, but ultimately hopeful window into a young woman with immense heart and talent, as she navigates unimaginable circumstances almost entirely alone.
A Fox Under a Pink Moon is a part of the 2026 Sydney Film Festival, running from 3-14 June. Tickets are on sale now at sff.org.au