Max Blumenthal’s new film Uncaptured: 'Jews in the Islamic Republic of Iran' markets itself as a revelation about Jewish life inside Iran. As an Iranian Jew with family members who fled the Islamic Republic and friends still living under it, I recognize the film for what it truly is, state-sanctioned propaganda designed to launder the image of one of the world’s most repressive governments while exploiting a silenced, vulnerable minority.
Let’s be clear about some basic facts. No foreign journalist films freely inside Iran. Every interview and location must be cleared by the Culture and Islamic Guidance Ministry. Jews cannot speak candidly on camera; their statements are shaped by intimidation, not freedom. Calling this “authentic testimony” is far from journalism. It’s participation in censorship.
The Islamic Republic has long paraded its tiny Jewish community as “proof” of tolerance, while denying it true equality. Though Iran’s constitution grants token recognition to Jews, Christians, and Zoroastrians, they remain second-class citizens with limited political representation, exclusion from senior military and judicial roles, and separate legal restrictions.
Blumenthal ignores this context while presenting Iran as a model of coexistence.
He omits the clearest indicator of the truth: Before the 1979 revolution, Iran was home to 80,000 to 100,000 Jews. Today, fewer than 10,000 remain. Those who stayed did so because leaving was impossible, not because life was flourishing.
Arrested on charges of 'spying for Israel'
Their vulnerability is not theoretical. During and after the 12-Day War between Israel and Iran this summer, more than 700 people – including Jewish religious leaders – were arrested on charges of “spying for Israel.”
Even distant family ties to Israel can trigger interrogation. In a state where any perceived link to Israel is dangerous, no Iranian Jew can safely speak freely about Israel or Zionism.
Yet Blumenthal claims to have unearthed an “authentic brand of Judaism” free from Zionism. He takes the absence of pro-Israel sentiment, something no Iranian Jew could safely express, and treats it as a principled rejection rather than a survival strategy. He frames as conviction what is simply caution under an authoritarian state.
The pressure shaping Jewish life extends far beyond political speech. Portraits of Ayatollah Khomeini hang in synagogues, a compulsory display of devotion to the man who once declared Jews “impure.”
Jewish schools, businesses, and even holidays are politicized. In 2023, when Passover coincided with Iran’s annual anti-Israel “Quds Day,” Jewish leaders – under government directive – told their communities to postpone Seders and attend state rallies instead. No honest observer could mistake that for religious freedom.
The threat also extends to the courts. Uncaptured makes no mention of the regime’s November 2024 execution of Arvin Ghahremani, a 20-year-old Jewish man whose trial was widely denounced by rights groups, as well as his own lawyers, as fundamentally unjust.
At the time, the Biden administration raised concerns about due process. Ghahremani’s death was a chilling reminder that minorities in Iran receive judgment, not justice.
I have witnessed this climate of repression up close. Whenever I’ve posted on social media about Iranian Jews being harassed or arrested, their relatives inside Iran have begged me to delete the posts, terrified that public attention would endanger their loved ones. That fear, not the simplistic harmony shown on screen, is the defining feature of Jewish life in Iran.
None of this appears in Uncaptured.
Instead, Blumenthal and his co-director, Maria Mavati, a filmmaker within Iran’s state-approved industry, offer a carefully curated narrative that aligns with decades of regime messaging. What they claim is “uncensored” is, by definition, censored – and tailored to appeal to Western audiences hungry for contrarian “truths” that flatter their worldview.
This kind of misrepresentation fits a broader pattern of the Western whitewashing of Iran’s theocracy in the name of “anti-imperialism.” Organizations and commentators such as the National Iranian American Council (NIAC) and Trita Parsi of the Quincy Institute, and even Western media outlets, have repeatedly published glowing portrayals of Iranian Jews that clearly reflect official supervision. Blumenthal’s project is merely the latest and most brazen iteration of that playbook.
The human cost of this distortion is profound. My mother’s entire family, like tens of thousands of others, fled Iran after the revolution, leaving behind homes, businesses, and a 2,600-year history. Those who remain live in a gilded cage, navigating a system that punishes even perceived disloyalty. To portray their constrained existence as flourishing coexistence does not honor them; it puts them at even greater risk.
If Blumenthal were genuinely interested in truth, he would have spoken to Iranian Jews like activist Elham Yaghoubian, who fled persecution, or Hassan Sarbakhshian, the Muslim photojournalist exiled for documenting Jewish life.
But seeking those voices would have undermined the story he wanted to tell.
Instead, he presents a regime-approved version of reality and sells it as resistance. For Iranian Jews, this is a betrayal. And it’s personal. Watching our history repurposed as a PR device is its own form of erasure.
Iran’s Jews do not need Blumenthal to speak for them. They need the world to understand why they can’t speak for themselves.
The only authentic story of Jewish life in Iran is told in whispers, and at great personal risk. And the only honest response to Uncaptured is to recognize it for what it is: a glossy lie built on the silence of those who cannot safely contradict it.
The writer is an Iranian Jewish LGBT activist and writer based in Los Angeles. He is a digital producer at the Tel Aviv Institute and director of community engagement for Jews Indigenous to the Middle East and North Africa. Follow him on Instagram, X, and Substack: @matthewnouriel.