In present-day Tehran, a man named Amir makes a living by dealing drugs, choosing a solitary life that centers around his small apartment and the company of his loyal bulldog Mr. Fred. Each day, he returns from the town’s labyrinthine tunnel systems beneath the ring roads, carrying a bag that holds marijuana, hashish, and opium. Back at home, he carefully sorts the drugs and bakes two trays of hash cookies, turning his routine into a ritual of distribution and relief.
When night falls, Amir climbs into his car and begins his rounds, guided by the steady, almost musical voice of his GPS. The device not only navigates the streets but also steers him away from danger, warning him about roadblocks, speed traps, and other threats that flicker through Tehran’s darkened lanes. This nocturnal journey is more than a simple delivery run; it’s a quiet treadmill of human contact, where each customer represents a different need, a different story.
Among the people who crave his offerings are seemingly lost young men lingering by the roadside, hoping for a moment of escape. There is also a young yoga teacher who works with children, seeking calm and relief in a city that never fully slows down. An old palliative care patient in a hospital becomes part of his widening circle, as Amir and a nurse themselves distribute a dose of comfort—hash cookies—into someone whose days are numbered. The drug-sweetened acts ripple outward, touching various lives in small, sometimes dangerous ways.
Amir does not stop there. He shares his wares with prostitutes, including a trans man, offering a gratis lifeline amid the shadows. He even tries to help a widow by prescribing a mixture of pills and opium tea to save her son from the grip of addiction. The web of transactions grows more tangled as he receives drugs and beer from an Iranian flight attendant traveling from Amsterdam, exchanging opium for a fleeting alliance. The two of them share a moment of intimacy as they snort cocaine together, their bond forged in shared risk and the moonlit hush of hotel corridors and transit lounges.
As Amir navigates this precarious world, the pressure tightens. Unnamed assailants begin to close in, and a tense car chase erupts, pushing Amir’s carefully balanced life toward a cliff’s edge. The pursuit underscores a simple, unsettling truth: in a city where every street holds a memory, the relief Amir provides carries a price—and the line between savior and target can blur in an instant.
This portrait of Amir’s nights blends gritty realism with a meditation on what it means to offer relief in a world that often privatizes pain. The GPS’s guiding voice, the hum of the city at 2 a.m., the fragrance of hash cookies lingering in the air—these details cohere into a striking, patient narrative about dependency, vulnerability, and the delicate line between care and harm. Through Amir’s eyes, the film observes a society where desire, desperation, and dubious benevolence intersect, creating a mosaic of nocturnal Tehran that feels lived-in, unflinching, and unexpectedly human. > "like a modern prophet."
