Nodjoumi family archive photo. Still from the documentary. (Courtesy: HBO Documentaries).

Art reflects truth, sometimes to the detriment of the artist. This was Nickzad “Nicky” Nodjoumi’s experience. The fine artist’s bold depictions of his native Iran resulted in severe repercussions for him from not just one but two different regimes in that country. Now, at 81, Nicky is the central subject of “A Revolution on Canvas,” the documentary work of his filmmaker daughter Sara Nodjoumi and her husband, Till Schauder, which premiered on HBO’s MAX on March 5.

“A Revolution on Canvas” is not an artist’s portrait or a family-created hagiography. Instead, the film is a combination of an art heist and a hero’s quest narratives. The art heist is of Nicky’s paintings from a 1980 exhibition at Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art in Iran’s capital city. The hero’s quest is the retrieval of these controversial pieces, which have been locked up in the museum’s basement for over four decades. The latter endeavor  is not so much Nicky’s quest but that of his daughter Sara.

“That exhibition is something I have heard about all the time,” Sara says from her home in New York, one week before the film’s HBO premiere. “It looms large in Nicky’s life. Every time he meets someone new, he tells them the exhibition’s story.”

“Once we had the art heist in place, we had a narrative spine we could work with,” says Till, “We could dare to go places that would have, frankly, been harder to go to otherwise. All this emotion pent up in Sara and Nicky’s family would be released. None of it was mapped out. It was a very organic process.”

There are intertwined storylines in “A Revolution on Canvas.” On a macro level, it explores Iran’s trajectory since the 1950s, during the reign of the Shah, throughout the extreme fundamentalist change to a theocracy in 1979, which continues with clerics at its helm to this day. Chilling archival footage from both eras provides a detailed context for Nicky’s experiences as an artist, a radical, an activist, and a young man in love. On a micro level, the film focuses on Nicky’s personal life, his relationship with Nahid Hagigat, a huge artistic talent in her own right, and Sara.

“When we set out, I did not want to bring out the trauma in the family,” says Sara. “But as we got more and more into it, Till said, ‘You’re going to need to go there for this to be impactful.'”

The film’s narrative arc has several intertwined timelines. In addition to the jarring sourced archival footage that puts the viewer in the middle of the events portrayed, Nicky’s and Nahid’s immense photo collection is also included. These images capture many moments of their youth and Sara’s young life in a marked and visceral way. Perhaps most compelling are the two artists’ paintings and etchings, which convey political upheavals, people’s societal struggles, and their internal conflicts. These mirror those of so many individuals, whether or not they had these same experiences. It’s these artworks of Nicky’s that exposed the truth of what was happening in Iran, which made the clerics take them down and hide them away for the last 44 years.

“I have to give my parents credit for standing back,” says Sara of the narrative choices in the film. “Especially my dad, who said, ‘If I see the film and I have comments, are you going to make changes?’ And we were like, ‘Probably not.’ He backed off and said, ‘I’m going to watch it at Tribeca when it premieres.’ That was shocking to us and incredibly stressful.”

“To be honest, in my mind, Nahid steals the show, which is a good thing,” says Till. “I’m so happy many people pick up on that because behind every great man is an even greater woman.”

Yet, it’s not so much Nicky or even Nahid, as it is Sara who is the heart of “A Revolution on Canvas.” The most poignant moments in the film are her conversations with her father, which take place while he paints. Her involuntary reactions to his sometimes hurtful but not malicious utterances, the dredging up of painful family history with her mother, and the dogged determination with which she pursues her father’s long-lost art stir compassion, making the film universally relatable.

“Nicky’s story informs the art so much; it’s a reciprocal relationship between the two,” says Till. “He was incredibly gracious in letting us tell his story this way. I have always loved the guy so much, but I love him even more now after the film, even after learning what people would consider shit about him. Often, with films that go into these kinds of areas, somebody comes out of it damaged. Nobody comes out damaged here. Outside of their artistic merits, Nicky, Nahid, and Sara are the people you want to see in a documentary because they’re genuine.”

After going through the trauma of having difficult conversations with her parents and butting heads with the unpredictable Islamic Republic of Iran, Sara isn’t sure that the making of A Revolution on Canvas was entirely healing for her, at least not yet.

“In some ways, my father and I are closer because we let this movie happen, and we’re okay,” says Sara. “Before the premiere, I was really worked up. I was a mess. I was screaming at Till a lot. Now that it’s about to premiere on HBO, I’m a little bit of a mess again. Ultimately, it’s healing, but I’m not 100% there yet. Maybe in a year, I’ll be like, ‘Ah, this was very healing.'”