‘It Was Just an Accident’ Review: Iranian Director Jafar Panahi’s Done Being Discreet, Launching an Open Warning to His Oppressors

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Pay attention: Jafar Panahi has significantly shifted his filmmaking style, moving from a subtle humanist approach (as seen in movies like “The White Balloon” and “Offside”) to openly criticizing the Iranian government, as demonstrated in his recent political thriller, “It Was Just an Accident.” The most intriguing aspect of this transformation is that Panahi might not have become so outspoken against his oppressors if the system hadn’t attempted to suppress him so forcefully. He has been arrested several times for alleged “propaganda” and imprisoned on two occasions (released only after he went on a hunger strike). Despite these hardships, Panahi continues to create art, emerging with renewed passion and a determination to resist.

In “It Was Just an Accident,” the five characters resemble a group of diamond thieves from “Reservoir Dogs” after their heist, gathering to accuse and mete out justice. This might seem unusual (for a drama that’s slow-paced, filled with long drives and a visit to the maternity ward), but their darkly humorous mission shares elements of Samuel Beckett’s absurdism and one of Tarantino’s intense revenge stories. Despite never having seen him personally, each character swears they could recognize the self-righteous, one-legged prosecutor who tormented them in prison.

Vahid Mobasseri is often blindfolded during beatings, but he recognizes Peg Leg’s unique stride in the auto garage where he works. Shiva, Maryam Afshari, can sense when “the Gimp” is near by his distinctive odor; he always seemed to sweat heavily. On the other hand, Hamid, Mohamad Ali Elyasmehr, claims it’s the man’s voice that triggers memories of his troubling past, where he was interrogated and threatened, left with a noose around his neck for extended periods.

As I ponder over the intriguing plot unfolding on screen, I can’t help but wonder if these survivors, despite their inability to visually identify the man in Vahid’s trunk, could collectively determine his true identity as Eqbal, their mutual adversary. The film’s opening act, a whirlwind of disorientation, introduces us to Eghbal (Ebrahim Azizi), a bearded man driving home with his family. His wife and daughter are jubilant, dancing to the radio’s tunes, oblivious to the fact that a seemingly insignificant car accident involving a stray dog would set their lives on an entirely different course. “God must have led us to this for a purpose,” his wife muses, unaware of the profound impact this seemingly minor incident would have on their lives.

In the conventional storytelling approach, we’re expected to feel sympathy towards the family who are initially presented as respectable Iranian citizens, despite their seemingly harsh actions like striking a dog. The filmmaker Panahi introduces another character, Vahid, at a garage setting, but doesn’t attempt to influence our feelings towards him. Instead, he appears messy and timid, hiding in the building much like a scared child. However, it’s clear that something has upset Vahid about Eghbal, and his true intentions become clearer the following day when he tracks and eventually kidnaps this mysterious individual.

Instead of digging a grave for Eghbal, Vahid is preparing to bury him in a vast, barren desert landscape, sparsely dotted with a tree reminiscent of a prop from “Waiting for Godot”. However, his captive’s sudden panic creates enough uncertainty for Vahid to search for other witnesses. Salar, a friend, steps in and says, “There’s no need to dig their graves. They’ve done that for themselves.” This statement seems to reflect a conversation or inner debate that Panahi’s character is having within the film.

Currently, the number of people suffering under the Iranian government exceeds those in power, whose harsh actions unintentionally foster the resistance they aim to quell. When things finally reach a critical point (which they inevitably will), Panahi ponders whether the citizens’ response should match the cruelty inflicted upon them, or if they should show compassion. He wonders how close we are to revolution. It’s significant that Panahi is no longer indirectly criticizing certain policies (as “The Circle” did by addressing gender inequality and “This Is Not a Film” by challenging restrictions on personal expression), but rather, he openly warns his rulers of retaliation.

As a movie critic, I find myself drawn to the captivating work of Iranian filmmaker, Asghar Farhadi’s contemporary, Jafar Panahi. Remarkably, despite the limitations imposed on him, such as working with non-professional actors and confining much of his low-budget production within a white van or its confines, Panahi manages to create an immersive cinematic experience. The characters in “Three Faces” are played by individuals outside the conventional acting sphere, while Vahid’s van serves as a versatile stage for many of the scenes. Interestingly, the bride (Hadis Pakbaten) and groom (Majid Panahi, the director’s nephew) from a recent photoshoot are also part of this intriguing narrative, further blurring the line between reality and fiction.

The movie’s narrative is undeniably distressing, filled with simmering fury, yet it doesn’t rush its unfolding. The director’s anger might be expected, but viewers might be taken aback by the humor, such as a scene where the couple, in their wedding attire, push a van. As the enraged bride-to-be addresses her intended partner, she says, “It all began before you, and it needs to end someday.” This film serves as a stark warning, likely stirring new waves of controversy for Panahi.

The movie “It Was Just an Accident” shares similarities with post-WW2 dramas where victims confront their tormentors, but its chilling final scene seems to urge viewers into action. Throughout much of the film, it’s uncertain if Vahid and his group have captured the right one-legged man, yet this ambiguity is almost irrelevant. The movie underscores how those who suffered mistreatment – whether for protesting unjust working conditions or dressing immodestly in public – are now bound together by their shared experiences. Remarkably, the characters’ backstories were based on stories Panahi heard while imprisoned, implying that he couldn’t have written this film without encountering fellow victims behind bars. Consequently, if authorities continue to target Panahi, he won’t be working alone.

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2025-05-20 18:47