The Truth Hurts in the Extraordinarily Powerful It Was Just an Accident

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Jafar Panahi’s latest film, *It Was Just an Accident*, recently won the top prize at the Cannes Film Festival and could signal a new direction for the acclaimed Iranian director. Since being imprisoned and banned from filmmaking in 2010, Panahi has cleverly created films *about* filmmaking, often starring himself, and shot them in secret to avoid authorities. These films, including *Closed Curtain*, *Taxi*, and *No Bears*, blend reality and fiction, reflecting the challenges of finding truth under Iran’s strict government. (You can read more about Panahi’s life and work in a new profile by Roxana Hadadi here.) While his filmmaking ban was lifted in 2022, Panahi still faced difficulties with *It Was Just an Accident*. Though it’s a traditional scripted drama – a return to his earlier style – it was filmed secretly and edited outside of Iran, meaning it likely won’t be shown there. However, Panahi hasn’t abandoned the themes he’s explored over the past decade: the difficulty of knowing what’s true and the struggle to act decisively in an uncertain world. *It Was Just an Accident* feels like a perfect combination of the filmmaker he once was and the filmmaker circumstances have forced him to become – a compelling and powerful film.

The film unfolds over a single day, beginning late at night when Rashid and his family are forced to stop at a roadside garage after accidentally hitting a dog. There, a mechanic named Vahid recognizes Rashid’s prosthetic leg and believes him to be Eqbal, the man who brutally tortured him in prison – a torturer known as “Peg Leg.” Suffering from ongoing health problems caused by the abuse, Vahid kidnaps Rashid, intending to bury him alive, but starts to question if he has the right man. He seeks help from another former prisoner, who leads him to Shiva, a photographer currently shooting a wedding for a fellow ex-detainee, Golrokh. Shiva then involves her ex-lover, Hamid, who may have suffered the most from Eqbal’s cruelty. Together, this group of traumatized former prisoners embarks on a journey to confirm the man’s identity as the infamous Peg Leg and decide what to do with him.

The survivors couldn’t identify Eqbal because he blindfolded them during the abuse. Yet, his presence remains vividly etched in their minds: Vahid is haunted by the sound of Eqbal’s walk, Hamid was forced to touch his injuries, Shiva suffered through mock executions, and Golrokh is only beginning to heal. This man shattered their lives, their relationships, and impacted those they loved – tragically, Vahid’s girlfriend took her own life while he was imprisoned. The potential for revenge, even against someone they aren’t entirely sure was their tormentor, becomes a deeply personal struggle for each of them. While they appear to be working together, their individual memories and desires are fractured by the uncertainty they face. Ultimately, the film explores how isolating the pursuit of a shared goal can sometimes be.

Jafar Panahi excels at using symbolism and deeper meaning without sacrificing compelling characters, believable situations, and genuine emotion. This is why his films connect with audiences worldwide, even though they are deeply rooted in Iranian culture. His storytelling feels natural; he doesn’t force symbolic moments. The group crammed into Vahid’s van – holding the drugged Rashid/Eqbal in a box – represents a diverse slice of society and the different motivations behind their desire for revenge. Importantly, these characters feel like real, fully developed people. Vahid, despite starting this risky plan, is clearly unsure and constantly seeks reassurance, leading us to wonder if he secretly hopes he’s mistaken. Shiva, much more composed and practical, has tried to move past her anger and avoids jumping to conclusions. In contrast, Hamid is reckless, violent, and seems ready to lash out at anyone. But the film is about more than just revenge. Everywhere this group goes, they encounter people asking for favors or bribes – from parking lot guards to hospital staff to strangers on the street. This highlights a cynical world where everything revolves around transactions and self-interest, far from any sense of spiritual fulfillment. This pervasive desperation intensifies the characters’ anxieties and makes the film even more unsettling for the viewer.

As the story unfolds from day to night, the characters grapple with questions of justice and forgiveness, but the film, *It Was Just an Accident*, remains grounded and real. It doesn’t feel like a detached philosophical exercise; instead, it feels natural, urgent, and even funny at times. We become so invested in the characters and their struggles that the film’s deeper ideas emerge subtly. Panahi consistently emphasizes the physical experience, which is fitting given the physical harm Eqbal inflicted. We truly *feel* what the characters are going through – Vahid’s pain, the reality of Rashid/Eqbal’s injury, even the claustrophobia and discomfort of the van. The film doesn’t shy away from harsh realities, showing moments of vulnerability and distress. This raw physicality is set against the uncertainty surrounding the mysterious man and what the others plan to do with him. This sense of doubt builds to a powerful and unsettling climax, which centers on a surprisingly simple, yet agonizing, moment: the characters’ shared recognition of their situation, a moment that feels almost miraculous.

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2025-10-17 19:56