Bravery’s often overstated in discussions of filmmaking, which is a business as much as it is an artistic medium. However, that description is accurate when applied to It Was Just An Accident, the black comedic political thriller from Jafar Panahi, which won the Palme d’Or prize at the Cannes Film Festival. This is Panahi’s greatest film to date.
Panahi’s been a celebrated filmmaker internationally since his debut feature The White Balloon made a splash in 1995, but his commitment to the development of Iranian artistic expression has gone beyond the significance of any one title. Although he has been arrested, jailed, and banned from work several times by the current Iranian regime, Panahi has continued to make films that speak to the turbulent conditions of his home country; the 2011 documentary This Is Not A Film documented his experiences while under house arrest, and was smuggled out of Iran to compete in international film festivals. It Was Just An Accident was filmed in secret in secluded locations that wouldn’t be subjected to police searches. Despite funding from co-financiers in France and Luxemburg, It Was Just An Accident was still a dangerous venture for its cast; the film’s actresses broke laws of the Islamic Republic in the removal of their hijabs amidst filming.
The turbulence that It Was Just An Accident has combated since its inception made it unsurprising that Panahi has been greeted with such enthusiasm; the film’s willingness to contend with the lasting ramifications of military torture has made it particularly timely. However, Panahi’s as much an artist as he is an advocate, and It Was Just An Accident is prickly in the conclusions reached by its twisty narrative. With a morbid sense of absurdist humor and a creative use of its confined production locations, It Was Just An Accident is a bold work of anti-authoritarianism and a feverish slice of entertainment.
Even if it wasn’t for the stripped-down parameters of its shooting schedule, It Was Just An Accident is opened by a dizzying, voyeuristic shot of a family’s car ride that has more in common with the works of Hitchcock than it does with contemporary situational thrillers. The driver (Ebrahim Azizi) is only concerned about his car’s maintenance after a stray dog is accidentally killed, but his misfortune is compounded when he’s observed by the mechanic Vahid (Vahid Mobasseri). Vahid’s convinced that his new client is Eghbal, a man who tortured him while detained. Beyond the fact that Vahid has committed his abuser’s vocal intonations to memory, he’s grown obsessed with Eghbal’s unusual walking pattern, which earned him the nickname “peg name.”
Even when deprived of the connections to Panahi’s own experience in state prison, the question sparked by It Was Just An Accident is a universal one; if given the chance, is it worth taking revenge on a bully, abuser or enemy from the past? Vahid’s adamant that he’s entitled to justice given Eghbal’s war crimes, but his commitment to principles are a double-edged sword. In order for the damage to be equivalent, Vahid would have to subject Eghbal to the same brutal treatment he faced during his own imprisonment. Vahid isn’t an intrinsically violent person, and must have no doubts before any commitments to barbarity are made.
The spiraled direction of It’s Just An Accident is surprisingly humorous, given that Vahid is by no means an experienced agent of espionage. While he had the element of surprise on his side when Eghbal was first identified, his uncertainty has necessitated the involvement of others who earned the same trauma, including Shiva (Mariam Afshari) and her ex-lover Hamid (Mohamad Ali Elyasmehr). The bickering, slapdash approach that these three amateurs take to collect their evidence is at times hilarious; Panahi’s absurdist techniques point out the consequences that occur when a government and military don’t monitor themselves, and civilians are left to their own justice. However, every amusing mistake made by Vahid and his companions is undercut by the reason they’ve stepped outside their comfort zones. Those who’ve faced such cruel physical and psychological damage can only hold on to restoration as a means to heal, and they’re empowered by the moral soundness of their efforts.
The brilliance of It Was Just An Accident is that the true identity of Eghbal doesn’t change how horrific the situation is; torture’s only the beginning of a painful cycle, and the notion of Eghbal’s guilt doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable is it to endure. Vahid may have initially convinced himself that it’s cowardice that would prevent him from administering Eghbal’s punishment, but it's his hesitancy that’s most virtuous. Although Vahid does seem to recognize that his pain won’t be erased, the situation is made more frustrating by Eghbal’s denials, which suggest that his abuser has walked away with a clear conscience.
The futility of Vahid’s aspirations are made clear by the recognition that Eghbal has his own family, including a pregnant wife that could be denied treatment without the presence of her husband. Vahid’s dilemma is the identification of what has differentiated himself from Eghbal; if he left an innocent family to suffer the consequences of Eghbal’s absence, does that make their crimes similar? The recognition of humanity is the most disturbing aspect of It Was Just An Accident because of how non-committal it is to use the word “evil.” The suggestion that those that were “following orders” could return to their banal lives is more terrifying than the presence of a mustache-twirling boogeyman.