Because of the ways he’s displeased his government with his outspoken criticisms, Iranian director Jafar Panahi has spent considerable time imprisoned or under house arrest, at one point even engaging in a hunger strike. He’s also at times been expressly forbidden from making films – a mandate that led to the production of the 2011 film with the cheeky title This is Not a Film. The resulting creative period has led to some fascinating experiments that blended narrative and documentary filmmaking, which, to be fair, has been a hallmark of Iranian cinema since its beginnings. But it may not have always led to something with lasting profundity or impact, the way a narrative film unencumbered by censorship can do.

Which is why Panahi’s most affecting film in years is It Was Just an Accident, recently a nominee for best international film at the Academy Awards. This film, a co-production with France and Luxembourg, did not have the official permission of the Iranian government either, but at least it occurred during a period when Panahi was not formally banned from making films. Although Panahi has recently been sentenced to jail by his government again, the film skirts direct criticism of Iran, opting to examine the human desire for revenge within a political context common under a ruling regime such as the current one.

The film opens with a man (Ebrahim Azizi) and his wife and young daughter driving along a darkened road, where they accidentally hit and kill a dog, causing enough damage to their vehicle to require repairs before they can continue the drive home. The mechanic Vahid (Vahid Mobasseri), an ethnic Azerbaijani, believes he recognises the man, who has a prosthetic leg, by the sound the leg makes as it crosses the concrete. Vahid believes this man, who they called Eghbal (“Peg leg”), was among the men who tortured him and other political prisoners some years earlier. He doesn’t let on and prevents the man from getting a good look at him during the rest of the interaction, but the next day he follows the man and kidnaps him, intending to bury him in the desert.

The thing is, the man professes his innocence so convincingly and with such pathos that Vahid can no longer be sure he’s gotten the right man. They were blindfolded, after all. Driving the bound and gagged man around in his truck, Vahid meets with a variety of fellow former prisoners, some of whom join him in the truck, to try to get verification that this is, indeed, the man who ruined their lives. The verdict is split, and other complicating factors arise over the course of the day. The prospect of their revenge begins losing its lustre as they are forced to look themselves in the mirror and decide if they want to descend to the level of their former captors.

Although certainly it’s poking the bear to talk about Iranians torturing political prisoners, Panahi’s purpose in making this film is not to look at a specific era in his country’s history and the human rights violations that occurred during that time. Instead, he’s interested in the cycle of revenge that originates from any violation of one person by another, no matter what form it takes. And this is a profound document in that regard.

As Vahid is connected with a network of fellow prisoners, some he knew and some he didn’t, we see that they all have an unquenchable thirst to punish the man they believe took something away from them they could never get back. However, even the notion that these people were permanently broken from their time in prison is something Panahi views with an askance eye. For one couple who join him as part of the group collectively deciding on the man’s fate, Vahid encounters them when they are posing for pictures for their wedding. The mere fact that they seem whole, and headed toward their best life, suggests that maybe this revenge is something that should no longer be at the forefront of their thoughts.

And yet society at large is built on the notion of getting even with those who have wronged you. Certainly this underpins any sort of criminal enterprise, but it goes way beyond that to average people and to people who were victims of such a criminal enterprise, perhaps especially if that criminal enterprise is a government.

This is Just an Accident takes a serious look at what it takes to break this cycle of revenge, but it has no easy answers. It also complicates the path to getting there with lighter moments that even play as comedy. Before they’ve decided whether they have the right man or not, the former prisoners must make a decision regarding a surprise occurrence with the man’s family. Without spoiling what that occurrence is, it calls on their basic human decency to come forward – whether or not they have the right man.

A profound sense of philosophical weight builds over the course of this day, some as a direct result of their debate in the dialogue, some prompted indirectly by the debate as it continues on in the viewer’s head. Without going into the exact shape of its conclusions, let’s just say that This is Just an Accident ends on a note that might either be one of Panahi’s most optimistic endings, or one of his ominous ones, depending on your reading of a memorable final sequence. However you read that sequence, though, the one constant is clear: poltical imprisonment creates lasting trauma, whether you are an average citizen or an acclaimed member of the artistic community.

 

It Was Just an Accident is currently playing in Australian cinemas.