How far would you go to get revenge on someone who you consider to have ruined your life? We often find ourselves in conversations about whether retribution is something that should be punished when it becomes violent, or if authorities should look the other way in situations where it can be justified. This is a conversation central to It Was Just an Accident (Persian: یک تصادف ساده), in which the brilliant Jafar Panahi returns with yet another masterful dissection of class, culture and social conventions. In this instance, we are introduced to Eghbal, albeit briefly – he’s a seemingly ordinary man raising his family in contemporary Tehran. However, after accidentally hitting a dog, his car is partially damaged, causing him to seek out repairs. It is here that he encounters Vahid, who suddenly recognises the man – not by his face or voice, but rather the squeaking of his prosthetic leg. He is convinced that this stranger is actually the officer who tortured him in a prison camp years before – and it doesn’t take long for him to leap at the opportunity to get revenge on the man who he genuinely considers to have changed the course of his life, for the worse. Gradually, he assembles a motley crew of eccentric personalities, each one of them being victims of a man they had never actually seen, but who they all come to agree is the likely source of their suffering. They scramble to come up with a plan to get their revenge, debating the morality of doing so in the process while holding their new companion hostage, none of them quite sure of the right course of action, but united in their desire to make him pay the consequences for his actions. A series of misadventures bundled together in this stark, shocking and bitingly funny indictment on a country that has descended far too deep into draconian measures that its citizens are consistently the victims, It Was Just an Accident is a brutal exploration of modern Iran, crafted by a director who understands how it feels to experience the full brunt of the government’s force, creating a film that skirts around the edges of decency while asking questions relating to morality and the challenges that come when existing in a society where it is a rare commodity.

While he has tackled several themes across both narrative and non-fiction works, Panahi is a director who always keeps his intentions quite clear and consistent – for most of his career, he’s been concerned with exploring the daily lives of the people living in post-revolution Iran, following their routines and interactions with the systems that keep them in place, often against their will. As the protégé of Abbas Kiarostami, he learned a lot about how society functions and how a filmmaker not only can record everyday life in vivid detail but also has the immense duty to do so in a way that is meaningful and challenging. This has always informed Panahi’s work, and while its perhaps not the most hard-hitting of his films (a title that we’d likely reserve for one of his documentaries like This Is Not a Film, in which his own experiences as someone consistently persecuted by the Iranian government are the direct focus), we do find that It Was Just an Accident is one of the strongest examples of his subversive commentary being seamlessly woven into a format that is genuinely quite provocative. It certainly is surprising that we are still discussing a subject like censorship now, since we would have expected this to be nothing more than a remnant of the past – but unfortunately, the suppression of artistic voices that dare to speak out against a regime that cannot bear any kind of criticism is not only ongoing, but even more intense than ever before. It is for this reason alone that we can find so much value in what Panahi is doing with It Was Just an Accident, a film that may be telling a fictional story, but has such firm roots within not only the director’s experiences, but those of countless others that came before him (and will likely come after him, considering how the government is continuing to persecute those who they view as disloyal or harmful, solely for expressing a different opinion), being their story as much as it is his. The concept of condensing the entire system into one individual who is ambushed by a group seeking revenge is not only entertaining as a concept, but profound as a metaphor, a quality that we find forms the foundation for this enthralling and daring work of socially-charged cinema.

Something we learn very early on when exploring Panahi’s work is that he’s a very economical filmmaker – his works are produced in less-than-ideal conditions, usually being filmed in secret and without the necessary paperwork (based on the knowledge that he’d be forbidden from following through on these projects if he sought out government approval), meaning that absolutely every decision needs to serve a purpose, if not multiple. We see this throughout It Was Just an Accident, which is a lean, straightforward film that takes on many different forms through the director’s skillful approach to layering in several elements, plucked from countless different sources of inspiration, which makes this film as much a stark social and political statement as it is a tribute to the genres and filmmakers that inspired Panahi over the years. Kiarostami is obviously a major influence, particularly in the moments where the film is quietly observing the lives of these characters – this is primarily in the earlier scenes, where it oscillates between perspectives and becomes quite effective in becoming a descriptive exploration of the underlying dynamics. It’s in these parts where we see a lot of comedy being woven into the narrative, with the blend of eccentric personalities intermingling with a series of escalating incidents that become more hilarious and outrageous the further they find themselves plunged into what they soon come to realise is an inescapable plan. Then as the film progresses, Panahi allows it to go to some even darker, more insidious places as we follow these people succumbing to their vengeful thoughts – what begins as an effort at transparent retribution eventually becomes a rabid, maniacal bloodlust in which their intrusive thoughts begin to take over, and they realise that they are only inches away from afflicting the kind of cruelty that they were subjected to previously. The act of the victim becoming the oppressor is brilliantly explored here, and Panahi moves deftly between tones, creating a film that simmers with a kind of complexity that can only be formed from a strong directorial vision and the willingness to engage with subjects that are certainly very challenging from the start.

There are many reasons why It Was Just an Accident works so exceptionally well, but part of it has to do with the way the film structures itself – it starts as a relatively simple story of a man seeking revenge in conjunction with a rogue’s gallery of colourful characters, who enter the film one-by-one in a manner that evokes the theatre of the absurd, but it eventually coalesces into a very unsettling fable that tackles the subject of revenge in a way that is disquieting without being too focused on the spectacle. Panahi relies on a strong cast of actors to bring these ideas to life, especially since his methods of making this film – mostly in secret, filming covertly and without attracting the attention of the authorities – placed a lot of emphasis on their performances to carry the film, with great work being done by Mariam Afshari, Hadis Pakbaten and Georges Hashemzadeh, all of whom deliver fantastic interpretations of challenging characters. It is a fantastic directorial achievement, but also a superb example of ensemble-based storytelling, which has become a seemingly lost art form in cinema. The anchor of the film is Vahid Mobasseri – he’s a bundle of energy, running the gamut of emotions in a way that is genuinely intriguing, going from outrageously funny to deeply sinister. This all makes sense in the context of the film, which places his character in increasingly tense, harrowing scenarios that grow in complexity the more we learn about the extent of the torture inflicted on him and his colleagues, all of whom are beautifully portrayed here by a cast of exceptional actors. Ebrahim Azizi proves to be a worthy adversary, also oscillating between pathetic and terrifying depending on the context of the scene. Panahi gives his actors an enormous amount of agency in how they craft these character – the cast is as responsible for carving this narrative as the director, and their ability to create such fascinating individuals that have their own distinct traits (some of which lead to unexpected sub-plots) but which all come together beautifully, is all part of the incredible strength of this film, which is a challenging and unorthodox work that uses its actors very well, sometimes in ways we may not expect but which only make it a richer and more intriguing experience.

Yet, what really ties It Was Just an Accident together and makes it such an impressive achievement is obviously Panahi’s direction – the writing is strong and the performances brilliant, but it’s only his impeccable approach to bringing these concepts to life that gives this film its unique energy. The film is exceptionally well-paced – it’s not particularly long (running a lean 100 minutes), but even with a relatively shorter running time, it moves at a rapid pace, never dwelling too long on a particular concept and instead focusing on getting to the next point within a reasonable time. This approach is quite rare in a cinematic landscape where excess can sometimes be mistaken for originality and celebrated without any real reason other than feeding into our concept of spectacle, and this is precisely why Panahi’s straightforward, unfurnished direction is so easy to appreciate. Simplicity is the key to the success of this film – it doesn’t reveal all of its answers at once (in fact, the central mystery of whether or not their hostage is the person they think he is – based on the fact that none of them had actually ever seen him – is only revealed towards the end), but instead allows them to emerge organically. The tone is also very important to the film – It Was Just an Accident is built from a basic premise that could have gone in several different directions, but chooses to combine them creatively, never resorting to heavy-handed techniques, but also not avoiding moments where he could be a bit more abstract in how he expresses these ideas. It’s an unexpectedly funny film – after all, the first act plays like The Three Stooge in some parts (and there are a couple of moments that made the entire audience howl in laughter, removing absolutely any illusion that this isn’t intentionally infused with pitch black humour), and this doesn’t only add some levity to the proceedings that break the tension, but also increase the terror present in the final moments, where we keep expecting some comedic reprieve that never arrives, situating us right in the heart of the existential dread that lingers throughout the film. It’s a harrowing film, but one that is expertly crafted to be far more enthralling than we may expect based on a cursory glance.

It Was Just an Accident is not an overly demanding film, despite seeming like some overly dense, complex political thriller. Panahi’s great gift is to address complicated ideas in a way that is accessible, interesting and (perhaps most importantly) extremely entertaining, being both informative and enjoyable in equal measure, which makes an enormous difference. He’s one of our greatest living filmmakers, and his ability to create something that feels so fresh and dynamic, refusing to rest on his laurels (mostly because he knows there is more urgency in delivering these messages than merely being self-indulgent) is precisely why he continues to fascinate and enthrall the global audience whenever he finds the time and resources to tell another story. A relatively simple film in theory, but one that earns every bit of our respect through its brilliant execution, It Was Just an Accident is a fantastic film – a daring, provocative blend of dark humour, psychological thriller and social commentary (all of which are woven together in a way that is staggering all on its own – the pure skill it took to bring these different ideas together so naturally is worthy of being studied in isolation, being a masterclass in genre and tone), with extraordinary performances from a fantastic ensemble that work closely with Panahi to create this fascinating, layered critique on censorship, political maneuvering and the unbearable weight of collective trauma. It comes very close to being a masterpiece (and will likely be proclaimed as one once the initial excitement has settled), and proves to be a wonderful opportunity to witness Panahi’s genius in practice, reminding us of his exceptional skills and tendency to see the uncomfortable, absurd truths that linger beneath the surface of a seemingly idyllic world.