It Was Just an Accident Review

A Masterful Exploration of the Tension Between Seeking Justice and Exacting Revenge

By: Marc Kozak

It Was Just an Accident

A Masterful Exploration of the Tension Between Seeking Justice and Exacting Revenge

By: Marc Kozak

“He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster.” -- Nietzsche

Whenever we picture a group of rebels or revolutionaries battling against an oppressive regime, we instinctively regard any violence inflicted on the oppressors as justice. This seems even more true in asymmetric conflicts, where the oppressors have a vastly superior advantage in military power, technology, or resources. And as for us, the regular, unorganized citizenry, our chances for meaningful justice on a personal level are below infinitesimal. Who could blame the common man or woman, put down by an unstoppable system for so long, for fantasizing about revenge against a member of the ruling party should they somehow ever get the chance? We aren't killers -- they are -- and they deserve whatever ugly end is coming to them.

Iranian director Jafar Panahi has had more reason than most to think about these sorts of questions. He has made a career out of creating films that speak out against the injustices perpetrated by the Iranian government, which has led to his arrest on multiple occasions for unspecified "crimes against the regime" and a 20-year ban from making or directing any movies. He has spoken to numerous Iranians who have been detained and fortunately released, and he has survived his own spell in solitary confinement, with nothing more than sounds to help create a mental image of what his captors must be like.

It's these experiences that have directly influenced "It Was Just an Accident," Panahi's gripping exploration of the feelings of justice and revenge that swirl around in the minds of those attempting to carry on with their lives after a traumatic experience at the hands of an oppressor. Unlike Panahi's more covertly filmed, winking metafictional classics like "Taxi" and "This Is Not a Film," his latest work is a meticulously scripted drama, still made in secret to avoid government interference, but working in a more traditional filmic manner. It's perhaps Panahi's most accessible work to date, even as it still carries the same fire and urgency of his earlier grassroots efforts. It's no wonder it was the winner of the Palme d'Or at Cannes earlier in the year and is primed to be a serious awards contender even in the United States -- this is anti-authoritarian filmmaking at its very best.

" It's a gripping exploration of the feelings of justice and revenge that swirl around in the minds of those attempting to carry on with their lives after a traumatic experience at the hands of an oppressor "

The film begins with a man driving his happy family home at night, the mood suddenly turning when he accidentally runs over a dog. “God simply put it in our path for a reason,” the man says in an effort to soothe his upset daughter, ominously foreshadowing the events of the rest of the movie. The family pushes the damaged car to a nearby garage to ask for assistance, and we suddenly switch to the perspective of Vahid (Vahid Mobasseri), an auto mechanic who is inexplicably gripped with fear when the driver of the car enters the garage to make a call to arrange for his family to be picked up. Vahid ends up following the man for some time before suddenly knocking him out, throwing him in the trunk, and driving him out to the middle of the desert with the intent of burying him alive.

It's a hell of an exciting opening as we are kept in the dark as to why any of this is happening, our sympathies naturally resting with the kidnapped man in the trunk. Those sympathies start to waver when Vahid throws the man in an open grave and tells him he recognizes his voice and shuffling walk as that of Eghbal, his former torturer in an Iranian prison. The man denies this and begs for his life, causing Vahid to start to doubt his powers of recognition, especially since he was blindfolded when he was being tortured. This begins a frenzied second act where Vahid puts the man back in the trunk and drives around town to find other victims of Eghbal who might be able to more positively identify him.

The people he visits are mostly nonplussed to have to relive a dark chapter of their lives, much less get caught up in the possible mistaken kidnapping of an innocent man. Shiva (Mariam Afshari), a wedding photographer in the middle of a session with an engaged couple, can't quite confirm that the man is Eghbal, nor can the bride-to-be, who also happened to be a victim of the man. Reluctantly, Shiva suggests that her loose cannon ex-partner Hamid (Mohamad Ali Elyasmehr) would be able to help, but his frenzied desire for bloody revenge only escalates the situation, even as he is reasonably sure the man is Eghbal due to his unique peg leg -- surely it is too great of a coincidence that two men would have the same fake leg.

This entire sequence is often very funny, as our ragtag group gets assembled in a style similar to the way crews get put together in a heist movie. The difference is that these are just regular people, clearly not professionals of any kind, and they continue to make basic mistakes that will just make things worse for them if the man turns out to be someone other than Eghbal. It's also interesting to hear the different viewpoints of each character, clearly modeled off of the kinds of things Panahi picked up from fellow captives during his own prison stays. Some simply just don't want to think about it anymore, preferring to put all of that pain in the past and move on with their lives. Others, like Hamid, are driven into a frenzy by the mere thought of Eghbal, blinded by rage and the rabid desire for revenge, unable to think clearly or even consider the possibility that the man in the trunk may not even be the one who tortured them.

The third act becomes even more somber, as we start to hear the harrowing tales of what each character was made to live through during their time in prison. Golrokh, the engaged bride-to-be, recounts an absolutely horrific tale of her experience, a story that she clearly had not told her future groom before, changing the dynamic between them forever. At this point, we want nothing more than justice for these poor victims, but we're left to wonder what exactly that means in this situation. Our characters debate this as well -- does this situation justify violent revenge? Doesn't Eghbal certainly deserve it? Or would that simply make these victims no better than their torturer? Then again, if they let him go and he turns out to be Eghbal, wouldn't he come after them again with even more vigor? Or even if he isn't Eghbal, he would certainly be able to identify them due to their incompetence and send them back to prison. In that case, shouldn't they just dispose of him regardless?

The movie's power comes from the impossibility of these questions, combined with the heightened emotions that are sourced from the real-life experiences of people in Iran and in other countries with similarly oppressive ruling classes. You can feel Panahi angling for a more humane response (and the ending certainly suggest the same), but there is no doubt that there is a real human desire to enact an eye for an eye. It's a feeling that may cause a little queasiness in the viewer, as you almost can't help but start to rationalize the violence that the characters want to enact, even as you wonder how you yourself would react in a similar situation.

Panahi has expertly created a morality test with no easy answers, asking us to really sit with the concepts of forgiveness and revenge. The story's very construction is a trap; we know that neither option will ever truly calm the rage in our hearts. For Panahi, it was surely cathartic to show us the devil and the angel sitting on each one of his shoulders. For everyone else, which one we decide to listen to the most is up to us.