'It Was Just an Accident' Cannes review: Jafar Panahi's latest is a suspenseful political drama

Deccan Herald

16 hours ago

Jafar Panahi's 'It Was Just an Accident' emerged as the most politically urgent and emotionally devastating entry, earning the veteran Iranian filmmaker the prestigious Palme d'Or award at the Cannes Film Festival this year. Yet, the film's resonance goes far beyond awards. It is both a powerful work of cinematic art and a defiant act of resistance — crafted in secrecy, brimming with moral complexity, and deeply rooted in the personal and political trauma of Iran's recent history.The film opens with a mundane incident that quickly spirals into a moral crucible. A family — husband Eghbal (Ebrahim Azizi), his pregnant wife, and their daughter — accidentally hit a dog on a dark road. Their car breaks down, and they take refuge at a garage where the attendant, Vahid (Vahid Mobasseri), hears the creak of Eghbal's prosthetic leg. The sound triggers Vahid's memory of being tortured in prison; he is convinced this man is "Peg-leg," the interrogator who brutalised him and others under the Iranian regime. Driven by a thirst for vengeance, Vahid abducts Eghbal and prepares to bury him alive. But doubt soon emerges — is this truly the man who tormented him? .What follows is a suspenseful, often darkly comic odyssey that unfolds over the course of a single day. Vahid assembles a group of fellow victims — Shiva, a photographer; Goli and Ali, a couple interrupted mid-wedding shoot; and Hamid, a volatile former detainee — to verify Eghbal's identity. Each character brings their trauma and perspective, and their debates — whether driven by rage, resignation, or uncertainty — form the moral backbone of the film.The brilliance of Panahi's script lies in its refusal to offer clarity. We, like the characters, are blindfolded — uncertain of the truth, forced to wrestle with our assumptions and sympathies. Is Eghbal the perpetrator? And if he is, does vengeance restore justice — or simply perpetuate the cycle of violence? .Thematically, 'It Was Just an Accident' echoes Panahi's own life. Since 2010, he has faced imprisonment, house arrest, and a ban on filmmaking imposed by the Iranian government. Yet, he has continued to make films in secret, turning limitations into artistic innovation. The film is imbued with the urgency and emotional charge of someone who has suffered but remains defiant. .While rooted in Iran's political reality, the film transcends its immediate context. Panahi's film confronts the impossibility of closure for survivors of state violence. The blindfold motif — used both literally and symbolically — underscores how justice is often obscured, reliant on memory, interpretation, and pain.Importantly, 'It Was Just an Accident' is not merely a grim reckoning. Panahi interweaves moments of absurdity and dark humour: a bride in full gown pushing a van, debates over bribe payments made via contactless card readers, and exasperated arguments about the cost of vengeance. These comic detours do not undercut the film's gravity; instead, they humanise the characters and reveal the surreal logic of life under authoritarian rule. The long extended standing ovation Panahi received at the festival after the film's stunning conclusion, was considered by many as less like applause and more like solidarity. The jury's decision to award him the Palme d'Or was not only an artistic endorsement but also a symbolic act — recognising the risks he took, the message he delivered, and the bravery of creating such a film under oppressive conditions. .The final scenes, marked by a long static take and a crescendo of emotional unraveling, are unforgettable, but could have been avoided in terms of aesthetic principles of keeping open the dilemmas of human situation. Though they encapsulate the fragility of truth, the brutality of memory, and the ambiguity of justice, confirming the identity of the perpetrator and his rather lame confessions could appear prosaic. But that doesn't lessen the final impact of the film. Rather than offering resolution, Panahi leaves us with questions —about ourselves, about systems of power, and about how pain lingers across generations.It is a film of political resistance, moral inquiry, and cinematic excellence. It reminds us that cinema, even when made in defiance of tyranny, can illuminate, challenge, and change the world — or at the very least, its viewers.