The Director Who Won't Stop Filming

A filmmaker banned from making movies for 20 years just earned two Oscar nominations. Jafar Panahi's latest film, "It Was Just an Accident," was shot entirely in secret on the streets of Tehran. Yet despite facing a one-year prison sentence, he insists he'll return to Iran once awards season ends.

A Kidnapping Comedy That's No Joke

Panahi's film follows four former political prisoners driving around Tehran in a white van, debating what to do with the man they've kidnapped—someone they believe was their torturer. One woman wears a wedding dress throughout; one man stays perpetually agitated. It sounds like a dark comedy, and often is.

But beneath the banter lies Iran's deepest wound: the question of whether to forgive or seek revenge against those who inflicted unimaginable suffering.

The film was shot with extreme secrecy—limited takes, natural lighting, and carefully chosen locations to evade authorities. Nearly one-third of the movie takes place inside that van, a necessity born of surveillance, not artistic choice.

"Usually, these types of films are made after the fall of a regime," Panahi explained through an interpreter. "But I wanted to make this film now because I wanted the audience to think about the future and prepare for what's coming."

While He Tours, His Collaborators Disappear

As Panahi promotes his Oscar-nominated film, Iran's crackdown has intensified. Recent protests have killed an estimated tens of thousands, with the government now arresting even moderate voices. Nobel Peace Prize winner Narges Mohammadi received a 17-year sentence.

Panahi's co-writer Mehdi Mahmoudian was recently arrested. "I sent him a message around 3:30 a.m. Paris time, and it wasn't seen or delivered," Panahi recalled. "I waited until noon the next day, and it still wasn't seen. That's when I became suspicious."

Mahmoudian is now held in a 17-by-17-meter cell with 30 other prisoners—not political dissidents, but drug traffickers and murderers. The deliberate mixing is part of the psychological torture.

An Iranian's Warning to America

Visiting the U.S. for the first time in 20 years, Panahi made an unsettling observation. "The atmosphere here is also very different than what I had seen before. Sometimes I see signs that things are becoming very difficult here too."

When American protesters were killed by federal agents, Panahi saw familiar patterns. "The killing of even one person anywhere in the world is too much. As soon as this happens, you can be sure there's a problem. That problem will grow, and one day, it will reach tens of thousands."

Coming from someone who has witnessed Iran's descent, this felt less like commentary than prophecy. "Because we have seen and experienced these signs, we know exactly what's coming at the end."

The Cell Phone Revolution

Panahi has managed to keep making films despite his 20-year ban through technological advancement and creative interpretation. "When they told me I couldn't make a film, my friend and I started making a film in my home, and we said, 'This is not a film.'"

His acclaimed "Taxi" was shot with a hidden camera in an actual taxi, capturing real passengers' stories. "With all the technological advances, you could even make a film on a cellphone camera," he noted, offering hope to young filmmakers facing similar restrictions.

The Footsteps at the End

Panahi deliberately removed humor from his film's final 20 minutes. "I wanted the audience to hold its breath and think about the film."

The movie's enigmatic ending features approaching footsteps that initially suggest the torturer has come to arrest the protagonist. But then the sounds fade away. "The fact that the interrogator might have been moved, as little as it might be, is that point of hope that the cycle of violence could end."

He insisted on showing the torturer's humanity. "These people may be very different in their family settings. Their family members may not even know who they are or what kind of work they do. The problem is not with the individual—it's with the system."

The Choice to Return

Despite facing imprisonment, Panahi remains committed to returning to Iran. "I could come to the U.S. and make a commercial film that could make a lot of money. But when it's me and myself in my solitude, I would ask if I'm embarrassed by making that film."

He's made peace with his choices. "I can easily say that, in my own solitude, I have not been regretting any of the films I have made."