After endless years of fierce struggle against the Iranian government because of what his films show and say about Iran, award-winning director Jafar Panahi was arrested in 2010 and then charged with conspiring to create anti- Islamic propaganda. He was sentenced to six years in jail and a 20-year-ban on making cinema in any regard, giving interviews or leaving the country. However, while awaiting the result of an appeal, under house arrest and defying the prohibition, Panahi has already made three films.
First came This Is Not a Film (2011), a thought-provoking video diary shot on a mobile-phone camera that turned censorship into art and was smuggled in a flash drive inside a cake from Iran to the Cannes Film Festival, where Panahi won the Carrosse d’Or. Then came Closed Curtain (2013), an angry blow for creative freedom and a wise mediation on fiction versus reality, which won the Silver Bear for Best Script at Berlin. And now it’s the turn of Taxi, a very clever move against Iranian censorship, an inspired take on the art of filmmaking, and the proud winner of the Golden Bear at this year’s Berlinale.
You could say that Taxi portrays a simple day with a cab driver in Tehran. But the driver is no less than Panahi himself, supposedly disguised as a regular cabbie. He’s cleverly affixed many cameras inside the vehicle, the main one mounted on the dashboard, as he drives through the hot city streets. As the day goes by, this peculiar cabbie picks up different passengers: some of them seem to be strangers who instantly turn into non-professional actors, whiles others appear to be friends and relatives playing versions of themselves. Or perhaps the strangers play versions of themselves too and the friends and relatives play scripted characters. Or maybe there are some low-key professional actors too.
Likewise, what they say many times sounds unscripted because of its spontaneity and naturality. Yet other times it sounds too to the point, that is to say written to be spoken — even if colloquially. In any case, you can never be that sure for once again Panahi masterfully toys with the boundary between what’s real and what’s not, between making a documentary and a fiction film, between reality and fiction at large. And once again he’s made one riveting movie that blends both realms seamlessly.
Driving across Tehran as he tries to find his way around (he’s not what you’d call an experienced cabbie), Panahi talks about this and that with his passengers and other times they just talk among themselves. Yet soon small talk gives way to more relevant affairs. That is to say, Panahi cleverly engages his passengers into conversations about the issues he explored in previous movies for which he’s been convicted. But he’s not the one who does the talking, the passengers are.
A man and a woman argue about the death penalty and political prisoners as the name of Ghoncheh Ghavami, the woman imprisoned for attending a volleyball game, comes up in a fiery conversation. Then a motorcycle accident victim is brought into the car by his weeping wife, and he has his last will filmed with a smart-phone so that his wife inherits his properties and won’t become an indigent in case he dies. Both segments are highly accomplished in dramatic terms.
Video is brought to the fore again when an old friend of Panahi’s shows him a security video where a crime committed against him was recorded — and here comes a selfless intervention on the meaning of theft considering the context, which comes full circle at the brilliant ending of the film. Each tiny story in Taxi could account for a separate movie and so each hints with subtle and not so subtle references to previous works, be it The Circle, Crimson Gold, The White Balloon, Offside, or The Mirror. And this is when you feel like watching these movies all over again.
The most elaborate and eloquent tale is that of Panahi’s niece Hana school project. A witty, talky and belligerent girl, Hana has to make a short film following some very specific guidelines that handed out by the teacher. Of course, such guidelines are nothing but mirrors of the government’s censorship rules. Yet she must make her movie no matter what and doesn’t want to flunk, so her uncle can’t help her. I mean, most of his films get banned. It’s best to not disclose here how she gets it done, so suffice to say that this is when a film within a film comes into being and distorting reality becomes an everyday exercise.
With a reflexive tone and a mordant sense of humour, a relaxed attitude and a playful tone, but also with moments of despair, outrage and grief, Taxi is the kind of film bound to become an instant classic. Not only because of its astute and furious fight against censorship or its shrewd political and social commentary — though that alone would be more than enough — but also because its deceptively simple structure does actually contain many layers that speak of uncanny cinematic artistry. In this day and age of too many vacuous movies, that’s to be celebrated big time
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Production notes
Taxi. Iran, 2015. Written and directed by: Jafar Panahi. Cinematography, editing and sound: Jafar Panahi. Produced by Jafar Panahi Film Productions. Distributed by: CDI Films. Running time: 82 minutes. General release.
