Taxi Teherán

Acclaimed Iranian director Jafar Panahi drives a cab through the streets of Teheran. The changing passengers speak out openly what is on their mind. A female teacher and a young man discuss death penalty, a bootlegger offers the new season of "The Walking Dead" and some Woody Allen movies, two old women want to transport their goldfish in a glass bowl to a holy place, a young woman wants to transport her much older husband who has been injured in an accident, and a cheeky little girl explains the rules of Iranian filmmaking and her entitlement to a frappuccino.

A highly emotionally satisfying miniature. On the surface it feels small and funny, but underneath it is seething in anger and defiance at the Iranian government. One of the stuff that makes the movie so unusual is that it is so difficult to pinpoint whether everything is planned or caught in the spur of the moment. Especially the final scene which kept my mind wondering. I really like this a lot. More so when I found out about the sad state of affairs for Jafar Panahi. He is actually banned from making movies for 20 years because he was deemed to have crossed the "sordid realism" line drawn by the Iranian government. How he subtly pokes fun at the authorities is hilarious and yet warm. The whole 80+ min film feels like a window into another world, a world not unlike ours, especially when Eric Khoo's most recent film is deemed "unscreenable". One of the most important films I have seen this year. Now I feel like hunting down The White Balloon, Closed Curtains and This Is Not a Film.

This year's installment in delightfully subversive political guerrilla filming is brought to us by Jafar Panahi and his film, "Taxi". Mr. Panahi is an Iranian filmmaker who ran afoul of his government's strict rules concerning suitable filming subjects. As a result, he spent time in prison and under house arrest. Not to be daunted, he continued making films that skirted the government's definition. "Taxi" is his third such film and like the other two, had to be smuggled out of the country to be seen.

Panahi assumes the guise of a taxi driver (apparently a nod to fellow Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami's film, "Ten") and drives around a city, much like any other city, picking up various passengers throughout the day. There are moments of hilarity as Pahani deals with one situation after another, but underneath it all is a telling story of what life is like in Iran today, with particular attention to issues of censorship, state sanctioned brutality, women's rights, and of course, how this affects the arts and culture. It makes light of life in Iran and pokes fun at the powers that be, all the while recognizing that their actions have serious ramifications.

It is for the most part an engaging film, but given that it all takes place in a taxi and as such, is almost completely driven by dialog, it can drag a little. Still, for what it is, a piece of political theater, it is really excellent. If you get a chance to see it, I'd recommend it if for no other reason than to get a small feel for a country we, in the Western world, get to see so little of.

The genre of films made in or about taxis has already produced some masterpieces: „Taxi Lisboa" (1970) and „Night on Earth" (1991). Now Jafar Panahi, living in Tehran, has made a very important film that gives us Westerners a glimpse of what it is like to live in the Iranian capital nowadays. This is already his third movie that he made unlicensed and undercover. In 2010 he was imposed a 20 years' ban on producing films, is not allowed to leave the country and was put into prison. Iranian film-making is of two kinds, Panahi mused: local films for the public in Iran, heavily censored and films produced with the idea in mind to participate in international film festivals. He was awarded the Berlin Golden Bear this year. Viewing this film one feels really disconcerted by the director's taxi driving- and-filming stunt, his composed feature and the chaotic lives that passengers bring with them into the cab. Tehran has 12-15m inhabitants, with urban transport being chronically difficult. There are buses and taxis, but an underground system is still under construction. Taxis then are an obvious choice for the setting of an „under- ground" movie that discusses Iranian lives and hopes for a better future. The main theme of the film is how one can live in a society where strict laws are enforced about many things that seem to us unimportant or even trivial: A woman going to a basket ball game may be harassed and even arrested. It is the women characters then who make some very strong statements in the film. There is a lawyer and human rights activist, a friend of Panahi's, who was herself punished with a prison sentence, but pursues in her activities. Then the heroine of the film: supposedly Panahi's niece, a very bright school-girl who films street scenes and the director/taxi- driver/uncle with her i-Phone, is learning about film-making „that can be shown" in Iran, i.e. that would pass censorship. Life in a society that is strictly controlled by guards and police, laws that seem hard or impossible to be observed finds loopholes and the open question is how much Iran's government really is in control. But then of course the enforcement of laws may be random or imposed rather on the poorer levels of society.

Imagine, if you will, a world in which you may walk freely on the streets, but are hardly free at all. That's the world in which Iranian director Jafar Panahi lives, breathes and tries to work - one we're introduced to in gentle, tartly comic fashion in his latest film. Taxi, which won the Golden Bear at the 2015 Berlin International Film Festival, gives viewers a seductive, sobering glimpse into modern- day Iran, a country where criminals are executed for petty theft and women jailed for trying to attend a men's volleyball match.

The premise of Taxi is simple - Panahi himself, with cameras cleverly affixed throughout his vehicle, drives a taxi through the teeming streets of Iran. Throughout the day, Panahi the cabbie picks up strangers, friends and relatives, played by themselves or non- professional actors. Along the way, he makes idle conversation with them, or they chat amongst themselves - ordinary chatter that carries quite extraordinary import.

It's fascinating, thought-provoking stuff, delving deeply into ideas and questions about Iran and its politics while firmly couched in the language of the everyday. Two passengers launch into an impassioned discussion on the merits (or lack thereof) of capital punishment and syariah law. The broken body of a man is bundled into the backseat and, with what he thinks is his dying breath, he tries to circumvent laws that will prevent his sobbing wife from inheriting their home. Art and ideas are sold on the streets, the stuff of covert piracy, as the precocious Hana Saeidi, Panahi's young niece, relates to him the lessons she has learnt on how exactly to make films that will be 'screenable' in Iran.

To be honest, the final film is an amiable if somewhat rickety affair. Parts of it work better as metaphors, faltering somewhat in the execution. For instance, Hana is, literally and metaphorically, the future - both of Iran and, with her own little hand-held camera, filmmaking. But the moment when she tries to exert control over a scene she's shooting from the window of the taxi, haranguing a little boy to behave differently so that her footage will pass muster in school, feels a little too on-the-nose. In a couple of instances, it's easy to identify the issues Panahi wants to raise: in a bowl of fish or an iPad video, he finds insights about the power of superstition and the tragedy of poverty. But the scenes themselves don't always work as well, ambling when they should sprint.

Nevertheless, it's impossible to remain unmoved by the quiet power and heartbreaking passion of Taxi. This is a gem of a film: subtle, leisurely and surprisingly funny; thoughtful and deep but rarely overbearingly so. It's all the more impressive, of course, as a testament to Panahi's ongoing refusal to bend and break beneath the 20-year filmmaking ban that was slapped on him in December 2010. Since then, he's smuggled a film out of Iran on a flash drive baked into a cake, and assembled Taxi out of cam footage shot in broad daylight in Tehran. That's why, in ways both big and small, Taxi serves as a bold reminder of the bravery and strength of the human spirit.

Panahi was banned from making films for 20 years by the Iranian Government in 2010 but who then responded by making idiosyncratic 'films' with no actors and no end credits and then smuggling them out of the country.

In Tehran Taxi, Panahi masquerades as a taxi driver and picks up a range of curious passengers throughout Tehran; from a couple of old ladies nursing a goldfish in a bowl, a mugger, a flower seller and a traffic accident victim.

It's an unusual style, but one made familiar by dash-cams across the world and both the subject matter and style of interlocking stories reminded me of Jim Jarmush's 1991 film 'Night on Earth'.

Panahi isn't a comedian, but his style is lighthearted. The fact he is a film maker rather than a real taxi driver also means that he doesn't know many directions around the city and he further bemuses passengers when he refuses to take payment at the end of the ride. Equally though film paints an interesting picture of the everyday lives of the passengers and the buzz of the city going on on the streets of Tehran outside of the taxi's window.

Tehran Taxi is an excellent film. Sit back and enjoy the ride!