Ceci n'est pas un film

This Is Not A Film comes to audiences already with a high level of notoriety. The famous film behind "cakegate", it's constricted production meant that the film was distributed out of Iran on a USB stick concealed inside a birthday cake. It's the kind of screwball scenario you might find on a Judd Apatow movie, but This Is Not A Film is no laughing matter. As the title would assume, this is not so much of a film as it is a film exorcism.

Whilst under house arrest, and pursuing an appeal against a six year prison sentence and 20 year ban from directing, esteemed Iranian auteur Jafar Panahi (The Mirror, Crimson Gold) invites fellow filmmaker Mojtaba Mirtahmasb into his home to crudely document a day in his tormented life.

Shot on a digicam and later an iPhone, we follow Panahi shuffling around his apartment, feeding his daughter's pet iguana, paying the delivery boy for takeaway food, and calling his tenacious attorney trying to get him out of house arrest. At first, it's a minor study of segregation and loneliness, but This Is Not a Film is at it's most enthralling when Panahi expresses his natural directing flare; acting out his latest screenplay from the (dis)comfort of his family living room, discussing camera angles to the most minute detail, and reflecting on how he managed to reach such a raw level of intimacy in his previous works. Whether you are aware of his filmography or not, it's clear that Panahi is an exuberant cinephile, which makes his current, and ongoing battles with the government even more distressing.

If you were forced to judge this meta-commentary diatribe, one could suggest that Panahi and Mirtahmasb fail to present a bigger picture on the crisis of the state's dominance over artistic intent. Similarly to 2006′s female equality drama Offside, This is Not a Film is incredibly subtle with it's political allegories, bordering on the coyly parabolic. Instead of presenting a bigger, ultimately more controversial picture on the crisis of state dominance in the creative industries, Panahi and Mirtahmasb reach a palpable level of verisimilitude in the very smallness of the situation. It all comes together in a final twenty minute sequence where Panahi falls behind the camera and back into storyteller mode (it could cost him his life, but he can't help it). He follows a young dustman around the apartment block and asking him what his plans for the future will be. The cordial apprentice is unsure, but it's hopefully going to be a life less frightening than the one Panahi has been dealt.

This Is Not A Film concludes with harrowing sentiment. With the sound of New Years' Eve fireworks and cheering in the background, the screen fades to black, with the credits and special thanks nods are left blank, followed by a final frame that sets out a humble dedication to all Iranian filmmakers. It may be a non-film but, whatever it is, it's certainly a riveting watch; and has rightly earned a place in the Oscars' documentary award shortlist.

Here in the Western world, our access to information, democratic governments and human rights mean that cinema is taken for granted, and filmmakers have it easy. Whilst we bemoan the extortionate prices of popcorn, Panahi and Mirtahmasb are putting their lives on the line to tell the stories they feel they must tell, in the hope that, one day, their nation will be able to have the same sort of pro-democratic freedom as the rest of us.

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I have not seen any of Jafar Panahi's films. I've heard of Crimson Gold through the iconic image on the DVD cover but otherwise I'm not aware of his style. This Is Not A Film would be a great introduction as the filmmaker himself compares how he feels to the characters he created 10 years prior and analyses his own style of filmmaking. As someone who is interested in making films, this is a really fascinating documentary. Essentially a home video turned into a film, where its shown in the film itself when they decided to turn it into a film, it unintentionally breaks down storytelling and storytelling methods as Panahi demonstrates a film idea he has in a pitch like process to the point where he questions why we even need the medium of film. The raw emotion in this doc is compelling despite the fact not a lot happens within its 77 minute running time. In the end, you come to know Panahi and his culture more intimately and it's fascinating how his unintentional documentary style is similar to his fiction filmmaking style, especially with an ending that makes your heart skip a beat. I'll contradict the title, this is one hell of a film.

8/10

This is not a film and also not a documentary in a proper sense. This is a Video recording of two persons. But the good part is that within the few minutes you will understand why this film had to be made. A person cannot stop his talent for longer. This is happening with Jafar Panahi, the Iranian director who is fighting with his government. He has to stay inside his house without making films and he might go to jail. In the middle you might feel a little bored because of no change in location but eventually you will understand his limitations and the desperation which caused him to make this.

PROS: The film is slow but to some extend you will want to forgive for everything. He tries to make the documentary interesting by telling some of his previous films experiences and those are really amazing. His pet will keep you alive all the time. In few words, I would say that this is one of the best documentaries.

CONS: Got a little bored in the middle.

Message: "Don't stop because of obstructions." Verdict: "A must watch documentary."

I saw this film (or not film, if you want..) at the CPH DOX festival yesterday and was spellbound by it. All reviews I have read, have focused on the political circumstances, and the fact that director Jafar Panahi has been blacklisted and sentenced by the Iranian government. I think many of these reviews focus too little on the beauty, warmth and wonderfully subtle message of this film, or the fresh and uplifting honesty and awareness of its cinematic language. To me the most important and moving aspects of this film, is found in the beauty of its atmosphere. In Panahis search for truth and honesty. In its daring and courageous will to let circumstances and coincidence be the writer and director. In its warm, original and surprisingly humorous form. The way the film evolves trough coincidence and the power of circumstance, it itself becomes a beautiful image of Mr. Panahis situation, and by doing that, it becomes a reflection on any persons situation, a reflection on existence itself. Dealing with society, suppression, creativity, filmmaking, human interaction, kindness and honesty I would find it difficult to explain what the film is actually about. Most of all its much more a poetic journey, than a political statement. If it is a statement its a statement of the humane. I understand why some will be bored watching this small, slow, quiet film. Any viewer will have to put himself in a state of slow enjoyment to really benefit from it. But it is absolutely worth it. To me one of the great achievements Mirtahmasb and Panahi makes here, is the fact that they made me feel, think and reflect more by watching two guys filming each other, than any million budget Hollywood movie has ever done. The self aware style of this film worked like a wake up call for me, making it so much stronger.

If you can relate to topics like: filmmaking, art, inspiration or problems connected to being a living being in the world, I highly recommend this. My best wishes for Mr. Panahi, and congratulations with the achievement.

I saw "This Is Not A Film" as part of the Ghent filmfestival 2011. Originally the film "Absolutely Tame Is A Horse" of the same director was scheduled. It had to be replaced in the last minute, due to an export ban on the film itself, plus the Iranian distributor loosing his license.

Nearly all 75 minutes that the replacement film takes, are shot within the apartment of the director in question. He is not allowed to make films, but nowhere was forbidden to read a screenplay aloud. On the other hand, as correctly noted by the camera man, recording this reading might still be considered film making. Hence he named this film "This Is Not A film", which may or may not help to evade the issue.

There were fireworks, which we saw announced on TV as non-religious, a different word for Not Allowed. Yet we clearly saw and heard fireworks on several places spread over the neighborhood. Could this be construed as some not-so-silent protest?? We felt a volatile atmosphere around these fireworks, albeit in an indirect way, because everyone seemed worried about their kids and relatives coming home in time. Moreover, when he was talking on the phone with a colleague who was underway, the latter had to discontinue abruptly when stopped by the police. This very apparently was cause for alarm. Later on he phoned back, and reassured us that the police only wanted to check his camera, lying unused on the passenger seat. All such signals combined clearly demonstrated an atmosphere of suppression and fear for the police.

I was prejudiced by some reviews I've read, describing this not-a-film as a bit boring. Having seen it, I found that too harsh. It may apply to the elevator scene, but that was neatly broken up in small scenes providing for some diversion. Within the apartment, a nice intermezzo was created by a pet lizard. It was being fed in the beginning, and then disappeared out of sight for a while. Later on we saw it crawling over our main character (complaining about its sharp nails) and over the couch, to eventually find a resting place in the bookshelves.

Throughout the film I was surprised that someone convicted for 6 years in prison, and a ban to make films for 20 years, was not locked up, but instead having some house arrest while awaiting an appeal. It clearly shows that I know nothing about the Iranian judicial system. Especially, as we learned from a phone call with his attorney, that his conviction was not on a legal basis, but on political grounds only. The latter is a concept very alien to us.

All in all, this not-a-film gave a limited inside view in a country we only know from newspapers. It was also a revealing inside view in an Iranian apartment, larger and better equipped than I had assumed beforehand. We can only speculate how he pays for all this, given the ban on his regular work. It shows (again) how little we know about Iran. My final conclusion is that I did not regret keeping my tickets for this not-a-film, though I was entitled for a substitute at choice out of the festival program.