Un simple accident

This was surely a sentimental choice for the top prize at Cannes, a tribute to Panahi's undoubted achievement in getting it made rather than a recognition of truly outstanding cinema. Tonally uneven, indifferently acted and its script peppered with on-the-nose dialogue that daubs highlighter on its 'cycle of violence' theme, I found it all rather tedious. It's only in a long static shot in the last 15 minutes that the film comes to any dramatic life, but even this scene fails to truly convince.

Will this be in anyone's list of the best films of the 2020s when we get to that reckoning, or will it have been largely forgotten like that other Palme Dud, 'Dheepan'? I think I know the answer.

There's a lot to say about this film. If there's one thing Iranians share as a nation, it's intergenerational trauma, rage, and hatred toward the last two regimes - one, the other, or both - and the lingering question of what to do with all that, with or without the current regime. This masterpiece by Jafar Panahi captures it perfectly.

Overrated. Linear narrative with no twists. Evens seem expected ' or too banal to be expected, or useful. Dialogue is average or below average. At times reduced to mere rant. Characters seem caricaturic at times. Photography is as average. Way overrated. I Don't understand how it won Palm d'or. Politics I guess.

It's supposedly meant to be a powerful film, and I do acknowledge its historical and political importance. But it simply didn't move me.

All the doubt and tension set up at the beginning seems to dissolve into mildly comic situations that never quite become truly funny.

The secondary characters come across as caricatures, and I couldn't bring myself to care about them.

In the final part-which I had expected to be dramatic and genuinely impactful-I found myself only wondering where it was all supposed to lead. The acting felt forced and didn't moved me.

Within minutes, people who were determined to kill suddenly give up in a comical outburst, and a villain suddenly seems to have a change of heart.

I really wanted to like this movie.

Iran is producing some of the best modern filmmakers working today, yet sadly, it is not reaping its artistic rewards. Many of these directors are choosing to leave the theocracy and make films elsewhere-or film in secret, risking imprisonment from censors. Last year brought the brilliant Oscar-nominated The Seed of the Sacred Fig (2024), smuggled out of Iran by its now-exiled director Mohammad Rasoulof into Germany. This year, we have a similar case: Jafar Panahi, jailed for his filmmaking for years, delivers with It Was Just an Accident (2025), this year's Palme d'Or winner at Cannes, produced in France instead.

It Was Just an Accident takes place in Iran, where Vahid (Vahid Mobasseri), a car mechanic, suspects that a limping client (Ebrahim Azizi) who appears one night is his former torturer from when he was jailed for protesting unpaid wages. In an impulsive act, Vahid kidnaps the man, but just before he's ready to exact his revenge, doubt creeps in. Is he sure this is the right man? The film then follows Vahid as he seeks out former inmates who might identify his hostage, while also risking their own thirst for vengeance spinning out of control.

Panahi has long specialized in moral and societal dilemmas condensed into intimate settings. His previous film, No Bears (2022), followed an Iranian filmmaker harassed by censors and threatened with jail time, while his surrounding community watched passively. In It Was Just an Accident, Panahi explores the lives of the formerly incarcerated, honoring the permanent scars they carry even after walking free. Yet the film also poses the question of vengeance; its value, its futility, and its moral cost.

Panahi himself has much to resent, especially toward the jailers who suppressed his voice, art, and physical liberty for years. Yet It Was Just an Accident approaches injustice and cruelty not with wrath or righteous fury, but with empathy and moral ambiguity. The doubt that consumes Vahid-and infects viewers as they watch-is central to Panahi's humane perspective. Even as the film oscillates between convincing us of the suspect's guilt and innocence, we're left wondering whether even the death of a guilty man would bring peace or justice.

The film's moral debate unfolds through a chorus of former prisoners, each embodying a different response to trauma: from the wrathful to the despairing to the willfully ignorant. This ensemble finds coherence through Vahid, brilliantly embodied by Mobasseri, whose shifting expressions mirror our own uncertainty. At moments, Panahi even flirts with dark comedy, highlighting the absurdity of vengeance taken too far.

Panahi once again demonstrates his mastery of cinematic craft. He edits most scenes within a take or two, with the film's climax running nearly ten minutes uncut; a stunning showcase of confident blocking, lighting, and performance. The balance between darkness and absurdity, tragedy and irony, is handled with such precision that each tonal shift feels organic rather than jarring.

In the end, It Was Just an Accident stands as another example of the great cinema that Iran's repression is paradoxically inspiring and tragically missing out on. Panahi delivers an entertaining yet deeply thought-provoking moral drama, keeping viewers on edge with his fluid command of tone, performance, and storytelling. One can only hope his meditation on vengeance and empathy resonates far beyond the screen, especially among the world's leaders today.