Mohamad Ali Elyasmehr, Hadis Pakbaten, and Majid Panahi in It Was Just an Accident (2025)

‘It Was Just an Accident’ movie review: Jafar Panahi’s Cannes winner a bitterly cynical Iranian satire

A group of former Iranian political prisoners struggles with the opportunity to exact revenge on their tormentor in It Was Just an Accident, which won the top prize at last year’s Cannes Film Festival before its Czech debut at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival and is now screening in Prague cinemas (with English subtitles at select screenings at Kino Světozor, Edison Filmhub, Kino Aero, and other locations).

This masterfully-crafted film from exiled Iranian director Jafar Panahi flawlessly blends nail-biting suspense, bitter political satire, and moments of laugh-out-loud comedy, but places its audience in the same predicament as its protagonists: viewers pulled in by the compelling revenge-movie narrative may be frustrated by the lack of satisfying resolution. In the wake of ongoing political turmoil in Iran, it underscores the sentiment that there are no easy answers here.

It Was Just an Accident begins like a Hitchcockian thriller: as a family drives along a desolate country road at night, the father (Ebrahim Azizi) accidentally strikes a stray dog. He stops at an isolated garage to repair the car, where the mechanic Vahid (Vahid Mobasseri) takes an unusual interest in the family. As Vahid covertly follows them home, we might imagine the trouble about to befall this family following the titular accident.

But the narrative takes an inventive twist as Panahi plays with our allegiances (and not for the last time): Vahid is not a villain, and the family may not be so innocent. The next day, Vahid follows him, eventually abducting him in an attempt to determine whether he is Eghbal, a former prison officer responsible for Vahid’s past torture. Vahid was blindfolded in captivity, but recognized the distinct sound of the man’s prosthetic leg when he came into the garage.

Panahi quickly establishes the moral uncertainty that will define the film. Vahid is torn between instinctive vengeance and the need for confirmation, seeking out witnesses from his past—including photographer Shiva (Mariam Afshari), who also survived Eghbal’s interrogations—to verify the man’s identity.

Each character brings a unique sensory method of recognition: smell, touch, or sound, reflecting the trauma of having been blindfolded and restrained during torture. The narrative moves methodically through this pursuit, blending suspenseful sequences with absurdist humor, such as transporting the captive in a van while attending to the real-world birth of a child and unexpected logistical mishaps.

The narrative unfolds with uneasy patience, privileging moral questions over conventional action. Even as the group corners the man in a desert clearing, demanding testimony about his actions, doubt and hesitation dominate their interactions. Panahi continually reminds viewers that vengeance is rarely straightforward, and that human responses to oppression are fraught with complexity. Every character decision is a study in ethical ambiguity, underscoring the central question: can violence ever truly resolve injustice?

Cinematographer Amin Jafari captures the Iranian countryside in breathtaking detail, filming clandestinely without permits that would never have been granted to Panahi given the film’s politically sensitive subject matter. The rural landscapes are both idyllic and subtly oppressive, providing a natural tension that complements the film’s narrative.

Performances are strikingly authentic: Mobasseri conveys Vahid’s internal conflict with subtle shifts in expression and body language, while Azizi balances charm and menace, manipulating our allegiance at multiple points, though the protagonists are less easy to convince. The supporting cast, including Afshari and Mohamad Ali Elyasmehr as Hamid, likewise exudes a grounded realism that makes each moral quandary feel immediate.

For a film grounded in moral quandaries and political allegory, It Was Just an Accident is unusually tightly constructed. Editor Amir Etminan maintains a taut rhythm, alternating between measured suspense and comic interludes, while the lack of a traditional soundtrack heightens the tension around the central conflict.

Not only a well-crafted tale, It Was Just an Accident is a powerful allegory for contemporary Iranian politics. The protagonists’ moral dilemma—whether to exact personal revenge or pursue justice with restraint—mirrors the challenges faced by resistance movements in Iran, highlighting the costs of retaliation and the difficulty of preserving humanity under repression.

Panahi emphasizes that the system itself creates a cycle of violence: each act of oppression breeds both trauma and a thirst for retribution, yet the film resists offering easy answers, leaving viewers to confront the discomforting tension between justice and mercy.

It Was Just an Accident operates simultaneously as a suspenseful thriller, a dark political satire, and a meditation on trauma and accountability. Every technical choice, from cinematography to editing to sound design, reinforces the story’s ethical complexity, while the performances elevate the emotional stakes. The film is at once chilling, funny, and deeply human, a rare achievement that confirms Panahi’s continued relevance and ingenuity as a filmmaker working under extraordinary constraints.

It Was Just an Accident

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Jason Pirodsky

Jason Pirodsky has been writing about the Prague film scene and reviewing films in print and online media since 2005. A member of the Online Film Critics Society, you can also catch his musings on life in Prague at expats.cz and tips on mindfulness sourced from ancient principles at MaArtial.com.

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