Jafar Panahi’s new film Taxi paints a uniquely stunning portrait of daily life in Tehran, the Iranian capital. The entire movie takes place during one day, inside a taxi. Panahi, playing a fictionalized version of himself, picks up a variety of passengers, and through conversations, explores both the peculiarities of Iranian life and a universal sense of humanity.
Panahi, who was banned from filmmaking for 20 years after being accused of creating propaganda against the Iranian government, covertly films the movie from inside its one setting, the taxi, using a variety of cameras, including Panahi’s iPhone. The film has no credits to protect the identities of the cast and crew, since the film was made outside of the Iranian ministry’s approval.
He weaves humour and stark reality seamlessly through the film with the different passengers he picks up, from two women who believe goldfish from a sacred stream are why they’re alive, to a desperate wife pleading with Panahi to film her husband’s last words as he bleeds heavily in her lap on the way to the hospital.
Panahi makes great use of an incredibly small space. The film’s cinematography is stunning, with beautiful yet simple imagery.
Panahi’s niece, Hana, is perhaps the most memorable character. Having been assigned a short film project for school, she spends her screentime cheekily bantering with her uncle and innocently parroting the censorship requirements that her teacher set for her project: “good guys” can only have Islamic names, they can’t wear ties (a sign of the West), and there can be no “sordid realism,” even if it’s the truth.
The film also digs deep into the complexities of right and wrong. The film shows a debate between two passengers early in the movie about the merits of capital punishment, and the story of a friend of Panahi’s who had recently been robbed by people he knew, but didn’t press charges because he understood their desperation. Through this, Taxi illustrates that the lines between good and bad are not as simple as they sometimes seem.
Some of the quirks and expressions of Farsi are lost in translation, but nevertheless the back-and-forth between Panahi and his passengers still strikes an emotional chord, and the film’s universal themes of struggling for freedom and justice, and perhaps even more importantly, just surviving whatever daily bleakness life throws at you, resonate.
Taxi is an incredible and minimalist film, and one of Panahi’s most accessible to all audiences. It is courageous, and creative in both its message, and the simple rebellious act of its creation, something that is alluded to in the film as well. It is an optimistic, and yet sharp and clever look at political and religious oppression, as well as a more universal struggle for freedom that audiences will be able to relate to.
