While various auteurs around the globe continuously produce features that amaze their audiences, it is Iran’s own enfant terrible, Jafar Panahi, whose dedication and contribution to cinema remains nearly unmatched. Following brief imprisonment in 2010 and a twenty-year sentencing ban on filmmaking, Panahi is legally prohibited from, “…making or directing any movies, writing screenplays, giving any form of interview with Iranian or foreign media as well as leaving the country except for Hajj holy pilgrimage to Mecca or medical treatment.”
Since the sentencing, Panahi has managed to have his documentary This Is Not a Film (2011) – which was smuggled out of the country on a USB drive that was concealed within a cake – and the covertly shot Closed Curtain (2013) premiere at festivals around the globe. Now, with yet another follow-up and his third post-ban film, Panahi finally returns to the streets of Tehran with Taxi.
Experimental and casual in concept, Taxi is a film that takes place wholly within what its title suggests. Panahi, who is simply referred to as “Mr. Panahi” for much of the film’s duration, plays a filmmaker posing as a cab driver who awkwardly and confusedly attempts to navigate the streets of a busy Tehran. Ousted multiple times by various fare riders, Panahi blurs the line between fiction and reality by implementing a sort of meta-neo-realism (that is akin to fellow Iranian filmmaker, Abbas Kiarostami).
What this “meta-neo-realism” provides is equally measured glimpses into the mind of the artist as well as the world he inhabits. Supporting this are interspersed moments of references to and critiques of Panahi’s own filmography. Meaning that, while “the taxi” is a literal taxi cab that shuffles its riders from one location to the other, Taxi is also a mobile stream of consciousness for the director to converse about issues that he is no longer able to (within the comforting confines of cinema).
Balancing a cast of characters that features a preaching “freelance” mugger, a pirated DVD smuggler, elderly superstitious women, and even Panahi’s own niece, Taxi is a typically lighthearted affair that is able to create a powerful social dialogue amidst the never ending car horns and turn signals. While the conversations tend to veer between social commentary and film criticism, there is a certain importance placed upon the cinema that is deeply felt.
Above all, Taxi is an inspiring cinematic experience. Panahi is a truly brave and courageous auteur that continues to push the limits of cinema even when faced with danger. A love letter to his craft as much as it is an incredibly frustrated essay about the country which he dearly loves, Panahi’s Taxi is a scenic ride through Iran’s capital that serves as a portrait as well as a deconstruction of the city and its artist.
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