“Sonder” is a word for the realization that every passerby is living a life as deep as your own– a life that you’ll never know the details of. This is the feeling that permeates Jafar Panahi’s Palme d’Or-winning It Was Just an Accident (ek tasadef sadeh), an abduction thriller with a heart of gold that traces the lives of former political prisoners and the looming specter of revenge.
The film opens with Vahid, who is jokingly referred to as “Jughead” for the shape his body forms as he constantly clutches his aching, painful side. He suffered a ruptured kidney from abuse as a prisoner of the Iranian regime. His imprisonment took place decades before, and now, he lives as normal a life as possible, working in a mechanic’s shop.
That is, until a man (Ebrahim Azizi’s Eghbal) with a broken-down car arrives. He looks, moves, and sounds suspiciously like Vhaid’s torturer. Vahid wastes no time stalking Eghbal to his home, kidnapping him, hogtying him in the back of his van, and driving into the desert to bury him alive.
Trouble arises when his captive regains consciousness while being buried. Eghbal insists he’s not the torturer and pleads for his life. Vahid, played by Vahid Mobasseri in an empathetic performance that reveals the incredible complexity of character in very few words, decides to take him on a tour through Iran, consulting with other victims to determine whether the captive is or isn’t who he says he is.
That Jafar Panahi’s production of It Was Just An Accident was carried out covertly under the nose of the Iranian government, which has previously jailed him, consistently manifests itself. Nearly all of the violence and chaos in the film is confined to small, private spaces, or the camera is snuck in at places just beyond the view of the public.
Vahid subdues his captive with a sharp shovel hit to the face, in broad daylight, but concealed from view by the body of his van. In the film, as in life, it implies, nobody notices.
One of the torturer’s victims is tired of waiting for justice and tries to kill Eghbal in the van. His violent act is interrupted by a few parking lot security guards, who lightly investigate the scene in hushed voices before asking for a bribe. One of the guards carries a credit card terminal with him for that purpose.
The city of Tehran incessantly bustles in the background of every scene, and the banality of everyday life is played skillfully as comic relief and quiet reflection. The city in motion, as the characters make their fateful decision, forces them to reflect: What kind of world would be left for them if they became killers?
The searing pain in Jughead’s damaged kidney is a constant reminder of his suffering and a temptation for revenge. One prisoner recounts the abuse she suffered at the hands of her torturer: “If we kill her now, she’ll go to heaven. She must first be deflowered, so she goes straight to hell.” Life-altering injustice is at stake, and it permeates every scene of Jafar Panahi’s crime thriller.
The big choice unfolds like a play, each character’s morals and needs painted in vivid strokes. Around the central drama, babies are born, couples are engaged, gas tanks are filled, and children run and play. There’s a palpable sense of life’s value that makes this story about brutality so human.
The film’s end is certain to polarize. Your mileage with it will hinge on Mariam Afshari’s final monologue as Shiva, a blood-and-thunder tirade that I find under-acted. Part of a scene isn’t given enough room to breathe, and the film’s conclusion is too tidy. But the journey is enough to give It Was Just An Accident its due. It’s a visceral film in which mercy cuts deeper than any knife.