Taxi: A Blatant Middle Finger to Panahi’s Suppressors

Editor’s Notes: Taxi opens Friday October 2nd in Toronto at TIFF Bell Lightbox - 350 King St. W.

To fully understand and enjoy Jafar Panahi’s three latest projects, it is strongly suggested to become versed in his current legal circumstances. The Iranian director has made an unofficial trilogy of “non-films” since the instatement of his 20-year ban on filmmaking by his country’s government, and like the first two, Taxi stands as a piece of protest art unmatched on the cinema landscape. Somehow, out of the shambles that is the politicization of Panahi’s cinema by the Iranian Ministry of Culture, the director creates an unflinchingly original portrait of suppression and puzzlement. And yet three pictures into what can rightly be considered a new genre, Panahi is able to vary his delivery enough to keep the message fresh and exhilarating. Where This is Not a Film is an emotional ode to cinema set during the raw and formative moments of his ban, Taxi is a blatant middle finger to his suppressors, delivered in broad daylight and, often, with a smile.

Taxi is a blatant middle finger to Panahi’s suppressors, delivered in broad daylight and, often, with a smile.

Panahi, in character as Jafar Panahi, drives around the streets of Tehran in what we can titularly assume is a taxi. We’re required to assume this because out of the five or so cameras used, none are ever recording while outside of the vehicle, with our point of view cutting from the dashboard to the back seat to cameras held by a variety of passengers while in the car. Despite this frequent cutting, the cohesiveness of all the footage taken from just 180 degrees inside a consistent interior gives Taxi the feeling of a long take as the driver glides from stop to stop. I have no idea how many takes the variety of scenes took (and indeed, I assume there was an incredible amount of coordination required), but the feeling of a long take aids the flowing nature of the story, livening up an hour-long drive through bustling city streets.

This lighter tone is incredibly important to making Taxi both accessible and entertaining. Throughout the variety of passengers welcomed into the vehicle are a few that bring with them dark and dire circumstances. Among the early events, the driver ferries a bloodied man to the hospital, his wife sobbing and caressing the man’s head. Later, two women plead for rapid transport, citing their sure demise if they don’t arrive to their destination on time. Despite these examples, the atmosphere in the cab rarely changes from a tongue-in-cheek sense of suspended reality. Panahi is a cog to move the story, but more so he acts the part of a showman, and when the fourth wall is broken in a few instances, I nearly expected the director to throw a wink the way of the audience.

It is well established that Taxi doesn’t aspire to be a political documentary, yet the message is still delivered with exact lucidity.

It is well established that Taxi doesn’t aspire to be a political documentary, yet the message is still delivered with exact lucidity. Nearly five years into Panahi’s ban on filmmaking, he is still asking many of the questions he’s never received answers for: (among them) how do you make a distributable film following national standards that in any way reflects reality? At one point, his on-screen niece reads the Iranian censorship rules one by one, giving Panahi (both the Panahi in front of and behind the camera) the opportunity to question various aspects of the code. What can he actually get indicted for? The majority of Taxi is recorded on a dashboard camera meant to deter and record potential robberies. In the act of turning the camera towards the passengers (who may or may not be reading a script, theoretically), is the driver then directing a movie? What if there’s a “greater good” involved, such as capturing a video will and testament at the behest of a relative?

All of these questions are interesting in their own right, and to be able to ask them with clarity and a bit of humor is incredible. However, Taxi would not have comparable power or relevance were any other filmmaker involved. Jafar Panahi’s legal situation places him in an unenviable and unique position in world cinema. It is appalling that Panahi must remain in his current position (and many of his international colleagues have stated as much), and yet somehow, his original and daring brand of film continues to astound and overwhelm.