yek tasadef sadeh/ it was just an accident (d. jafar panahi)

It Was Just an Accident opens with all the hallmarks of Iranian cinema: neorealism, long scenes in cars, an opaque layer of mystery. It also won the Palme D’Or, an instant source of scepticism. However, I would suggest its roots are more tied to that rare genre, the camper van drama, which includes Little Miss Sunshine and the Sorin’s Historias Minimas. In Panahi’s tale, the minivan contains five clearly defined characters and a kidnapped torturer. Unless the kidnapper, driver and owner of the van, Vahid, has made a mistake and kidnapped an innocent man. This becomes a twisted road movie, which is also a meditation on state abuse and revenge. Panahi’s narrative has a straightforward, traditional brilliance: we need to know if the kidnapped man is indeed the torturer, and if he is what actions his victims will take. It deserves all the garlands and prizes it has received. Cineastes don’t need to spend big bucks to construct a film which is gripping and thought-provoking. The irony is that this film is reflective of issues in so many countries: the next night we went to see a documentary about the Uruguayan dictatorship, and Panahi’s story speaks eloquently to that time: the cruelty and damage inflicted by state terrorism on defenceless people who might, one day, seek retribution.

three days of the condor (d. sydney pollack, w. james grady, lorenzo semple jr, david rayfiel)

At the time of writing, the USA is on the verge of attacking Venezuela. Since Pollack’s film was released, the USA has invaded Iraq, and intervened in Libya.

Redford is a CIA desk jockey whose job is to analyse literature for clues of global turbulence. He stumbles across a text linking Iraq, Libya and Venezuela without at first joining the dots. But his discovery triggers the summary execution of his colleagues. Someone desperately needs to make sure that what Redford has discovered doesn’t get out. The narrative plot points might be tenuous, but the underlying thesis is as valid as ever. At the end of the film Redford confronts the head of the maverick CIA within a CIA - and realises it’s all about the oil. Same as it ever was.

Besides its ongoing geopolitical resonance, Three Days of the Condor remains a terrific thriller, blessed by extravagantly good Hollywood performances from Redford, Dunaway and Von Sydow. Pollack’s camera roams New York, with a protagonical role for the World Trade Centre, where the CIA office is based. Dunaway and Redford somehow manage to convince in their star-crossed one-night stand. This is a Hollywood thriller par excellence, which also happens to be an endlessly relevant treatise on the political systems of the past 50 years.

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As I post this, as ever weeks after watching the film, the USA has just bombed Venezuela.