Jafar Panahi Has His Eyes on the Future

I was supposed to meet Panahi in person for the North American premiere of It Was Just an Accident, his first film since being released from prison in Tehran two years ago. But due to the U.S. government shutdown, his visa didn’t come through in time, so my trip from upstate New York to the city proved pointless, and we had to resort to Zoom. Ever the director, Panahi instructed me to adjust my camera so the right amount of my head and torso was in frame. Only then was he ready to talk.

Jafar Panahi sank into his chair against a brick wall and stared into the Zoom call. “It’s like you’re looking at me from the bottom of a well,” he said, half-joking, studying my video feed.

Jafar Panahi sank into his chair against a brick wall and stared into the Zoom call. “It’s like you’re looking at me from the bottom of a well,” he said, half-joking, studying my video feed.

I was supposed to meet Panahi in person for the North American premiere of It Was Just an Accident, his first film since being released from prison in Tehran two years ago. But due to the U.S. government shutdown, his visa didn’t come through in time, so my trip from upstate New York to the city proved pointless, and we had to resort to Zoom. Ever the director, Panahi instructed me to adjust my camera so the right amount of my head and torso was in frame. Only then was he ready to talk.

Jafar Panahi is one of the most celebrated filmmakers alive. Just months before we talked, he’d won the Palme d’Or at Cannes, making him only the fifth filmmaker in history (and the only living one) to win the top prize at all three major European festivals. Yet to many Iranians, Panahi is known as much for his defiance as for his cinema. His political outspokenness and global visibility have long brought him into conflict with the government, which remains uneasy with independent artists. This tension reached a breaking point in 2010, following the Green Movement protests. While Panahi was working on a film with his friend and collaborator Mohammad Rasoulof, security agents raided his home, confiscated their equipment, and hauled them and several others to Tehran’s notorious Evin Prison.

Behind bars, Panahi went on hunger strike, sparking outrage across the international film community. At Cannes, the jury placed an empty chair onstage to highlight his absence. By the end of the year, a court had convicted Panahi of “assembly and colluding with the intention to commit crimes against the country’s national security and propaganda against the Islamic Republic,” and issued a draconian sentence: six years in prison and a 20-year ban from filmmaking, giving interviews, and leaving the country.

Panahi was released after a few months, placed under house arrest, and went on to make several films in secret. In 2022, he was once again arrested and imprisoned, triggering outrage. This time, upon his release seven months later, a judge dropped the charges and lifted Panahi’s outstanding ban. Then Panahi got to work. It Was Just an Accident is the first film he has made in relative freedom in almost two decades.

In the last few months, Panahi has given dozens of interviews while traveling internationally to promote It Was Just