This is Not a Film

As much as anything else, an exploration of the use of various mnemo-technical instruments as critical and political weapons. For this reason alone, this document is significant, perhaps less for what it says about the Iranian government than for what it suggests about what art or cinema has mostly failed to be, and what perhaps it needs to become, not just “there” but “here”. For this to occur, however, requires not just the desperate energy produced by some looming conflagration, but courage.

don't let the air of wry resignation fool you; panahi is an animal scaling the walls of his cage, his passion far from smothered by ever-contracting boundaries. as NYE fireworks are re-contextualised as the frightening booms of a dystopia oppressed by faceless authoritarian forces, he blazes with the insistence that dual concepts of cinema and freedom are inseparable. the final shot is both an affirmation of the artistic capacity of the medium, and a sobering reminder of what it's up against.

Ironically, this (non) film, by simply (not) existing, may very well have a greater and more enduring impact than any film that Panahi has made to this point. That it is even watchable, let alone so compelling, is a testament to Panahi's status as both an auteur and fascinating individual subject.

A film about what it means to be an artist, to have creativity that cannot be stifled and to be so dedicated to your art that absolutely nothing can stop you from making it. A must-see.

Few films constitute political rebellion simply for existing but Jafar Panahi's mischievous and plaintive video is an act of protest every second of its duration. Taped while under house arrest with the help of a colleague, Panahi attempts to stage a banned screenplay, analyzes how he directed the amateur actors in his other films, refuses to babysit a neighbor's dog, takes calls from family, friends & co-workers and follows a trash man out into the streets of the city, full of fire & fireworks.