'It Was Just An Accident' takes on the morality of revenge

Acclaimed Iranian director Jafar Panahi tells the story of a group of ordinary people, all tortured by the same man, grappling with whether or not to take justice into their own hands

A still from the film
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A still from the film

'It Was Just An Accident' takes on the morality of revenge

It Was Just an Accident is an Iranian tragicomedy revenge film that follows a group of ordinary people, all tortured by the same man during interrogations, now faced with their own sense of morality as they seek to take justice into their own hands.

It is the eleventh feature film by director Jafar Panahi. As is common in his work, the film was made in secret to evade censorship imposed by the Iranian government, and it is the first film he has completed since his arrest in 2022, during which he spent seven months in prison before being released in early 2023 following a hunger strike.

Although Panahi has stated that he was not physically abused, unlike the characters in the film who disclose their experiences in chilling detail, the story feels undeniably personal. The different characters and personalities onscreen seem to reflect fragments of his own conflicted thoughts and emotions.

The “simple accident” refers to the moment a man, Eghbal, driving late at night with his pregnant wife and young daughter, hits and kills a dog. A red light shines on Eghbal’s face as he moves through the darkness, visually positioning him from the start as a suspicious, possibly villainous figure.

The accident causes his car to break down, sending him to a nearby garage, where Vahid, a mechanic speaking on the phone out back, overhears the squeak of the man's prosthetic leg. He recognises the sound instantly as belonging to “Peg Leg”, the man who tortured him years earlier.

The next day, Vahid kidnaps Peg Leg in broad daylight and attempts to bury him alive in the desert, only stopping when Eghbal pleads for his life, insisting he is the wrong man. The moment plants doubt in Vahid’s mind about whether he could, in fact, be innocent, he begins a desperate search for other survivors who might help identify him.

The first man he visits refuses to help, insisting that participating in revenge is beneath him and that Vahid mustn't stoop to his abuser’s level. Yet he begrudgingly directs him to Shiva, another victim.

Shiva, a photographer in the middle of shooting a soon-to-be-married couple, hesitantly agrees to identify the man locked in the back of Vahid’s van. Like the others, she never saw her torturer’s face and can only identify him through sensory memory—in her case, smell. She recognises the same strange, nauseating odour, but cannot be sure.

Chaos erupts when the bride reveals she, too, was a victim, and insists on joining them as they collect Hamid, Shiva’s former partner, who identifies Peg Leg by the scars on his leg and flies into a violent rage.

By blending emotional realism with dark humour, Panahi draws the audience into a morally uncomfortable space where the line between righteousness and cruelty is blurred

The fact that the characters can only recognise the man through different senses—scent, touch, hearing—makes it so their judgments are heavily influenced by instinct and emotion rather than logic. Their fragile certainty pushes them into conflict, anger, and panic.

The film is shot in a naturalistic style, using wide-open desert spaces and tight, suffocating close-ups inside the van. These cramped interior scenes feel like a different world entirely, perhaps even another form of prison, echoing the techniques of Panahi's mentor, Abbas Kiarostami. The car becomes a space that is both public and intimate—a liminal zone where suppressed emotions break through. Even though most scenes occur in open and public settings, the characters seem suspended in a private reality of their own, ruled not by law but by trauma and raw instinct.

The comedy works best in these ruptures, where corruption and the effects of living in a tightly controlled society break through the group's isolated bubble. In one standout moment, two shady security guards overhear an argument between Hamid and the groom and demand to be paid for staying quiet, even producing a portable card reader when told the group has no cash. The absurdity of the moment really landed with the audience—one of many scenes in the movie where the characters' world clashes with reality.

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A still from the film

The absurdist tone extends to the bride, who remains in her wedding dress throughout the entire journey, creating visually striking, comedic images as she moves through scenes of panic and brutality. Her costume serves as a reminder of a future interrupted—a living symbol of normalcy smashed against the chaos of vengeance. 

The film ends with Peg Leg confessing to being the man who tormented them. He first insists he was justified, wearing a sinister grin as he declares faith in the principles of the regime and claims that killing him would make him a martyr. But as Shiva confronts him, his certainty collapses and he breaks down in tears, pleading for forgiveness. His initial confidence dissolves into pathetic desperation as he sits tied to a tree like a whimpering dog.

And while the actors deliver intense performances, the moment feels slightly unsatisfying—almost like a narrative compromise designed to ease the characters' consciences and sidestep the film's core question: what does justice look like when there is no clean answer?

Because the question of Eghbal's identity is never truly central (the film strongly suggests early on that he is indeed Peg Leg), it is the conflict between the survivors and their contrasting notions of revenge, accountability, and humanity that gives the story its power.

REUTERS/Stephane Mahe
Director Jafar Panahi, Palme d'Or award winner for the film 'It Was Just an Accident', poses after the closing ceremony of the 78th Cannes Film Festival in Cannes, France, on 24 May 2025.

It Was Just An Accident doesn't deliver the catharsis expected from a traditional revenge film. Instead, Panahi offers something more painful and more truthful—a portrait of broken people struggling to define justice in a world where the systems meant to protect them have already failed. By blending emotional realism with darkly absurd humour, he draws the audience into a morally uncomfortable space where the line between righteousness and cruelty is blurred.  

The film lingers long after its final image, which appears to unfold in a single continuous take, showing Vahid helping his family load items into a van for his sister's wedding. With his back to the camera, the sound of the squeaking prosthetic leg can be heard off-screen.

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