Taxi 2015

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It has been month since Jafar Panahi, who is jailed, has waited for a judgment from the appellate tribunal. Panahi and Mojtaba Mirtahmasb attempt to depict the hardships of modern Iranian cinemas by portraying a single moment in his lifetime. Women fight in a land that keeps them out of the game.

Different kinds of woman are struggling to work in the repressive sexual societies of Iran today. In the eyes of an Irishman supplying pizzas, the most serious cases of bribery and imbalance in his own hometown are being committed. A pre-Islamic Revolutionist of 1979, a favorite present day celebrity known throughout the nation, and a young maiden yearning to visit a theatre academy.

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Panahi's Jafar Taxi (2015)

Panahi's Taxi by Jafar provides another round of pointed social commentaries by a photographer whose whole cinematography is considered a risky act of disagreement. Jafar Panahi, an Iranian film maker, is posing as a taxi rider in Tehran in this cycle of profiles of everyday personalities using his transport service.

Panahi's remarkable "taxi."

Jafar Panahi, an Iranian filmmaker who is under home detention and has been excluded from making films since 2010 because of differences of opinion, launches "Taxi", his secretly filmed movie, with a long shot through the roads of Tehran, seen through the windscreen of a motor vehicle. He drives the vehicle, poses as a taxi rider, meets people he doesn't know, friends, and even a relation - and films the meetings with a digital instrument panel-mounted safety camera.

"Taxi " is Panahi's third picture he has made since his capture and conviction. His work has been adapted to the radical changes in his own world. In the face of devastating circumstance - home confinement and twenty years of banning films, conducting interview and traveling abroad - he answered with a majestically impudent video, "This Is Not a Film", starting in 2011.

Mostly he shot this picture near his home, presented himself there, faced the conditions and implication of his line and played the history of the drama he would have made if he hadn't been outlawed. Throughout the world he was able to show "This Is Not a Film" with an just as daring trick: the picture was stolen from Tehran in a flashdrive imbedded in a pie.

He was followed by another story by PANAHAI, an incurable, psychotic, hallucinatory suspense story, "Closed Curtain", shot in a secluded building, about the life of the Iranians besieged by the Iranian government, among them PANAHAI himself, who witnessed the actions. Now in " Taxi ", he further increases the use of his captivity and dares to venture outside his home, albeit in a bladder - the taxi itself - which he turns into a kind of portable minifilm salon in which he is protected from sight and can conduct privately held calls to the people, where he can shoot under controllable conditions encompassing the broader and less controllable of the town as a whole.

Suppression has changed Panahi's artwork. His face, his torso, his voice, his own existence are brought into his movie as an act of self assertiveness against his extinction by the regimes. In Panahi, the kind of reflective movie theater that in the United States would venture to critically dismiss as a narcissist turns into an angry act of resistance.

Panahi takes a couple of taxi drivers, a man and a women, and the man points to the instrument panel mount and finds that it is a safety machine. Strangely, Panahi acknowledges at what point the debate turns to the basic concepts of stealing, the types of crime such a digital still should prevent, and the types of dramatic actions the federal administration could take to discourage it.

The squeaking of the quirky fulcrum on which this cam is installed means throughout the entire movie and follows Panahi's easy, camera-internal panning images - he turns the cam to show what he wants, and this magnificent tone, along with the wobbly shifting of the picture, evokes the essence of filmic destiny. Hana tries to make a documentation out of the windows of the vehicle (Panahi puts her material into his film), a small but enlightening tragedy of road living, while the vehicle is stopped and Panahi gets out for a while.

However, her efforts are frustrated by the stubbornness of the real world - because she filmed actions that were not virtueful, she called the individual she was filing and asked him to alter his behaviour for the purposes of her work. Panahi extract from the innocent playfulness of the sequences a great turn of the filmmaking paradox: As soon as a spectator sees Hana pinching incidents to foster virtues, all representations of threats to virtues on the monitor appear clearly and wrong.

Here Panahi presents a couple of charmed innocent people whose supersubstantial dedication depicts the kind of trivial godliness that strengthens the regimes faithful pretense and virtuous assertions. Finally Panahi finds an excuse to kick the older ladies out of his taxi. Although Panahi works under an officially prohibited film prohibition, his secret movies are shown around the world and enjoy great recognition (as does "Taxi", which won the main award, the Golden Bear, at this year's Berlin International Film Festival).

He is a sensible stage manager; he portrays the excesses and aberrations of the régime and the distortions of behaviour in reaction to stupid regulations and statutes, against common sense. Now he sees these aberrations as a question of live and die. "Taxi " is full of fierce and explicitly thought about the imminent danger of the capital punishment as well as a multitude of foreshadowings about deaths, mortal menaces, mortal anxieties.

His theme is living in the cross-hairs, it is in reality a found footing terror movie.