No es una película

This Is Not A Film comes to audiences already with a high level of notoriety. The famous film behind "cakegate", it's constricted production meant that the film was distributed out of Iran on a USB stick concealed inside a birthday cake. It's the kind of screwball scenario you might find on a Judd Apatow movie, but This Is Not A Film is no laughing matter. As the title would assume, this is not so much of a film as it is a film exorcism.

Whilst under house arrest, and pursuing an appeal against a six year prison sentence and 20 year ban from directing, esteemed Iranian auteur Jafar Panahi (The Mirror, Crimson Gold) invites fellow filmmaker Mojtaba Mirtahmasb into his home to crudely document a day in his tormented life.

Shot on a digicam and later an iPhone, we follow Panahi shuffling around his apartment, feeding his daughter's pet iguana, paying the delivery boy for takeaway food, and calling his tenacious attorney trying to get him out of house arrest. At first, it's a minor study of segregation and loneliness, but This Is Not a Film is at it's most enthralling when Panahi expresses his natural directing flare; acting out his latest screenplay from the (dis)comfort of his family living room, discussing camera angles to the most minute detail, and reflecting on how he managed to reach such a raw level of intimacy in his previous works. Whether you are aware of his filmography or not, it's clear that Panahi is an exuberant cinephile, which makes his current, and ongoing battles with the government even more distressing.

If you were forced to judge this meta-commentary diatribe, one could suggest that Panahi and Mirtahmasb fail to present a bigger picture on the crisis of the state's dominance over artistic intent. Similarly to 2006′s female equality drama Offside, This is Not a Film is incredibly subtle with it's political allegories, bordering on the coyly parabolic. Instead of presenting a bigger, ultimately more controversial picture on the crisis of state dominance in the creative industries, Panahi and Mirtahmasb reach a palpable level of verisimilitude in the very smallness of the situation. It all comes together in a final twenty minute sequence where Panahi falls behind the camera and back into storyteller mode (it could cost him his life, but he can't help it). He follows a young dustman around the apartment block and asking him what his plans for the future will be. The cordial apprentice is unsure, but it's hopefully going to be a life less frightening than the one Panahi has been dealt.

This Is Not A Film concludes with harrowing sentiment. With the sound of New Years' Eve fireworks and cheering in the background, the screen fades to black, with the credits and special thanks nods are left blank, followed by a final frame that sets out a humble dedication to all Iranian filmmakers. It may be a non-film but, whatever it is, it's certainly a riveting watch; and has rightly earned a place in the Oscars' documentary award shortlist.

Here in the Western world, our access to information, democratic governments and human rights mean that cinema is taken for granted, and filmmakers have it easy. Whilst we bemoan the extortionate prices of popcorn, Panahi and Mirtahmasb are putting their lives on the line to tell the stories they feel they must tell, in the hope that, one day, their nation will be able to have the same sort of pro-democratic freedom as the rest of us.

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In only seventy-six minutes, the "documentary" (if we can call it that) This is Not a Film manages to do much in the way of silent rebellion, documentation, personal-freedom, and expressionism in a beautifully unconventional sense. It focuses on director Jafar Panahi, who was criminally silenced by the Iranian government for making films deemed as "propaganda." During this particular time, and in current times, Panahi is prohibited from making films and affiliating himself with any types of films. This fact alone makes This is Not a Film bolder and one of the most ostentatious documentaries ever made; mainly because it's a project that never was supposed to even be a thought in Panahi's head.

We see Panahi, alone in his large high-rise apartment, go about his daily activities, which include eating breakfast, playing with his daughter's iguana named Igi, analyzing his older films in a very deep sense, acting out scenes from his movies, and repeatedly calling his attorney to get a ruling on his case. Because of his "propaganda" films, Panahi has the potential to face six years in prison and the possibility of never directing another film again. This is a scary thought for a man who is clearly not our of words to say.

The naturalism and simplicity is what immediately sold me on this film. It's not hard to tell that much of this picture was comprised on Panahi's spontaneous thoughts. Nothing is very consistent; not all of it is particularly compelling, but all of it is truly a sight to behold. This is Not a Film, in order to receive distribution, was put on a flash drive and smuggled out of Iran in a cake, making this a truly unique picture just in its story. How many films (or "films") can you say you've seen that really shouldn't have been made? While my biggest compliment to the "film" is its naturalism and biographical nature, it also is my most prominent complaint. Many things happen here, some interesting, some not, making this experience fluctuate in quality more-so than any other picture I've seen this year. A strong part of me absolutely lauds Panahi for his bravery and commitment to get his "film" released, yet because of its loose, lax nature, I question why he chose to make it more about his typical day instead of voicing an opinion on the cruelty of the Iranian government. Now, I realize how deviant and asking that sounds, seeing as it was incalculably daring for Panahi to make a film at all. But why not go for broke if you chose to go back on a law at all? Why not question or defend the "propaganda" accusation his films now bear? Why not take in account how you really feel about this whole thing? However, one surprisingly elegant thing he does in This is Not a Film is question what exactly a film is? Moreover, does this picture he's making now count as a film? Is it "illegal" that he's getting his pal Mojtaba Mirtahmasb to film much of it on a cell-phone camera? Is it because it's spontaneous, and follows a very non-linear style that it doesn't qualify as a film? Does a film need to be a certain length to be constituted that? Does anything need to happen? I was reminded of those short films I always find myself watching on Youtube from the late 1800's to the early 1900's of little skits or documentaries that briefly regard life/humor/culture of a country at that specific time. Were they films? They never seemed to follow a strict plot line.

This is Not a Film is something people from all countries (especially America) should watch in order to truly view how repressed, censored, and limited other countries can be. In America, grotesque films like The Human Centipede can be made, showcasing disgust and loathe at its height, 2016: Obama's America can be made, a film that deliberately regards almost everything the current US president says as lies and cites his motives as unworthy, and The Hangover Part II can be made, a raunchy comedic exercise capitalizing off lewdness and politically incorrect humor. The fact that This is Not a Film came to be may sit indifferently with people from America, but the fact that it exists is an astonishing landmark for Iranian freedom of speech. While I can't recommend this work in an overbearing nature, if you go to a video store and find it there, it is probably the one you should pick up for its importance and bold roots. But since it isn't a film, I technically should be reviewing it or saying any of this.

Starring: Jafar Panahi. Directed by: Jafar Panahi and Mojtaba Mirtahmasb.

Iranian director Jafar Panahi is one of world's most important movie makers nowadays, while also a victim of the oppressive regime in his country. Arrested, together with other artists, during the events following the Iranian presidential elections in 2009, he spent several months in prison. He was freed then on bail while the judicial procedure against him was going on. Mr. Panahi was eventually sentenced to 6 years of prison and 20 years ban to make movies.

It was during the period spent at home in 2010 that Jafar Panahi made this movie, with the title This is Not a Film (In Film Nist). A friend, documentary producer Mojtaba Mirtahmasb (the author of Lady of the Roses, 2008), came with a consumer-grade camera and shot the footage for a 75 minutes video, having Mr. Panahi as co-director, screenwriter, film editor and star. The video was eventually smuggled outside Iran on a flash drive and screened at the 2011 Cannes Festival.

It's just that: 75 minutes in a day spent by Jafar Panahi at home, waiting for the result of the trial. He talks to the phone with his lawyer, then feeds his pet (who is a very nice iguana), then talks with the cameraman shooting the footage about a project for a new film, rejected by the censorship, memories from some of his movies come and go, suddenly a terrible noise of explosions is heard - it's nothing than fireworks, and Mr. Panahi goes to the window to shoot them with his cell phone.

A movie that is not a movie, says Mr. Panahi. It's just mundane reality. Well, it's not that simple: this movie is a non-movie while this non-movie is a movie. Because it's his reality, his universe, which is sending us to the universe of his movies. All his movies talk actually about him, about his universe, and it becomes obvious here, in this non-movie which carries all the tension between image and reality - reality sublimated in cinematic image. Like Mozart, this moviemaker thinks only in artistic constructions. For Mozart any fact of life was musical sound, musical rhythm, for Panahi every fact of life is cinematic image, cinematic rhythm. Look, even his concerns for the sentence to come become art! However, the strongest association should be made to Beethoven! This moviemaker carries all the tension between reality and art, all his creation is fully aware of the paradoxical relationship between reality and art: reality mirrored in art, art mirrored in reality, art suffering that reality struggles to keep its autonomy, reality suffering that it is taken for art.

This is not a film and also not a documentary in a proper sense. This is a Video recording of two persons. But the good part is that within the few minutes you will understand why this film had to be made. A person cannot stop his talent for longer. This is happening with Jafar Panahi, the Iranian director who is fighting with his government. He has to stay inside his house without making films and he might go to jail. In the middle you might feel a little bored because of no change in location but eventually you will understand his limitations and the desperation which caused him to make this.

PROS: The film is slow but to some extend you will want to forgive for everything. He tries to make the documentary interesting by telling some of his previous films experiences and those are really amazing. His pet will keep you alive all the time. In few words, I would say that this is one of the best documentaries.

CONS: Got a little bored in the middle.

Message: "Don't stop because of obstructions." Verdict: "A must watch documentary."

I saw "This Is Not A Film" as part of the Ghent filmfestival 2011. Originally the film "Absolutely Tame Is A Horse" of the same director was scheduled. It had to be replaced in the last minute, due to an export ban on the film itself, plus the Iranian distributor loosing his license.

Nearly all 75 minutes that the replacement film takes, are shot within the apartment of the director in question. He is not allowed to make films, but nowhere was forbidden to read a screenplay aloud. On the other hand, as correctly noted by the camera man, recording this reading might still be considered film making. Hence he named this film "This Is Not A film", which may or may not help to evade the issue.

There were fireworks, which we saw announced on TV as non-religious, a different word for Not Allowed. Yet we clearly saw and heard fireworks on several places spread over the neighborhood. Could this be construed as some not-so-silent protest?? We felt a volatile atmosphere around these fireworks, albeit in an indirect way, because everyone seemed worried about their kids and relatives coming home in time. Moreover, when he was talking on the phone with a colleague who was underway, the latter had to discontinue abruptly when stopped by the police. This very apparently was cause for alarm. Later on he phoned back, and reassured us that the police only wanted to check his camera, lying unused on the passenger seat. All such signals combined clearly demonstrated an atmosphere of suppression and fear for the police.

I was prejudiced by some reviews I've read, describing this not-a-film as a bit boring. Having seen it, I found that too harsh. It may apply to the elevator scene, but that was neatly broken up in small scenes providing for some diversion. Within the apartment, a nice intermezzo was created by a pet lizard. It was being fed in the beginning, and then disappeared out of sight for a while. Later on we saw it crawling over our main character (complaining about its sharp nails) and over the couch, to eventually find a resting place in the bookshelves.

Throughout the film I was surprised that someone convicted for 6 years in prison, and a ban to make films for 20 years, was not locked up, but instead having some house arrest while awaiting an appeal. It clearly shows that I know nothing about the Iranian judicial system. Especially, as we learned from a phone call with his attorney, that his conviction was not on a legal basis, but on political grounds only. The latter is a concept very alien to us.

All in all, this not-a-film gave a limited inside view in a country we only know from newspapers. It was also a revealing inside view in an Iranian apartment, larger and better equipped than I had assumed beforehand. We can only speculate how he pays for all this, given the ban on his regular work. It shows (again) how little we know about Iran. My final conclusion is that I did not regret keeping my tickets for this not-a-film, though I was entitled for a substitute at choice out of the festival program.