"There are no bears. Nonsense! Stories made up to scare us! Our fear empowers others. No bears!"
A film director from Tehran (Jafar Panahi himself) is staying in a village near the Turkish border because of threats to his filmmaking. The docudrama he's filming from afar is about a couple looking to attain false passports to leave the country. Meanwhile, in the village, taking pictures and getting involved with local traditions is dangerous. For all the gentle ways of the culture, taking tea and talking politely, there is a sense of danger and oppressive claustrophobia. It could come from the old-fashioned villagers, who may get violent, the Revolutionary Guard, who ominously track movement, or the oppressive government. It's a situation that's as off-kilter as the room he's in near the end, which reminded me a little of the skewed angles of Van Gogh's Bedroom in Arles, signaling that all is not right in this world.
It seems that while there are no bears in a literal sense, there are indeed things to be frightened of, making the title a little ironic. Panahi can attest to that firsthand, jailed as he was two months before this film premiered, and still serving a six-year sentence. For that alone, the film carries with it a certain power, and Panahi is someone to admire. He also probed not only the limitations of his craft, but the possible dangers that he can expose others to in creating films or even taking pictures. There is a feeling of weary resignation here, though the ending signals that Panahi is not about to take the easy route and just drive away. For all its good points, though, the thing that held me back from loving this more was that the film within the film didn't do a lot for me, especially with the directions it took, which I thought were too distracting and a little muddled. With that said, I can see why it would be as deeply meaningful as it to others.
