User reviews

In 'No Bears', Jafar Panahi plays a clever game with his viewers. We see a film about the making of a film. But is this film within the film really a film, or is it reality being filmed? It sounds terribly complicated, but it isn't.

Basically, 'No Bears' consists of two parallel stories, with Jafar Panahi, who plays himself, as connecting element. Panahi, who is not allowed to leave Iran, has rented a room in a tiny village close to the Turkish border. From there, he supervises the making of a film on the other side of the border. He tries to make internet connection with his crew, but the technology fails. No worries: his assistent can cross the border freely with a hard drive containing the rushes.

By coincidence, Panahi gets involved in a bitter conflict between two family clans in the village. This is the first story. It starts relatively calm with the request to erase a photo Panahi has made. The villagers are at first visibly embarassed to disturb their distinguished guest from Teheran. It is nice to see the contrast between the villagers, who live according to ancient traditions, and the sophisticated Panahi with his MacBook and modern cameras. The conflict gets more and more serious, and ends in a tragedy.

The controversial photo itself is never shown. Here, Panahi plays again with reality. The event he has photographed may or may not have happened. He never admits having taken the photo. What the villagers want, is the evidence of its existence, or non-existence. But how can you prove something doesn't exist?

The second story is the film Panahi is making, set in Turkey. It is about an Iranian couple trying to flee to Europe. But soon it appears that the movie doesn't follow a written script. The couple are not actors, but real life refugees, and the camera follows their attempts to get out of the country. Sometimes, the crew adresses Panahi directly through the camera. It seems the fourth wall is being broken, but at the same time it isn't because we are looking at the film within the film.

Both stories are about a couple in love, and both have unhappy endings. In one very unsettling scene, Panahi is accused by one of his 'actors' to adapt reality, in order to film a happy ending. This, of course, is exactly what film making is about. Panahi's decision to film not one, but two unhappy endings is probably inspired by the unhappy situation he himself and his country are in. Panahi has been harassed for years by the Iranian regime. He has recently been released from prison, after starting a hunger strike.

In spite of this, 'No Bears' is not a sombre movie. The events in the village are in a way very amusing and even funny. Panahi himself never loses his cool and confronts the villagers in his own way: with a camera.

The film "No Bears" starts off simple but becomes more complex as it progresses. Even if you're not familiar with the work of Kiarostami and Makhmalbaf, you can still enjoy it. The director, Panahi, mixes documentary-style and autobiographical elements to create a powerful emotional impact. Panahi, who is at the center of the film, is forced to confront the consequences of his work, both for himself and his collaborators. The final image of the film is sobering and resonates with the unspoken anguish of an artist exiled in his own country, who has had enough. It is clear that the director has little left to lose, and this makes "No Bears" one of the best movies of the previous year.

Telling the truth is difficult for Iranian filmmakers. You have Government control on one hand (the real tale of Panahi remotely directing a film being shot in Turkey while stationed on the borders of Iran as he is not allowed to leave the country) and you have quaint traditions on the other (in the Iranian villages on the border) that often lead to tragedy. However good your intent, the road is bumpy and leads you to a sad, nihilistic end. Intelligent filmmaking that captures the difficulty of renowned filmmakers to capture the Kafkesque ground reality in Iran and the frustrations of Iranian nationals today. Deserved the Special Jury Prize at Venice.

Director Jafar Panahi is midway in his imprisonment/house arrest in Iran, a victim of a relentless Islamic theocracy. That little matter hasn't kept him from making five films, sometimes using technology to direct remotely, for instance, his current "No Bears," in which he depicts himself directing a film within the film. Directing a Turkish town from a place near the Iranian border lends a romance to an otherwise mortally-dangerous enterprise.

His films show how he fights the restrictions of the regime on his art. All five in some way or another may reveal his oppression and lack of artistic autonomy. Panahi's films reflect his late mentor, Abbas Kiarostami, and his challenging tension between "narrative" and "documentary," when a camera seems to play between fiction and reality.

Because he hasn't been allowed to leave Iran for 10 years, his movies have a cachet usually relegated to an artistic outlaw: "This Is Not a Film," "Closed Curtain," "Taxi" and "3 Faces" are almost classics. New Yorker magazine says "No Bears" is one of the best dramas of the year, and they're right.

In No Bears, after a wild opening in which an exiled Iranian couple argue in the street about a corrupt passport and escape into Europe, we realize it's a scene from the movie he is remotely directing. Then we are thrown into a Romeo and Juliet mash up that leaves Panahi's director at the mercy of local forces, both official and citizenry, who lay tradition and family rumbling at his feet for a photo disc he allegedly has that would resolve a fight over an arranged marriage.

Panahi's director claims he has no such compromising photo of the couple, but he shows little respect for the local traditions inherent in the love affair. Underneath, of course, is his comment on cinema as a means of discerning truth in a culture of fake news. The scene of Panahi feverishly looking for cellphone reception smartly underscores the struggle to find truth.

At the least, No Bears is a profound statement about the power of filmmaking as it clashes with custom and reality. It is a masterful meta-fiction that tells a complicated cultural tale and the fraught participation of cinema. 80 for Brady it is not.

Film director Jafar Panahi is prohibited from leaving Iran, but is trying to make a film in neighbouring Turkey. In order to make that work, he moves to a remote village near the border, where the communications are a bit hit and miss. With the help of his obliging host "Ghanbar" (Vahid Mobaseri), though, he tries to make the best of it. Initially, it's a friendly village but when he takes (or doesn't!) a photograph of a young couple, he finds himself drawn into an increasingly acrid stand-off between two young men, and their families, to whom a girl may have been betrothed when her umbilical cord was cut. His frustrations with these encroachments are not helped by production difficulties with the two two stars of his documentary-style film - real life lovers who are trying to find a way to escape, safely, to Paris. There is the slightest hint of menace here as the plot develops and although we see little actual evidence, there is a distinct sense that this man is increasingly unwelcome, despite the platitudes from the villagers, encouraging a sixth-sense feeling that the authorities are distantly watching this film-maker. There is a distinct perception of intimidation! What is also clear is that these ordinary Iranian people live in fear of the police, the Revolutionary guard and that rather flies in the face of their genuine, peaceable and hospitable, nature. Now, perhaps Panahi's less-is-more style works for some, but for me I found this all rather a slow watch. He shuffles around with little useful dialogue to develop his on-screen persona, nor my interest in him. Clearly this is a story about freedom and a sort of subliminal oppression but somehow the characters themselves here didn't really develop that theme sufficiently, nor did they really engage me. The ending, too, is disappointing and inconclusive in equal measure and I was rather underwhelmed. The film does offer us an interesting depiction of rural life that probably hasn't changed in millennia, but somehow I felt little better than a fly on the wall with nowhere near enough to go on to join in. Perhaps just too much of this is predicated on a knowledge by the audience of this director and of his relationship with his government.

A masterfully crafted film that showcases the incredible talent of Iranian director Jafar Panahi. Despite facing constant harassment and a six-year prison sentence on baseless charges, Panahi continues to push the boundaries of cinema with his deeply personal and thought-provoking work.

In "No Bears," Panahi plays a fictionalized version of himself as he directs a film remotely from the Iranian village of Joban, near Turkey. When his WiFi goes out, he becomes intrigued by a local ceremony and loans one of his cameras to a villager to document it. The film then follows two parallel tracks: the story of Bakhtiar and Zara, which serves as a reconstruction of a real-life event, and the recording of the ceremony, which opens up a can of worms in the village as it is used as evidence against a young woman accused of having premarital relations.

Throughout the film, Panahi deftly explores themes of truth-telling, social activism, and the blurred lines between reality and fiction. The acting is superb, with Bakhtiar and Zara's tumultuous relationship feeling both realistic and emotionally charged. The cinematography and direction are also top-notch, with the film's remote setting adding to its sense of isolation and tension.

Overall, "No Bears" is a powerful and thought-provoking film that showcases the resilience and determination of its director. It is a must-see for fans of Panahi's work and anyone interested in the intersection of art and politics.

I'd never heard of Jafar Panahi prior to watching "No Bears" but the trailer looked interesting enough to give it a shot. Unfortunately this is one of those films where all of the action is stuffed into the trailer and what's left is a whole lot more slow-moving.

It's not that the film is boring per se but there's not really a story and not much happens. Instead it's a mockumentary (since Panahi plays himself) that flips between his time in a remote village and the film that he's making by proxy across the border in Turkey.

Points are being made about the lack of freedoms in Iran, the power of the government/military and how individuals are coerced into playing a role in the system. This isn't all that explicit though and doesn't really go anywhere - which is why it wasn't all that interesting for me as a non-Iranian.

In short I wasn't exactly bored while watching "No Bears" but after a while I did start glancing at my watch and I'm glad that it wasn't any longer!

Jafar Panahi is without a doubt one of the greatest filmmakers world wide and not even a prison sentence is enough to stop him from making masterful movies.

Like a true auteur, he makes a lot out of very little, telling a beautifully cinematographied and put together film with very few locations, mostly taking place in one village and a limited number of actors.

It all works perfectly with an incredible script, flawless editing and an important message characteristic of Panahi's filmmaking.

Truly one of the great films of the year, that is definitely recommended to give a watch for any lover of film.

"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.

The way Jafar Panahi successfully transcends and exceeds all the limits in his filmmaking always leaves me mind-boggled and is fascinatingly masterful. This viewing experience left me with a question "To what extent are you willing to go to tell your story?"

No Bears takes us through a powerful journey of sophisticated simplicity that expands boundaries and defies censorship restrictions both mentally and physically and in a blend of fiction and realism with a story of adaptive determination in creating, fear of crucial decisions, and passion for the story.

His ability to shape the narrative with all these elements is beyond impressive as Panahi sheds his lens on a parallel story between reality and fiction under the premise of hope, while metaphorically introducing a bigger political theme of the fear of modern authority versus the absurdity of the superstition that remains a common element in both narratives including the self-reflexively portrayal of himself as a character, which also introduces an intimate layer.

The storytelling crafts beautifully palpable emotions some of which are felt indirectly, where the sense of fear and threat are always visible and kept translating different feelings so well through an observative lens.

The movie "No Bears" has a sensitive and dramatic plot against the backdrop of political, religious, tradition, and cultural repression in the current Iranian world. There are two love stories told in parallel by the excellent director Jafar Panahi, who himself suffers military repression for his political movies that challenge the dictatorial Iranian government. Jafar Panahi manages to capture and transmit all the tension that Iranians suffer under the eyes of the so-called Cultural Police. We sense the pressure in the air and nobody wants to compromise or get involved or close to citizens considered traitors to the country and to the traditional customs.

Like many other incredible Iranian movies, "No Bears" is second to none in terms of quality. Simple in showing the daily life of a village and the background of filming a movie, but also bold in showing us what it's like to live in a repressive regime and not bend.

Unsurprisingly, this isn't one I've heard of - such entries tend to be either surprisingly good or absolutely up themselves with the critics are just showing off they've heard of them. And, unfortunately, the fact that the director of this is now in jail suggests the latter - but here's hoping, eh?!?

Well - "complex metafiction" doesn't really begin to describe what we've got here. In real life, Jafar Panahi is a director who is banned from making films and leaving the country. And, in this film, he plays a director who is banned from making films and leaving the country - and he's making a film featuring two actors who are planning on leaving the country. Except that, as the film progresses, it turns out that it's more of a documentary because they really are planning to leave the country. Hilarity ensues!

Well, no - not really. I'd have to say I found the whole thing very confusing - partly due to the uber-meta nature of it all and also due to the very alien existence of all involved, particularly in the scenes shot in the village of Jaban, where Jafar goes to (spectacularly unsuccessfully) lay low from the authorities. I'm not sure whether it's Jafar's acting ability or inability that comes to the fore here but he also seems thoroughly confused by the place - I suspect it's the latter, but I'm happy to give him the benefit of the doubt. Considering the rest of the cast, I've absolutely no idea whether they are actors, film crew or complete amateurs - let's just say the performances are "natural" (they certainly don't feel out of place in the overall confusion).

Surprisingly, given the overall confusion involved, there are actually no bears involved, but it is an interesting title, because the threat of bears is used to scare people away from various areas when there have never been any bears - but there are actually many worse things than bears which people just have to accept or ignore, until they are no longer able to do so.

It does, to some extent, manage to reach a conclusion but I'd struggle to say I found it, or any of the film, particularly satisfactory - yes, it's a very worthy entry and Jafar has to be commended for his dedication to the craft, but for me that doesn't make it a great film (although I accept it didn't do me any harm to be educated in various areas). It will be interesting to see whether I fare any better with the next Iranian film on the list, which continues the confusingly meta theme because it's directed by Jafar's son (who is merely in exile) and is about a family's trip to the border, attempting to leave the country...

At the time of writing, this film is available to stream on The Criterion Channel (I swear each new film brings up a new streaming subscription service) and to rent in all the usual locations, but I really don't think I can wholeheartedly recommend it.

A most excellent movie ! Thoroughly enjoyed it. For sure there were many layers and implicit meanings I missed but that is also what made this film so intriguing. The contrast between the mountain town in Iran and the city in Turkey, all the details, the character extras that clearly showed the cultural differences, I loved that. The border, the trafficking that was implied, the faithfulness to truth of the central actor who is also the director. It's also a movie that celebrates movie making, how storytelling prevails in film, the impact of a story upon the storyteller. It´s a very poignant movie.

Wonderful footage in a documentary style, great story, amazing insight into life on the frontier.

Well worth seeing.

There won't be any bears, but there are eyes watching everywhere, in a small village on the Iranian border. There is also a people submissive to anachronistic traditions, to an invisible power, but very present in the skin and spirit of all. There is still a corrupt system, which feeds with impunity on contraband, of goods and people.

Even on the Turkish side of the border the nightmare continues, until a miracle happens. Or a tragedy puts an end to the suffering of the fugitives.

After being arrested, banned from filming and barred from leaving the country, Jafar Panahi resists as best as he can, with a camera in his hands. A camera that witnesses reality, and not the fiction that some want to pass off as truth.

A director who would like to have a happy ending for his films. But reality does not allow it and death pursues opponents of the regime and tradition, who want to escape coercion, tyranny, imprisonment and torture.

After all, maybe there really are bears, which are running around and killing people, within the Iranian borders.

This is my first film from Jafar Panahi and as far I can see from this one, he is continuing that respectable tradition Abbas Kiarostami instated in Iranian cinema to make meta-films about and around cinema where the director is a pivotal character in the film and is somewhat a fictionalized biopic about a directors life.

I always appreciate movies like this that blend cinema and real life. Or blend the real of life with the magic of cinema...turning it into real-magic. Of course, Iranian cinema is not about spectacle, and neither is this one...it's more about the entanglements of life, freedom and tradition.

In "Closed Curtain" (2013) Panahi already used metaphor as a narrative tool to comment on his professional ban (amazingly, he never stopped making films all this time, and only after this one he got arrested). Ten years ago, he also fled to a reclusive location where he interacted with characters who may or not have been figments of his imagination. It was a comment on what this isolation did to his psyche and confused many viewers.

Now, he is again in a remote location but becomes embroiled in a local feud. While directing a film crew on the other side of the border via laptop, he is at first courteously, then menacingly asked to hand over a picture he is supposed to have taken. His claims of never having done that are not believed until a Kafkaesque town hall scene, where he takes a vow in front of the village elders. Yet both the couple he intends (?) to protect and the couple he directs across the border - playing out their real story - meet a tragic end.

As in "Closed Curtain", some plot elements represent fantastic realism like the trip to the border which he did not intend to, and that the film crew in Turkey is working in a town on a shore, when the only body of water there is Lake Van, 100 km from the nearest checkpoint. The story makes no sense whatsoever, a refugee couple trying to emigrate to the West would be in Istanbul, not in the far east. The presence of an outsider in a border town would alert authorities much sooner. Whether or not to accuse a couple to have an illicit relation would rely on testimonials and not on a picture. But the village, the film, the conflict might all be a dream - in fact, that is the only explanation that makes any sense.

Therefore, viewers should focus on their feeling of growing discomfort and detachment. Panahi is trying once again to communicate what his bizarre situation feels like. And once again, he will reach some of his viewers who can let go of expectations, and he will lose others who believe that a film should have structure and a decipherable meaning.