A palm with a special significance
written by Alexandra Touchard
It Was Just an Accident, by Iranian director Jafar Panahi, was awarded the Palme d’Or on Saturday, May 24, beneath the glowing spotlights of the Grand Théâtre Lumière, during the 78th edition of the Cannes Film Festival. A richly deserved prize, accepted with deep emotion under the admiring gaze of his talented cast: Vahid Moshaberi, Maryam Afshari, Ebrahim Azizi, Hadis Pakbaten, Madjid Panahi, and Mohamad Ali Elyasmehr. This marks the first Palme d’Or for Iran since Taste of Cherry in 1997.
This award carries a special significance. Let us recall that Jafar Panahi was sentenced to six years in prison by the Iranian judiciary in 2010, as his films were deemed propaganda against the regime. He was released in 2023 following a hunger strike.
Jafar Panahi with the Golden Palm
Maryam Afshari and Mohammad Ali Eliyas during the closing ceremony of Cannes Festival 2025
Iran’s Waiting for Godot
It Was Just an Accident premiered in Cannes Festival.Though it made a discreet appearance on the red carpet, the work speaks entirely for itself.
The film opens with an ordinary, almost trivial accident. And yet, it quickly reveals its symbolic weight, perceived by the characters as a bad omen. From this unfortunate event unfolds the wild and morbid road movie that makes up the film’s narrative arc.
Without saying too much about the plot, it must be said that the film’s writing is remarkably rich — a near-pastiche of The Hangover, blending absurdist humor with deep human tragedy.
The story is steeped in doubt, in a constant undercurrent of suspense. It holds profound social, political, and symbolic meaning, portraying characters bruised by the excesses of an extremist political regime. Each figure is brilliantly portrayed — their personal histories, their emotional depths, their traumas, and their place within a broader political tableau are all richly explored.
This group, traveling in a battered work van, accompanied throughout by a half-dead body, both entertains and moves us — shaking us deeply, irreversibly.
Panahi’s direction consistently serves the film’s message. He plays with silence, with wide, empty desert landscapes, with the audience’s waiting — a waiting that mirrors that of the characters, themselves trapped in muteness, indecision, and the inability to act.
Though framed as a road movie, the film speaks above all of stillness. Of individuals confronted with a political system that confines and stifles. In fact, the dominant visual motif is often a closed space — the inside of the van.
I went to the 11 a.m. screening without any particular expectations, assuming I’d nod off. And yet, the film immediately swept me away with its evocative power, its cinematic craft, and its dark humor — able to laugh at the gravest things through characters who, despite their pain, remain tender.
