Sordid Realism

JAFAR PANAHI'S TAXI (A-minus) - In his third fine renegade movie in a row, banned Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi finally leaves his apartment and poses as a cabdriver in Tehran, surreptitiously shooting in broad daylight.

Panahi has defied Iranian authorities since his 2010 arrest by managing to continue producing movies and getting them smuggled into distribution. He depicted his house arrest in 2011's "This Is Not a Film," followed two years later by the autobiographical drama "Closed Curtain." Here he is liberated from his claustrophobic home and basking in sunshine and companionship. He takes credit for every aspect of production and stars along with an anonymous cast of characters that pop in and out of his taxi. The joyful, playful tone is a 180-degree turn from that of the two previous efforts.

The result is an incredibly self-referential meta experiment in storytelling. While it has the feel of the HBO documentary "Taxicab Confessions" (almost all the shots are from dashboard cameras, with a few hand-held camera images supplementing it), "Taxi" is almost certainly populated by actors. Early on, one of them suggests to Panahi with a wink that the previous passengers sharing the cab were actors in a secret film project. That same man also traffics in bootleg DVDs, a sly nod to Panahi's own underground endeavors in defiance of the government. Numerous references name-check Panahi's oeuvre (which includes the features "White Balloon" and "Crimson Gold"), and characters comment on the director's outlaw antics.

Panahi is the bemused anchor as wacky events unfold around him -- a man and woman bicker as they share a ride; Panahi's own niece (a dynamic child actor), whom he picks up from school, sasses him; a bloodied man lying in the back seat in his wife's arms voices his last will and testament into the camera. In one expert bit of slapstick, two elderly women carrying fish sloshing around in a fishbowl, demand that Panahi speed them to a most urgent appointment.

But underlying it all is a searing gravitas and a thoughtful commentary on Iranian society. The documentary feel and deep inhales of a vibrant city call to mind the landmark work of Godard in Paris in the '60s and Woody Allen in New York in the '70s and early '80s. (A character here refers to Panah's work as "sordid realism.") And it all zips by in 82 minutes that seem more like 41 minutes. The time flies by.

But Panahi is not just out for a lark here. The final scene manages to come off as both mundane and chilling at the same time. Like he did in 2011 with "This Is Not a Film," this master filmmaker unleashes one of the great endings of the year. Let's see where he takes us next.

STAND CLEAR OF THE CLOSING DOORS (2013) (B) - Alternatively fascinating and frustrating, this modest feature follows autistic Ricky as he flees the dysfunction of his home and embarks on an adventure on New York's subway system oblivious to the search for him by family and police.

This is an apparent labor of love by a bunch of new names and faces. Sam Fleischner, a young cinematographer/director corrals a cast of newcomers in the three main roles of Ricky (Jesus Sanchez-Velez); his distraught mother, Mariana (Andrea Suarez Paz); and his rude, anorexic brat of a sister, Carla (Azul Zorrilla), with some mixed results. Paz's expressive face is a rich tableau here, as Mariana struggles to keep her family together; her kids are more than a handful, her husband is away on a mysterious venture, and she must keep up with her job cleaning rich people's houses.

Fleischner alternates between Mariana's dark, claustrophobic, fearful existence and Ricky's expansive, colorful new world ensconced in New York's vast melting pot. The director, working with a story by another newcomer (Rose Lichter-Marck), aims to capture Ricky's skewed perspective and overwhelmed senses as he slips mostly un-noticed among the circus-like inhabitants of the city's underground. Ricky locks onto a faceless young man who wears cool sneakers, following behind whenever they cross paths.

A few film-school camera tricks come off as trite, but for the most part Fleischner nudges his camera intimately into the faces of the subway riders. It's not clear if any of the dozens of characters are actually actors; this could easily be a documentary about mass-transit passengers. We witness crazy antics as well as quiet, tender moments -- one rider clipping another's fingernails, Ricky helping a one-armed seatmate by zipping up his hoodie.

The movie sags during most of Mariana's sad-sack scenes, especially the bickering with Carla, whose job it was to walk Ricky home from school every day. Mariana befriends a local shoe-store manager, Carmen (TV actress Marsha Stephanie Blake), who helps her post fliers around their Rockaway Beach neighborhood. Ricky's dad eventually shows up, but the climactic scenes between husband and wife fall mostly flat.

What's exciting here is Ricky's journey, his overwhelming immersion into society, the need to fend for himself. All else gets drawn out way too long. At 102 minutes, no one would complain if at least 20 minutes were carved away. In fact, this plays like a short film expanded to feature length. Whenever the camera is below street level, it's a trip.

BONUS TRACK
Played as a snippet over the beginning of the end credits of "Stand Clear," the hypnotic"Melody, the Prism" by Zomes (a.k.a., Asa Osborne):