Iranian director Jafar Panahi made two masterpieces in the previous decade, The Circle (2000) and Offside (2006). His first masterpiece of this decade is certainly Taxi, a film he shot, directed, edited, and starred in despite being under house arrest and banned by the state of Iran from making films.

Because of these harassing conditions, one would expect Taxi to be a bit boring (what’s to really see?) and mostly admired for its heroic value (a big middle finger to the authorities). But such is not the case. Nor do you ever get a sense of the severe limits imposed on the film’s production. Within minutes of Taxi’s opening, all of the director’s political and legal troubles seem to melt into the buzzing air of the big Persian city.

Taxi is not an act of sadness but of joy—and not the joy of a good meal or getting a deal on an automobile. This is a humanist’s joy. Meaning, the film is about the joys of cinema, encountering strangers, philosophizing with friends, producing art, discussing politics, and just plain gossiping.

Though the camera never leaves the taxi, which is driven by Panahi, we don’t feel trapped in it. We instead feel as if the whole life of the city is flowing (entering and exiting) through the cab’s backseat. The movie has this as its final message to Iran and the world: It is impossible to confine the creative soul of this director.