Shahram Mokri’s Black Rabbit, White Rabbit

You know you’ve really messed up as a filmmaker when your Iranian colleagues look at you and think: “wow, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.” Congratulations Alec Baldwin. You are that person. The tragic negligence on the set of Rust will be referenced multiple times (but not by name) in this trippy Iranian-Tajikistani co-production. Cheekily, director-co-screenwriter Shahram Mokri also frequently name-drops “Chekhov’s Gun,” which all but guarantees somebody will pull the trigger eventually in Black Rabbit, White Rabbit, which is now playing in Chicago.

Technically, a gun fires off relatively quickly during the odd prologue, or rather fatally misfires. Presumably, that gun will soon be sent to Sara by her now deceased ex-torch-carrier, for protection against her abusive husband. However, she refuses to accept it, fearing her abusive husband’s wrath for a supposed spending spree. That launches an absurdist battle of wills between the unhappy couple and the deliveryman, who is duty and paperwork bound to convey the package safely into her hands.

Except, it is all just a scene in the film an Iranian film is shooting in Tajikistan. Somehow, his contemporary scene is part of a remake of a famous Iranian production from the 1970s, in which a crusading village leader is assassinated. Somehow, the cast and crew have been rehearsing this scene with a “prop” gun that Babak, the prop master and armorer, cannot vouch for. He is determined to get on set to inspect the pistol, but the production office had lost his badge. He is particularly alarmed when he watches the actor in question get fatally shot from a monitor off set.

Except, maybe not yet. Similar to Mokri’s Careless Crime, time lines constantly loop, intersect, and overlap in Black Rabbit. However, in addition to the temporal gamesmanship, the fictional storylines and the behind-the-lines “reality” also seem to interact in strange ways. It is sort of like what could have been if David Lynch remade Truffaut’s Day for Night.

Of course, that means the film’s confusing nature is intended to be all part of the fun. Sometimes it can be a little too postmodern for is own good, but Babak Karimi brilliantly anchors the film as his nervous namesake and as “Antonio,” as some crew-members seem to know him.

Careless Crime, on OVID.tv

The 1978 Cinema Rex fire in Abadan, Iran was sort of like the frequently misreported Gaza hospital bombings. In reality, it was committed by Islamist militants, but the Ayatollah and his fellow revolutionaries successfully blamed the Shah’s SAVAK. Even though the Shah was not responsible, it turned public opinion against him. Forty-some years later, history might repeat itself in Shahram Mokri’s Careless Crime, which premieres today on OVID.tv.

Time loops in very strange ways throughout Careless Crime. Visibly disturbed Takbali needs embargoed anti-depressants to medicate his anxiety stemming from his role in a notorious theater arson case that killed 400-some people. To meet a black-market contact, he visits the cinema museum, where he encounters an exhibit dedicated to the Cinema Rex tragedy. However, his pharmaceutical dealer connects him with three malcontents, whom the penniless Takbali must aid in their plans to burn down a local cinema, in lieu of payment.

Meanwhile, the theater staff takes every measure possible to create fire hazard conditions. Extra rows are added to the theater and the beverage overstock barricades the fire doors. It just gets worse and worse, despite the many repeated references to the Cinema Rex, from both patrons and employees.

However, the film-within-the-film, Careless Crime, is a bit of a puzzle. Supposedly, it depicts a senior Iranian military officer, who accidentally runs over his own daughter—hence the title—but from what the real-life audiences sees, it is an absurdist story about unexploded ordinance. Perhaps it was originally set during the Iran-Iraq War, but time has a way of jumping and slipping, throughout both Careless Crimes.

Admittedly, there are sequences that suggest Mokri and co-screenwriter Nasim Ahmadpour are trying to deliberately confuse the audience. However, each instance when time loops back around in the presumed-modern day theater, Mokri produces foreboding chills, palpably suggesting the terror on the verge of exploding. It is not exactly a traditional time-loop movie, but the tight construction of each coil will hold viewers attention like a vice. The choreography of entrances and exits is also just as meticulous as the most inventive sf loops, if not more so.