Hit the Road is a family road movie from Iran - and yes, it is a comedy.
I've been regularly surprised by the films of Iran. You expect stories - and veiled criticisms, maybe - of religious intolerance, and then you're confronted with films as urbane, sophisticated and westernised as A Separation, The Salesman and A Hero.
But suddenly the events of the past weeks shake you out of those comfortable ideas too. So where does a film like Hit the Road fit?
Hit the Road boasts one of the year's most arresting beginnings. A car radio plays a classical piano piece, a small boy mimes on a keyboard he's drawn on his father's plaster cast leg. Mother and older brother look worried in the front.
They're parked by a motorway in the desert waiting for something. What can it be?
They're waiting for a phone call, releasing them to take off on a clearly hazardous - or at least illegal - enterprise. And when the phone rings, it all kicks off - in particular the Kid Brother who starts talking and doesn't stop throughout the film.
"Onward!" he yells, and we're off on a road movie that takes the family from one end of Iran to the other - first the desert, then fertile plains, rocky terrains and finally, misty mountains where you can barely see your hand in front of your face.
It's clearly been a family decision, but one that the Kid - none of the characters seem to have names, just descriptions - has been left out of.
We should tell him, says the Mother. What sort of upbringing are we giving him? Just endless lies, lies, lies…
The Father reminds her what he's like. Tell him anything, and it'll be round the neighbourhood in half an hour.
Dad has not only got a broken leg - in slightly mysterious circumstances - but he's also broken both wrists.
Half the movie he's trying to negotiate a cigarette lighter, and the other half he's reminding the Older Brother how to drive the car. Seatbelt, rearview mirror, look both ways…. The Brother can't wait to get out.
Which is what's happening. The older son is being sent - or allowed, it's not quite clear - overseas to seek his fortune.
The parents have sold up everything - the car they're driving is a rental, which is why Dad is so paranoid that the young Kid will scratch it.
Dad clearly knows his son. As they pass a group of cyclists, the Kid rolls down the window to talk to them.
Distracted, one rider smashes into the side of the car. Hard to know which one is more dented. He's crying, says the Kid. If he's crying he's OK, says Dad nervously. Let's get out of here.
Hit the Road has all the character subtleties - and slow release of information - we've come to expect from Iranian films. But it's also very funny, which I'm less used to.
And when the car finally pulls up in front of a squad of rather sinister-looking people-smugglers, and the Kid leaps out with a friendly "Hello villagers!" it's hard not to be reminded of other road movies like Little Miss Sunshine.
The Kid is astonishing. He's an infuriating force of nature - struggling, shouting, arguing, lip-synching favourite songs, getting in the way - until suddenly you realise he's also the warm, beating heart of the movie.
He has absolutely no filter - unlike his Brother who is all filter until he finally opens up to his Father in one gorgeous seven-minute shot by a river. Watch out for a perfectly timed flock of birds behind them!
Hit the Road is gorgeous in so many ways - partly because it's so unexpected, particularly now.
My favourite moment is when Mum tries to keep a brave face after a string of mishaps, near-misses and disasters.
One day, she tells the monosyllabic Brother, we'll look back on this and laugh. 'Seriously?', he asks?
