For much of the film, we follow two other women, Arezou (Maryiam Parvin Almani) and Nargess (Nargess Mamizadeh), both just released from prison, as they try to leave Teheran. They are trying to get to Raziliq, Nargess' home village, but don't have the money for the fare. They have to find somewhere to stay before evening, or else they risk being arrested again...

Jafar Panahi began his career as an assistant to Abbas Kiarostami, and the latter wrote the script for Panahi's first feature The White Balloon. That probably remains his finest film, managing to create compelling drama out of the story - told in real time - of a young girl's attempts to buy a goldfish. The Circle is his third feature (The Mirror came in between): an Iranian/Italian co-production, it took three years to make and earned Panahi the authorities' official displeasure. However, it won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. Filmed with hidden cameras on the streets of Teheran (cinema vérité and Italian neo-realism are strong influences on the current new wave of Iranian cinema), The Circle is a work of anger tempered with a realisation that this is reality, but is a film not without hope. The prison is a metaphor for the situation that the women are in: one formed by patriarchal attitudes and bureaucracy and age-old and unchanged tradition.

The film starts out with a bang, with the capture of Cho Myong-gu (Jeong Wung-in), a multiple murderer who has feasted on six women. A painter by trade, Cho likes to draw colorful abstract patterns on his victims' bodies before his meal.

So what makes this artistically inclined cannibal tick? The movie spends a large part of its 110 minutes on that question, with the attorneys arguing over the killer's sanity. The prosecutor (Kang Su-yeon), a tough no-nonsense woman who literally butts heads to get her way, is aiming for the creep's death sentence.

The defense attorney (Chon Chae-ryong), on the other hand, makes a rather unusual argument on behalf of his client. He contends that Cho is possessed by the soul of Gwang-rim, who in the 1930s was involved in a deadly affair with a "kisaeng" (Korean for geisha). In his attempt to convince the judge, the attorney seeks the help of psychics, hypnotists and a wealth of circumstantial evidence that would be thrown out of most courts.

Though ludicrous, these courtroom scenes are in fact the most entertaining part of the film; the analytical arguments about the supernatural could have come from a lost "X-Files" episode. There's also a strong tabloid sensibility about all of this, with a matching pair of severed genitals playing a very important part in the film.

Keeping the film together is Jung's portrayal of the psycho, who, if one looks past his perversions, could be one of the nicest and sweetest serial killers around. Known as a comedic actor, Jung seems to really be enjoying himself in this semi-serious role, and his enthusiasm keeps this movie going.

Somewhere near the halfway point, the movie begins to take itself seriously, at the expense of the plot and the audience. Without notice, "Circle" suddenly decides that it's a romance _ never mind the six women Cho has already digested _ and proceeds to go back in time to tell the story of the ill-fated lovers.

By trying too hard to explain its supernatural elements, "Circle" suffers from the same problems that sank the recent "Sainyong Shiktak (The Uninvited)," which also mixed the horror-film genre with Korean traditional ghost tales. It's too bad, because with a bit more humor, the film could have been an entertaining B-movie.