The cake in question does not fill much of this wonderful film but it is pivotal.
The circumstances of the film's making, of its being digitally smuggled from Iran and winning prizes, has been widely publicised - and is unlikely to change its subject, which is the suppression of women there. Not that these ninety minutes are didactic. The plot is simple. Neither a widow nor a taxi driver (a veteran) whom she overhears in a café has known passion in decades. She contrives to have him ferry her to her house, and invites him in (careful of the neighbours' eyes and tongues). To say anymore would spoil it. You might well guess what is in prospect as they talk. Slow, it never drags, but draws the viewer into the teling of lives which have been a case of forever surmounting inherent disappointment.
Let this not be thought the stuff of despair. There is a relish of life, so much so that the cake makes its celebratory appearance.
What else does it herald after the taxi driver takes a shower? Why did he stop at a pharmacy en route? What happens after the credits roll?
Here is a film to keep viewers themselves talking.