It had been a long time since I had seen a theatrical production that filled me with as much excitement and pleasure as Arash. Throughout the performance, I was so captivated, so completely enchanted, that I felt transported into the ancient past of my homeland. I imagined myself among those who loved their country so deeply that the strength of Arash’s arms and the arrow he was about to release from his bow could make their hearts race and bring tears to their eyes.
(Arash, also known as Arash the Archer or Arash-e Kamangir, is one of the most beloved heroes of ancient Iranian mythology. According to the legend, following a devastating war between Iran and Turan, two rival kingdoms of ancient Iranian epic tradition, the opposing sides agreed that the flight of a single arrow would determine the boundary between their lands. Arash, a gifted Iranian archer, undertook the extraordinary task. In the best-known versions, he placed all his strength and life into the arrow, which traveled an enormous distance, reclaiming Iranian territory and bringing an end to the conflict at the cost of his own life. The story is traditionally associated with the ancient Iranian festival of Tirgan, celebrated in summer. Although the legend has deep roots in Iranian cultural history, it should not be confused with a historically documented event.*)
Ali Sarabi, drawing upon his valuable experience in theater and working with a large ensemble of popular and talented actors, has brought this ancient legend to the stage in a production of remarkable beauty and grandeur. Presented in Tehran, Iran, Arash is an ambitious theatrical and orchestral production that combines dramatic performance, live music, elaborate costumes, innovative stage design, and spectacular lighting. Every element, from the acting and direction to the music and visual presentation, demonstrates imagination, refinement, and exceptional artistic care. Yet what made this production particularly meaningful to me was its revival of one of the most powerful heroic legends in Iranian culture.
Arash has arrived on the Iranian stage at a time when the threat of war and foreign aggression casts a shadow over our homeland, making the preservation of Iranian history, culture, and national identity more important than ever. Under these circumstances, watching the story of a man who gives his life to save Iran creates an extraordinary emotional experience.
Unfortunately, over the years, from our school days to the present, we have neglected too much of this extraordinary cultural heritage. Arash succeeds beautifully in awakening our love for Iran. When you leave the theater, you feel prouder than ever to be Iranian.
The performance begins with two young children, a girl and a boy, who symbolize Iranian society and its future. They pick up a bow and enter the hollow trunk of a tree. Inside, the story of Arash is told to them, and we, the audience, enter with them into the enchanting world of this ancient Iranian legend. I loved this opening, but its true beauty becomes apparent at the end of the performance, when the same two children return, now dressed in school uniforms and carrying schoolbags as they prepare to attend their classes.
To me, this is one of director Ali Sarabi’s finest artistic decisions. A story that begins in the distant past is connected, through these children, to the present and the future. They represent a new generation of Iranians who must learn about the history of their homeland, take pride in it, and discover the meaning of peace and sacrifice through the lives of its heroes.
In this production, Arash is not simply a legendary hero. He is a man who loves life and love itself, who despises war, and who has no desire to kill another human being. Although he is an accomplished maker of bows and arrows, a craft passed down through generations of his family, he has little interest in using his skills to take lives.
It is precisely this contradiction that makes his character so fascinating. Arash does not seek glory through combat. He does not dream of becoming a celebrated warrior. When he finally decides to sacrifice his life to end the war, we understand the true greatness of his choice. And if I were asked to identify the greatest strength of this production, I would undoubtedly point to the extraordinary performance of Ali Shadman in the title role.
Casting Shadman as Arash was, in my opinion, one of the director’s wisest decisions. Physically, he bears little resemblance to the traditional image of a mythological hero, someone like Hercules or Rostam. (Rostam is the greatest legendary warrior of Iranian epic literature, especially Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh, or Book of Kings, composed around the beginning of the eleventh century. Renowned for his immense physical strength, heroic adventures, and loyalty to Iran, Rostam occupies a place in Iranian cultural imagination comparable in some respects to that of Hercules in Greek mythology. Arash, by contrast, is celebrated primarily for the extraordinary power of his arrow and his willingness to sacrifice his life for his homeland.)
When audiences hear the name Arash the Archer and think of his legendary act of patriotism, they may imagine a tall, heavily built, powerful man whose physical presence would immediately dominate the stage. Ali Shadman does not possess that imposing physique. And this, remarkably, makes both his performance and the character of Arash more compelling and believable. Rather than relying on exaggerated gestures or attempting to portray an invincible warrior, Shadman transforms Arash into a real human being. He is an ordinary man with his own emotions, fears, and attachments, suddenly confronted with an overwhelming responsibility.
In Shadman’s performance, we see Arash’s love of life, his fear of death, his uncertainty, and finally his courage in accepting his destiny. Through his expressive face, carefully controlled voice, and remarkably effective physical movements, Shadman communicates these emotional changes with striking naturalness, drawing the audience ever closer to the character. What impresses me most is that Shadman never depends on physical strength or heroic boasting to establish Arash’s greatness. His heroism lies in the decision he makes, and Shadman conveys this beautifully.
As the story approaches its conclusion, we become increasingly attached to this man, and his sacrifice grows more moving because we are no longer watching a distant, untouchable hero. We are watching someone who could have been any one of us. With his energy, sensitivity, and remarkable command of the role, Ali Shadman delivers one of his finest stage performances. A substantial part of the production’s success belongs to him.
Among the other performers, Maral Baniadam gives a deeply moving and remarkably restrained performance as a mother whose child has been killed in war. Her grief is communicated not merely through dialogue, but through her face, voice, and every movement of her body. Her lament for her dead child creates some of the most unforgettable moments of the entire production. The cries of this grieving mother seem to penetrate the very soul of the audience, temporarily separating us from the visual splendor of the stage and forcing us to confront the terrible reality of war.
Without exaggeration or artificial sentimentality, Baniadam conveys the devastating sorrow of a mother who has lost the most precious person in her life. For me, this is one of the most powerful scenes in the play, and her performance deserves the highest praise. The importance of this scene, however, goes beyond Baniadam’s exceptional acting. It is deeply connected to the meaning of the story itself. We frequently speak of wars, victories, and heroes, but unless we have become as insensitive as machines, we cannot forget the mothers who lose their children in those wars. This mother’s lament reveals the cruel and ugly face of war and helps us understand more fully why Arash opposes bloodshed. At this moment, the production reminds us that while sacrifice for one’s homeland may be honorable, war also destroys countless precious lives and irreplaceable human possibilities.
Tanaz Tabatabaei also gives a strong performance as Dina. (Dina is an important female character in this theatrical adaptation of the Arash legend. She should not be confused with a firmly established figure in the earliest surviving accounts of Arash’s mythical arrow shot. Her presence gives the stage production an intimate emotional dimension, exploring the tension between personal love and responsibility to one’s country.)
Dina is far more than a woman standing beside Arash. She is a complex and somewhat mysterious character whose presence influences both his emotions and his decisions. At times, she encourages him to fulfill his duty, while at other moments, her fear for his life makes her desperate to prevent his departure.
The presence of veteran actor Alireza Shoja-Nouri is another outstanding feature of the production. Drawing upon his considerable experience, measured delivery, and calm but commanding stage presence, he holds the audience’s attention without unnecessary movement or exaggeration. His performance becomes especially charming when we discover that he is actually a kindhearted grandfather who has dressed as a king to make the story more vivid and convincing for the children.
Hamid Sefat, portraying Afrasiab, is equally impressive. His extraordinary makeup, resonant voice, and powerful physique make him entirely convincing in the role. His physical presence and vocal strength correspond perfectly to the formidable character he portrays. (Afrasiab is one of the most important antagonists in ancient Iranian mythology. He is the legendary king of Turan and a principal enemy of Iran, appearing prominently in Iranian epic traditions, particularly the Shahnameh. Turan, in these legends, refers to territories associated with peoples to the north and northeast of ancient Iran, rather than a modern nation-state. In the story of Arash, Afrasiab’s invasion has devastated Iran and led to the territorial dispute that can only be settled by Arash’s extraordinary arrow. The conflict between Iran and Turan represents a recurring struggle in Iranian epic literature, although it also preserves distant cultural memories of historical conflicts between settled Iranian societies and peoples of the Central Asian steppes. Afrasiab himself is a mythological figure, not a ruler whose life can be established through reliable historical records.)
In a production dominated by live orchestral music, large-scale movements, and grand theatrical images, the ability of an actor to establish such a commanding presence is particularly valuable. The other performers also contribute to a well-coordinated and convincing ensemble, but for me, the performances of Ali Shadman and Maral Baniadam were the ones that continued to live in my memory long after the final curtain.
Director Ali Sarabi also deserves considerable admiration. Coordinating such a large cast with live orchestral music, elaborate group movements, constant scene changes, and extensive technical requirements is no simple undertaking. Sarabi has succeeded in creating a production of impressive scale and remarkable discipline without allowing its visual grandeur to overwhelm the audience’s emotional connection to the story.
The stage design by Mohsen Nasrollahi, lighting by Morteza Najafi, costumes by Shima Mirhamidi, and makeup and mask design by Babak Eskandari all contribute significantly to the production’s visual beauty. The transformations of the theatrical space through lighting and projected images are especially effective, while an extraordinary attention to detail is evident throughout.
Fardin Khalatbari’s music, performed live by an orchestra under the direction of Behnam Abolghassem, is another magnificent element of Arash. The music does far more than accompany the action. It deepens the actors’ emotions, intensifies the dramatic events, and becomes an essential part of the audience’s experience. In the epic sequences, the coordination between the orchestral score and the movements of the performers is so effective that it completely absorbs the audience.
There are, however, moments when I wished the director had allowed the emotional relationships between the characters more room to develop. Occasionally, the rapid transitions between scenes and the powerful presence of the music leave insufficient time for certain feelings to mature fully. Nevertheless, this is a relatively minor reservation about an otherwise extraordinary theatrical achievement.
One of the greatest qualities of Arash is its ability to revive one of the most beautiful legends of Iranian culture at a moment when we need, perhaps more than ever, to remember our history, cultural heritage, and national identity. Love for Iran and the determination to defend one’s homeland are not incompatible with opposition to war.
Indeed, Arash becomes such a great hero precisely because he does not love war. He does not wish to kill, yet he refuses to abandon his country and its people. He willingly sacrifices his life so that others may live in peace. This is the central beauty of the story, and the production communicates it with extraordinary emotional force, without resorting to slogans or empty patriotic speeches.
For me, the ending, when the children return in their school uniforms and prepare to leave for school, was one of the most beautiful moments of the entire performance. After all the excitement, sorrow, and sacrifice, we return to life itself. We return to children who deserve to grow up in peace, receive an education, and build the future of their homeland.
Arash was not merely a beautiful and magnificent theatrical performance for me. It was a reminder of the extraordinary richness of Iranian culture and of the remarkable artists our country continues to produce, even in these difficult times.
When I left the theater, I felt lighthearted, joyful, and deeply proud to be Iranian. And I found myself wondering: in how many other places in this world can artists, working with such limited resources, create a theatrical production of such imagination, beauty, and extraordinary artistic accomplishment?
