It is entirely true that an acting career in cinema, theater, and television is limited and has an expiration date. Great and beloved stars, over time, drift away from lead young roles; and if they manage to retain some of their popularity over the years, they are cast as middle-aged characters, and in the third stage of their lives, they appear as grandmothers and grandfathers—until eventually, the force of time confines them to their homes. Of course, there are exceptions—figures who cannot be limited to any generation or era. Years may pass, and they may no longer appear on screen, nor be often seen in public, yet their popularity remains intact. And this popularity is not only preserved among their own generation but continues into the hearts of generations that followed. One such enduring figure is Ms. Pouri Banayi.
The first time I saw her was on stage at the Donyā Cinema in Arak. I was a sixth-grade student and had gone with my parents to see the film Aroos-e Farangi (“The Foreign Bride”). Outside the cinema, a large crowd had gathered to watch this comedy film, which, due to her appearance in it, was being screened in Arak simultaneously with Tehran. Ms. Banayi had come to Arak with the late Vahdat (Nosratollah Vahdat) to inaugurate the screening. I remember her mentioning that although Vahdat was from Isfahan, they were related by family. She also said that for her role as a foreign girl in the movie, she had personally cut off her long hair with scissors.
Most people in Arak knew her family. They would say: “She’s the daughter of Ali Agha Barqi…” Her father was the head of Arak’s electricity department and one of the most outstanding Tazieh (traditional Iranian religious play) reciters. He would perform the role of villains such as Shemr with such power and skill, and with a voice so resonant and awe-inspiring, that his roars would shake the marketplace and move audiences to tears. His intense negative role made the opposing, innocent characters appear even more tragic. People said he refused to play the role of saints in Tazieh, believing that only someone truly pure of sin should wear those costumes.
A few years before that, when I was six or seven, I had a small role as one of the two sons of Muslim ibn Aqeel in a Tazieh, and I had seen him during rehearsals at the home of Mr. Gāzerāni, one of Arak’s Tazieh directors. Pouri Banayi later said about her father’s Tazieh performances: “My father believed that we, as sinful humans, should not play the roles of great and infallible figures.”
In November 2015, after thirty-seven years of boycott, Pouri appeared on stage during an official cinema event (the Critics’ Association Night).
Her appearance on stage provoked a reaction from Kayhan newspaper.
Alireza Zarrindast, who had just won the Critics’ Jury Award for cinematography in Mazar-e-Sharif, came to the microphone with his trophy in hand and said: “I want to wipe the dust off a greeting, like a Zeiss lens, and dedicate it to Ms. Pouri Banayi and Nosratollah Vahdat…”
At that moment, the cameras of the Creativity Center zoomed in on Pouri’s tearful face. This veteran actress stood up, and the audience rose to their feet in her honor and applauded her warmly. A few moments later, she came on stage and said in a trembling voice: “I’m so happy that after thirty-seven years, I’ve been able to see my friends again.”
She had come on stage to present the award for Best Leading Actress, and with a choked voice added: “I really can’t believe that after thirty-seven years, I’m here on this stage at such an event. I’m happy to see so many respected figures from Iranian cinema present. I must apologize to you all for standing here today.”
Later that night, the late Fereshteh Taerpour, a well-known producer, addressed Hojatollah Ayoubi (then head of the Cinema Organization), saying: “For the film The Second Woman, I tried to cast Ms. Pouri Banayi as the mother, but the Cinema Deputy at the time didn’t approve. Our cinema needs to reevaluate and redefine certain issues. I request from the Cinema Organization to allow the return of all those whose hearts beat for the screen and this art form.”
That night reopened the file of a dignified actress who had been confined to her home for years and, despite her deep love for cinema, had not acted in any films.
In 1983, Mohammad-Ali Najafi invited her to collaborate on the television series Sarbedaran, but Pouri declined due to her parents’ illness. Later, when censorship tightened, no director dared to cast her in a role.
In the years after the revolution, she traveled abroad a few times. Despite receiving acting offers, she returned to Iran and never chose to live abroad. She participated in charity markets and traveled to towns struck by natural disasters, taking significant steps and remaining beloved by the people.
Throughout her career, she acted alongside famous and renowned actors such as Mohammad-Ali Fardin, Nasser Malek-Motiee, Iraj Ghaderi, and Behrouz Vosoughi, and worked with many of the great directors of Iranian cinema.
Her last film before the revolution was Maryam and Mani, directed by Kobra Saeedi.
These days, Ms. Pouri Banayi is mourning the loss of her older sister.
Cinema Without Borders (cinemabm.com) extends its heartfelt condolences to this precious star…
