The Iranian actress, who has been in exile in France since 2008, won the female interpretation award in Cannes. An anointing for this rebellious artist who dreams of making a film about her extraordinary fate.
She wowed the Cannes Film Festival jury for her role Nights of Mashhad *, by Iranian-born Dane Ali Abbasi. At 41, Zar Amir Ebrahimi plays a journalist investigating the murder of sixteen prostitutes in the holy city of Mashhad. Little known in France, where she lives in exile, the Iranian actress is a legend in her own country. His Instagram account has nearly 500,000 subscribers. When he walks in Istanbul (Turkey), Iranian tourists who recognize him on the street bow at his feet. And for good reasons. he was a rising star in Iranian cinema before a sex tape scandal forced him to flee Tehran to avoid prison. His compatriots, lovers of myths and poetry, compare him to the Phoenix rising from the ashes. Burnt alive, managed to get up. And discover yourself.
In the video, Nights of Mashhad the teaser
Miss Figaro. – Did you expect to receive this award?
Zar Amir Ebrahimi. – I feel like I’m dreaming. If I look back, everything that happened to me in Iran, my exile in France, the difficulties also during the shooting of this film, it is like a miracle. Especially since I was not destined to play the role for which I had the interpretation award. When director Ali Abbasi contacted me in 2018 to work Nights of Mashhad, as a casting director. I auditioned over 300 people for this role, including fifty actresses. Two weeks before the start of filming in Jordan, the chosen actress, who lives in Tehran, panicked. He refused to fly, fearing that the Islamic regime would prevent him from returning. We were devastated. Ali looked at me and said: Shall we try with you?
A role that you immediately accepted?
Of course! After four years of working on the preparatory work for the film, I felt that I knew this character by heart. It was not won in advance. my fragile appearance was no match for this reporter’s bully. But after several rehearsals and script changes, Ali gave me the role. Besides, I knew the news that inspired this fiction. It was in 2001. I was living in Tehran and everyone was talking about the murders of prostitutes in Mashhad. What’s worse is that some people approved of the killer. As an Iranian this story speaks to me. Also as a woman. Violence against women is unfortunately universal. While documenting this role, I also became aware of sexual harassment by journalists in Iran. I talked to some of them. They recently made a video to break this taboo. Today it is important to talk. Cinema can contribute to this.
Is this history of harassment and humiliation a little bit yours?
My life in Iran was shattered overnight by a home video stolen from my laptop that went viral in 2006. I was in shock. A few months ago, we filmed ourselves having sex with my ex-boyfriend, and we thought we had deleted the footage. We were young, innocent. Immediately the threats started pouring in. In the Islamic Republic of Iran, where sex outside of marriage is prohibited, my daily life has become hell. I was subjected to the worst humiliations: virginity tests, calls to the police, court. They were invading my privacy by calling my friends to interrogate them. My friend was sentenced to ninety lashes just for shaking my hand. My career was ruined. after my success in the very popular series, Narges, I could no longer act in any film. I converted to editing, but they quickly annoyed my colleagues. Then I started taking photos. But on the day of my exhibition, a guy came to sell video DVDs on the sidewalk in front of me. Two days later, the police closed the gallery. They wanted to prevent me from living, breathing, and pushing me to commit suicide. When I was summoned to my trial in early 2008, my lawyer and my parents convinced me to flee Iran. I risked too much, years of imprisonment. France offered me asylum. I left unwillingly. I love my country. I never imagined becoming a refugee.
One hundred years of Iranian woman’s beauty in one minute
I had the right to the worst humiliations: virginity tests, calls to the police, court.
Zar Amir Ebrahimi
A drama you’d like to adapt to film one day?
As I said in my speech at Cannes, cinema saved me. I mean it sincerely. After all these difficulties, living under surveillance, jumping from one call to another, I told myself: one day I will make a film. I had the impression of playing a role, doubling myself. Staying alive meant lying. to my interrogators, one of whom kept harassing me, to the judge, whom I denied having filmed this video. During this time I was doing my own investigation. wanted to know who leaked these pictures. When I realized who it was, I went to the judge. I told him. “I have a connection. If you find this person, I’ll admit it’s me in the video. “When they arrested the person responsible (an Iranian actor who died of cancer, editor’s note), the judge called me back. And there I completely denied everything again. I wanted to protect my parents, my family. Years later, in 2019, when my life was rebuilt in France, I was invited to MBC’s Farsi show for a movie launch. Tomorrow we will be free, by Hossein Purseifi, in which I acted. The host asked me a question. And then it just came out. I opened everything. For the first time, I told everything in the smallest detail. It had the effect of a bomb. I have received thousands of messages of support. Hate too. But I freed myself from the weight.
Fear, danger, exile… concepts that you have integrated since your childhood.
I was born in Tehran, two years after the revolution (1979) and the seizure of power by the clerics, and one year after the start of the Iran-Iraq war (1980-1988). These shocks are part of me. We lived day by day between life and death, laughter and tears. As a child, I learned the alphabet on television, because the school had to be closed for a year. Like all children, I liked this idea of staying at home. Just as I loved this game of hiding in the shelters, in the basement, as soon as the sirens announced the bombing. But I will never forget the day when I knocked my girlfriend while running up the stairs in a panic. He broke both legs and I never saw him again. I still carry this guilt today. I also remember the evening when my cousins fled Iran forever for fear of being drafted into the army. And then, we were under constant surveillance. Outside, the vice squad was walking around. As soon as we left the house, we had to talk as little as possible and hide. Once we were driving a car with my mother. He took off his gloves for a minute. A police car passed by. She was arrested and accused of displaying nail polish. It traumatized me at the time.
Have you always wanted to make movies?
I had the opportunity to take a very small bath in the middle of the cinema. Pure coincidence. We lived in Tehran in the same building as the great director Hamid Samandaryan and his wife, film actress Homa Rusta. Their son was my age. I spent a lot of time with them, where I saw big names of theater and cinema. I quickly wanted to become a director. Samandaryan told me. “If you want to make films, you must first know how to act.” On his advice, I took acting classes at the university. I acted in the first film, which was never broadcast due to censorship. Then I got roles in TV series that made me famous. Narges, a kind of family drama, met with extraordinary success. On summer evenings when it aired, people rushed home not to miss a single episode. There were even outdoor demonstrations in the parks of Tehran. I was at the peak of my career. I was going to start shooting a new movie. But the video scandal gave way to everything.
A year ago I was a star in my country and now I find myself babysitting little girls pulling their hair out.
Zar Amir Ebrahimi
How was integration in France?
With great difficulty! At first I was very alone. I had to rebuild myself, start over, learn the language. I chained jobs to survive. A year ago I was a star in my country and now I find myself babysitting little girls pulling their hair out. One day, when I was working in a restaurant, an Iranian friend recognized me. He offered me to work on the cultural pages of his newly launched webzine. Then I started collaborating with the BBC in Persian. I played in several films in parallel. Taboo of Tehran, Bride price versus democracy…
The authorities in Iran have compared ItNights of Mashhadto: satanic passages, by Salman Rushdie (then covered by a fatwa). Did you expect such a harsh reaction?
Since the Cannes Film Festival, everyone has been criticizing it: Iran’s film organization dependent on the Ministry of Culture, the Friday prayer imam in Mashhad, the pro-government media, not to mention the barrage of insults on social media. They accuse the film of being biased, giving a distorted image of Iranian society, and insulting Shia Islam. But they are relying on rumors and not a movie they haven’t even seen. The paradox is that there is nothing more real than this movie because it is inspired by a very real story that happened in Iran twenty years ago.
What will this price change for you?
I take it as an encouragement to continue, for me, but also for other women, other artists, other exiles. Professionally, it will push me to be more selective in my choices. I hope to be able to be accepted into other cinema, outside of the immigrant or foreigner roles that people have tended to ascribe to me. There, I’m about to head to Australia for a feature film by Iranian-born filmmaker Noura Niasari, co-produced by Cate Blanchett. It’s a gritty but essential film about battered women in which I play the lead role. And finally, I dream of making my own film inspired by my story.
*Released on July 13.
Source: Le Figaro
