Some of his interviews
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Reza Shirmarz (2001, Tehran, Iran)
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With Reza Shirmarz,
Translator of Ancient Greek and Roman Comedies
Hamshahri Newspaper (Feb, 2003)
Translator of Ancient Greek and Roman Comedies
Hamshahri Newspaper (Feb, 2003)
For many years, ancient Greek and Roman comedies were among the missing pieces long felt in the landscape of Iranian theater, until the year 2001, when The Grouch by Menander was published in Persian thanks to the efforts and translation of Reza Shirmarz. Following that, five comedies by Aristophanes and twenty comedies by Plautus were translated in three volumes in 2002 for theater enthusiasts. Dr. Ataollah Koupaal, theater instructor and editor of Shirmarz’s translations, writes the following about this active and young translator in the introduction to The Bad-tempered by ancient Greek comedy writer and the father of New comedy Menanderus: "At times, it seems that some people have come into this world specifically to accomplish a monumental task. Reza Shirmarz is one of them." Born in July 1974 in Tehran, Shirmarz studied insurance management at the International C.O.E. University in Tehran. His deep passion for theater led him to the world of play translation. Now, alongside the publication of this book, he has translated the complete works of Aristophanes, the fifth-century BCE playwright, as well as the works of Plautus and Terence, the renowned comic playwrights of the second and third centuries BCE in ancient Rome. Without a doubt, Reza Shirmarz’s dedication to the translation of dramatic literature will leave a profound impact on the theater of our land.
Reza Shirmarz became a translator of dramatic texts by coincidence. Of course, his interest in theater dates back to childhood, and during his teenage years, he showed enthusiasm for reading plays and participating in theatrical activities. However, he had never seriously thought about writing, until his military service. During that time, his daily shuttle passed by Tehran's City Theater. One day, he decided to get off the shuttle and visit the library or documentation center there. He became a member of the City Theater Library with the simple intention of reading plays, since the library had access to numerous scripts he couldn’t find elsewhere. The library also had a Latin section, and he became drawn to the Latin texts. After reading several works, his attention turned to the plays of Euripides. Being already somewhat familiar with Euripides’ work, he decided to translate some of them into Persian. Euripides wrote twelve plays, six of which have been translated so far. Shirmarz was the first to translate Iphigenia in Tauris into Persian, but unfortunately, that manuscript and his translation were stolen from him. After that experience, he moved away from tragedy. Up to that point, he had also translated three plays by Aeschylus, which still exist in his archive.
Reza Shirmarz became a translator of dramatic texts by coincidence. Of course, his interest in theater dates back to childhood, and during his teenage years, he showed enthusiasm for reading plays and participating in theatrical activities. However, he had never seriously thought about writing, until his military service. During that time, his daily shuttle passed by Tehran's City Theater. One day, he decided to get off the shuttle and visit the library or documentation center there. He became a member of the City Theater Library with the simple intention of reading plays, since the library had access to numerous scripts he couldn’t find elsewhere. The library also had a Latin section, and he became drawn to the Latin texts. After reading several works, his attention turned to the plays of Euripides. Being already somewhat familiar with Euripides’ work, he decided to translate some of them into Persian. Euripides wrote twelve plays, six of which have been translated so far. Shirmarz was the first to translate Iphigenia in Tauris into Persian, but unfortunately, that manuscript and his translation were stolen from him. After that experience, he moved away from tragedy. Up to that point, he had also translated three plays by Aeschylus, which still exist in his archive.
The Lasting Impact of Aristophanes and the Evolution of Comedy
Aristophanes (446–386 BC)
About a decade ago, Shirmarz had become familiar with the works of Aristophanes. But back then, due to his limited proficiency in both the source and target languages, he was advised by one of his professors not to pursue translating them. Still, he felt a special attraction toward comedy and ultimately decided to focus exclusively on translating comedic works. In his view, our contemporary world is in dire need of comedy. Most of Aristophanes’ works, after 2,500 years, were revived and staged in 20th-century Europe through modern dramaturgy. These plays are considered the root of all comedic traditions in the history of dramatic writing. Reza Shirmarz believes that if we are to truly understand comedy, we must have access to all of these texts. Aristophanes is one of the figures who had a profound influence on the 20th century, notably on writers such as Bernard Shaw. His legacy continued to shape drama well beyond his own time. After Aristophanes, it was Menander who possessed a comparable power of influence. Menander disrupted all prior rules of comedy. While Aristophanes leaned toward idealism, Menander shattered that idealism and reached a form of realism in comedic writing. In Menander’s characters, there is no longer any trace of the caricatured figures of Aristophanes, no more upper-class aristocrats or the war-era politicians of the Peloponnesian conflict who wreaked havoc everywhere. Instead, Menander’s comedy turned its gaze to ordinary people and everyday realities.
Menander and Aristophanes Through the Eyes of Reza Shirmarz
Menanderus, The Father of New Comedy, 342–290 BC
Seven of Menander’s comedies have survived, and Reza Shirmarz has translated all of them. The Bad-tempered, The Arbitration, The Girl from Samos, and others will soon be published and made available to interested readers. The Grouch has already been published individually by Hozeh Honari Publications. In fact, Menander broke away from the "sky of Aristophanes" and stepped into the lives of rural and sometimes urban people. He tried to reflect human relationships in his texts. Menander was deeply concerned with ethics, so the vulgarity found in Aristophanes’ works is absent from his. Aristophanes, by contrast, was a sharp-tongued, provocative intellectual, both a philosopher and a satirist, who was utterly repulsed by the state of society around him. There was no peace in his surroundings. The Peloponnesian War had devastated everything and led Greece’s Golden Age under Pericles into decline. Aristophanes saw that the grand and democratic Greece was nearing collapse. Thus, he deliberately entered his texts through the lens of idealism, since corruption, poverty, and war were weighing heavily on the people. The tyrants who ruled Greece at the time were harshly oppressing the populace.
The complete plays of Aristophanes, in 2 volumes, Namayesh Publishing Center in 2003 and in 7 volumes, Ghatreh Publishing Company, 2015.
In such a climate, it was only natural for a political comedian like Aristophanes to emerge. He often mocked the tragedian Euripides in his plays. Aristophanes rejected tragedy altogether, believing that the era had a fundamental need for comedy instead. His critique of the great tragic trio, Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, is razor-sharp. He held Aeschylus in great esteem. In his play The Frogs, considered the first literary critique in history, Aristophanes evaluates the works of these three tragedians and ranks Aeschylus first. This is largely due to Aeschylus’s poetic language, which Aristophanes felt a strong affinity with. There was a kind of emotional identification between the two. According to Aristophanes, Sophocles ranked second, and Euripides third.
Though Aristophanes occasionally defends or praises Euripides in parts of The Frogs, his main quarrel with him lies in the way Euripides portrays women, as vile, inferior, and insignificant. This is the core of Aristophanes’ conflict with Euripides. In several other comedies, such as The Acharnians and The Knights, Aristophanes attacks Euripides, even mocking his mother, who was a vegetable seller. Whenever Aristophanes mentions vegetables, it’s often a jab at Euripides. After ten years of the Peloponnesian War, Aristophanes began to move toward a more moderate comedy, shifting away from his earlier combative and aggressive tone, and embracing a more conventional and realistic comedic form. One of Aristophanes’ key traits was his deep understanding of the spirit of his time, what one might call being "a child of his era."
Though Aristophanes occasionally defends or praises Euripides in parts of The Frogs, his main quarrel with him lies in the way Euripides portrays women, as vile, inferior, and insignificant. This is the core of Aristophanes’ conflict with Euripides. In several other comedies, such as The Acharnians and The Knights, Aristophanes attacks Euripides, even mocking his mother, who was a vegetable seller. Whenever Aristophanes mentions vegetables, it’s often a jab at Euripides. After ten years of the Peloponnesian War, Aristophanes began to move toward a more moderate comedy, shifting away from his earlier combative and aggressive tone, and embracing a more conventional and realistic comedic form. One of Aristophanes’ key traits was his deep understanding of the spirit of his time, what one might call being "a child of his era."
Plautus and Terence: The Roman Legacy of Comedy
Titus Maccius Plautus (254–184 BC)
After the period of Middle Comedy, perfected by Aristophanes in his final three plays, Menander emerged, known as the father of New Comedy. He laid the foundation for realism in comedic writing. Following Menander, Plautus rose to prominence in ancient Rome. Influenced by earlier New Comedy writers like Philemon and especially Menander, Plautus left behind 20 surviving plays that reflect a kind of creative adaptation, aiming to develop an original and authentic Roman comedy. In many cases, Plautus combined two or even three of Menander’s plays to create a new dramatic work. While stylistically he continued in Menander’s comedic tradition, Plautus diverged from Menander’s refined, intellectual tone. His works are more grounded in the lives of lower-class people and, technically speaking, may be considered somewhat less sophisticated. This is not necessarily a mark of inferiority, but rather a shift in tone and focus.
Interestingly, the roots of Iranian Siah-Bazi, Italian Commedia dell’arte, and various other comedic genres can be traced back to the works of Plautus and Terence, the pillars of Roman comedy. Reza Shirmarz plans to pursue a comparative research project in the future to trace the origins of Siah-Bazi, with Plautus’s works serving as a key foundation. These texts are significant for Iranian theater, as they align closely with the characteristics of Siah-Bazi. For instance, the dynamic between Hajji and Siah in Siah-Bazi corresponds to the master and lover figures in Roman comedy.
Later on, playwrights like Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, and Molière adapted Plautus’s work. Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors is an adaptation of Plautus’s Menaechmi (also known as The Twin Menaechmi), though Shakespeare added further layers of complexity to characters and situations.
Interestingly, the roots of Iranian Siah-Bazi, Italian Commedia dell’arte, and various other comedic genres can be traced back to the works of Plautus and Terence, the pillars of Roman comedy. Reza Shirmarz plans to pursue a comparative research project in the future to trace the origins of Siah-Bazi, with Plautus’s works serving as a key foundation. These texts are significant for Iranian theater, as they align closely with the characteristics of Siah-Bazi. For instance, the dynamic between Hajji and Siah in Siah-Bazi corresponds to the master and lover figures in Roman comedy.
Later on, playwrights like Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, and Molière adapted Plautus’s work. Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors is an adaptation of Plautus’s Menaechmi (also known as The Twin Menaechmi), though Shakespeare added further layers of complexity to characters and situations.
Reza Shirmarz, The Acropolis of Athens (2014)
According to Shirmarz, we are compelled to study, translate, and analyze the surviving works of ancient Greece and Rome to develop a renewed theatrical system. Contrary to popular belief, Iran does have a significant theatrical heritage, from pioneers like Mirza Agha Tabrizi and Akhundzadeh to masters like Bahram Beyzai, Ali Nassirian, and Hamid Samandarian. Drawing from their legacy and connecting it with the classical comedies and tragedies of the Greco-Roman tradition could lead us to a unique theatrical language. Terence came onto the scene after Plautus, differing from him only slightly. Terence’s tone is more refined, whereas Plautus still carried the biting crudeness reminiscent of Aristophanes. Terence’s humor leaned toward a more serious, dignified satire, one that strongly influenced writers like Ben Jonson and Shakespeare.
Terence followed in the path of Menander and Plautus but infused his comedies with elevated language, structured elegance, and more sophisticated comic situations. He authored six plays: Andria (The Girl from Andros), Hecyra (The Mother-in-Law), Heauton Timorumenos (The Self-Tormentor), Eunuchus (The Eunuch), Phormio, and Adelphoe (The Brothers). All are characterized by their dignified tone, a quality that also appears in Shakespeare’s works, which rarely rely on vulgarity. Shirmarz argues that Persian translations of Shakespeare have traditionally emphasized the literary qualities of his texts, often at the expense of their performative, stage-driven nature.
Terence followed in the path of Menander and Plautus but infused his comedies with elevated language, structured elegance, and more sophisticated comic situations. He authored six plays: Andria (The Girl from Andros), Hecyra (The Mother-in-Law), Heauton Timorumenos (The Self-Tormentor), Eunuchus (The Eunuch), Phormio, and Adelphoe (The Brothers). All are characterized by their dignified tone, a quality that also appears in Shakespeare’s works, which rarely rely on vulgarity. Shirmarz argues that Persian translations of Shakespeare have traditionally emphasized the literary qualities of his texts, often at the expense of their performative, stage-driven nature.
Reza Shirmarz: A Translator Committed to Performance and Language
 The Complete Works of Terence (21 Plays), Translated into Farsi by Reza Shirmarz, Ghatreh Publishing Company, 2002.
In his translations, Reza Shirmarz has paid special attention to two key principles. First, he focuses on performability, ensuring the plays can be naturally staged. Second, he strives to adapt the language of the plays to contemporary Persian. Regarding this, he explains: “These are the two biggest obstacles a translator faces. Words must come to life on stage through the actors. If the language feels artificial at any point, the audience will quickly sense it. In essence, the translator rewrites the play, and many theorists believe that a translator is also a creator. That’s a rare experience I’ve occasionally reached.” Shirmarz believes that a translator must immerse themselves in the ideas, styles, dramatic techniques, human relationships, and structural elements of the play before beginning the work. He notes: “If you examine my translations of Menander, Plautus, Aristophanes, and others closely, you’ll notice the distinctions in their tone, character development, dialogue styles, and so forth. These differences are quite clear.” He also clarifies that it was never intentional for his books to be published by three different publishers, The Bad-tempered by Hozeh Honari, Aristophanes’ works by Namayesh Publications, and Plautus’s three-volume collection by Ghatreh. He simply followed the paths that unfolded naturally, and none of the publishers posed any problems for him.
Shirmarz expresses his gratitude for the support and collaboration of Asghar Hemmat, Dr. Ghotbeddin Sadeghi, Akbar Radi, whose solidarity and encouragement motivated him to continue translating and publishing these major classical works with renewed energy. In the near future, Shirmarz plans to publish 150 short modern comedy sketches for readers and performers. He also has plans to translate works by Ben Jonson, William Congreve, Aristophanes, Somerset Maugham, Terence Rattigan, and others. In conclusion, it is worth noting that this tireless translator dedicates seventeen hours a day to his translation work. It is his sole passion, driven by the belief that this effort can contribute meaningfully to the evolution of theatrical art in Iran. |
Identifying the Wounds: Reza Shirmarz on Theater, Language, and Exile
(Interviewed by Playwright & Director Ruzbeh Hosseini, September 2014, Sharg Newspaper, Tehran)
(Interviewed by Playwright & Director Ruzbeh Hosseini, September 2014, Sharg Newspaper, Tehran)
Shargh: Reza Shirmarz, a theater researcher who has lived outside Iran for many years, recently returned to the country on the occasion of the publication of his latest book, Thinking with My Eyes: The Visual Theater of Robert Wilson. In this work, he presents an analytical study of the works of Robert “Bob” Wilson, the renowned and influential American theater director and creator of performances such as The King of Spain, The Life and Times of Sigmund Freud, Ka Mountain, The Life and Times of Joseph Stalin, Lecture on Nothing, and A Letter for Queen Victoria.
Q: What role did music play in your life that led you to study with Master Sarvestani in your youth and later with Master Mohammad Nouri? Would you say that music was your first connection to the arts?
From childhood through adolescence, I suffered from a form of dyslexia or relatively severe speech disorder. Yet, at the same time, I felt I had a natural ability for singing. Later, I came to realize that my dyslexia was related to being left-handed. According to modern studies, many left-handed individuals experience some kind of speech or writing disorder.
So, in my early teens, I began transcribing the lyrics of songs I used to only listen to and practiced them daily in the forests of Sorkheh Hesar. In fact, I used singing and my own invented speech exercises as tools to gradually overcome my speech disorder. That’s how music entered my life. Even when I began training with Master Sarvestani, I hadn’t fully conquered my speech issues.
Q: What was the novel you started writing in English during your teenage years, and what became of it? Why English? Are you still writing novels?
The novel is called In the Doghouse, and I’m still wrestling with it. I think it’ll be ready for publication within a year or two. I chose to write it in English because I was certain, and I still am, that given the state of censorship in our literature, it wouldn’t be allowed for publication, just like my plays that have been stuck in the Ministry of Culture for eight years now.
The novel is composed of three narratives set in three different countries. Gradually, the connections among them emerge, and they lead to a unified conclusion. Despite the author’s attempts within the novel, who exists in a reincarnated form in each of the three countries, to control the characters and steer the plot as he wishes, the characters rebel, resist him, and take the story in their own direction to its conclusion. I’ll leave the rest for the novel to explain...
Q: Where did your engagement with language begin?
My speech disorder made me deeply aware of the importance of language. I remember in elementary school, I couldn’t speak as fluently as the other students. Often, when the teacher asked a question, I couldn’t respond, and sometimes I was mocked or even sent out of the classroom. Eventually, I found a solution: I would quickly write the answers and show them to the teacher. Only some of my teachers welcomed this method.
The important thing is that from that time on, writing and language became essential means of communication for me. Learning English at the age of 11 or 12 was also a foundational step in my connection with language.
Q: Tell us the story of your serendipitous entry into Tehran’s City Theater and your journey into the world of performance.
I entered the world of theater completely by chance. I was serving in the Air Force, and our service vehicle passed by a round building with tall columns every day. Out of curiosity, one day I got off at Vali-e Asr Square and entered the City Theater. After much insistence, Mr. Mansour Khalaj registered me in the theater’s library.
Alongside intensely studying most of the resources available there (many of which I had already read before), I began translating ancient Greek and Roman comedies, something I had been passionate about for years.
It’s also worth noting that early in my military service, I wrote my first play titled Gaumata, even though I hadn’t yet read many plays.
Q: What role did music play in your life that led you to study under Master Sarvestani in your youth and later with Master Mohammad Nouri? Would you say music was your first link to art?
From childhood to adolescence, I suffered from a form of dyslexia or relatively severe speech disorder, yet I felt a natural ability for singing. Later, I discovered that my dyslexia was related to being left-handed, modern studies show many left-handed people struggle with speech or writing disorders. So, in my early teens, I started transcribing lyrics from the songs I used to listen to, and practiced them daily in the forests of Sorkheh Hesar. In fact, I used singing and my own invented speech drills to gradually overcome my disorder. That’s when music entered my life. Even when I began learning from Master Sarvestani, I hadn’t completely conquered my speech issues.
Q: Tell us about the novel you began writing in English as a teenager. Why English? Are you still writing fiction?
The novel is called In the Doghouse, and I’m still wrestling with it. I hope to have it ready for publication in the next year or two. I chose to write it in English because I was certain, still am, that with the censorship our literature faces, it would never be published in Iran. Just like my plays, which have been sitting in the Ministry of Culture for eight years.
The novel consists of three narratives set in three countries. Their connections gradually become clear and converge into a unified conclusion. Although the narrator, who appears in all three stories in a reincarnated form, tries to control the characters and push the plot forward, the characters rebel and steer the story toward their own endings. I’ll let the novel explain the rest.
Q: How did your engagement with language begin?
My speech disorder made me acutely aware of the importance of language. In elementary school, I couldn’t speak as fluently as my peers. When a teacher asked a question, I often couldn’t respond and was sometimes mocked or sent out of class. Eventually, I found a solution: I’d write down the answer quickly and show it to the teacher. A few teachers welcomed this method. From then on, writing and language became vital tools of communication for me. Learning English around age 11 or 12 was another foundational step in this relationship with language.
Q: Tell us the story of how you discovered City Theater and entered the world of performance.
It was completely by chance. I was a soldier in the Air Force, and our service vehicle passed a circular building with tall columns every day. Out of curiosity, one day I got off at Vali-e-Asr Square and entered Tehran’s City Theater. With much insistence, Mr. Mansour Khalaj registered me in the library. While intensely studying most of the materials there, many of which I had already read, I began translating ancient Greek and Roman comedies, a passion I had harbored for years.
It’s also worth mentioning that early in my military service, I wrote my first play, Gaumata, without yet having read many plays.
Q: You translate, write plays, novels, stories, and poetry. Your biography could fill several thousand words. Do you work at night too? Does 24 hours really mean 24 full hours for you? Among all these forms, which is your main concern? Can they even be separated?
I began writing with novels and poetry. My journey into playwriting seriously started through translating plays, though I had written and experimented with drama even before that. Over time, and on the advice of Master Akbar Radi, I reduced the volume of my translation work and focused more seriously on writing plays.
But I’ll never give up translating plays, it’s like a classroom and research lab for me.
In the early years of my professional life, I worked late into the nights. Sometimes I slept only five or six hours, or even less. I remember when I was translating the complete works of Aristophanes, I worked 18 hours a day for two years. It was intense and long-term, and it put my health at risk. After a couple of weeks of forced rest, I began working on Plautus’s complete works with the same routine.
However, for the past seven years, I’ve made sleep and exercise a regular and essential part of my life.
Q: What led you to start your translation work with ancient Greek texts?
I had a plan to gradually translate the complete works of the world's major dramatists into Persian, except for those whose works already had good translations. The works of ancient Greece and Rome were early links in this chain.
Q: In my opinion, you’re the most prolific and perhaps the most important translator of dramatic literature since the revolution. What’s your criterion for selecting a work to translate—whether a theory or a play? Why do you still translate when you’re already a skilled and accomplished writer? Do you see this as a kind of mission?
I believe a literary translator cannot and should not focus solely on quick, flashy publication. The primary responsibility of a literary translator is cultural development and contributing to the emergence of cultural literacy, just like a writer, or perhaps even more so.
If the major dramas of the world hadn’t been translated into Persian by pioneers like Akhundzadeh, would our great native playwrights have ever been born? Even George Farquhar, the first English-language tragedian, grew as a playwright after reading translated Greek and Roman drama.
Aside from cultures like Greece, Rome, and India, where documented dramatic literature was first produced, other cultures learned dramatic writing through translation and then localized it.
So, alongside writing, especially playwriting, I’ll continue translating for the rest of my life. It’s through translation that Iranian playwrights can get to know the major global trends in dramatic writing, and in turn produce original, culturally rooted work of their own.
Q: You have two books on vocal technique—one translated, one authored. I believe the second is unparalleled—not just among current works, but among any methodology that deals with breath, voice training, and articulation. How did you get into this field? Was it a continuation of your personal vocal practice?
Yes, that book was the result of a two-year vocal training workshop I conducted. After much refining, I developed a consistent method based on breath, poetry, dialogue, musical notes, sound, and yoga.
Classical singing, something I pursued seriously since adolescence and voice change, also played a major role. Under the guidance of Masters Mohammad Nouri and Alireza Shafaghi-Nejad, I cultivated deep commitment. Their influence was crucial in shaping the content and exercises of that book.
Currently, I’m translating it into English, at the suggestion of some English-speaking colleagues.
Q: What did you gain from being mentored by a master playwright like Akbar Radi?
Over the years, my friendly gatherings with Master Radi gradually evolved into something more like private lessons. He always recommended study and meditation. I used to read my drafts to him during our long, focused sessions, and he would meticulously critique and revise dramatic situations, characters, dialogues, and the entanglement of structure and content.
I still have his handwritten notes on my play Cinnamon Stars in my private archive and revisit them from time to time.
I remember coming across a concept in Mulla Sadra’s writings: "circular motion," which aligns with certain theories in modern and postmodern linguistics. I tried to apply this form of motion to my playwriting, and Radi enthusiastically approved. We had many long conversations about it. He once told me that his own plays Behind the Glass, Mrs. Khanomche, and Moonlight Balcony were all built around this expanding circular structure.
Q: Today, with your current views on playwriting, how successful do you think Radi was in his own work?
Shirmarz: I consider Akbar Radi the greatest playwright of his generation in the field of realism. Even though his later and unfinished works were entering a space beyond realism, he remained a crucial link in the chain of Iranian drama. Younger generations can learn a great deal from him.
Q: When did you move beyond Radi’s influence—was it after you left Iran? How far have you gone since then? Do you still believe in storytelling in playwriting?
Honestly, it was Radi himself who advised me not to repeat his own playwriting style. Even during our time together, he acknowledged the distinct quality of my approach.
After I migrated to Greece, my beloved homeland, I became more familiar with contemporary playwrights like Pam Gem, Sarah Kane, Lanford Wilson, and others. Gradually, new elements entered my writing, such as minimalism, both in drama and poetry.
Despite these transformations, I still believe in storytelling. You can see this commitment even in my recent plays like The Immigrants, Tsunami, and The Pipe, Muzzled.
From childhood through adolescence, I suffered from a form of dyslexia or relatively severe speech disorder. Yet, at the same time, I felt I had a natural ability for singing. Later, I came to realize that my dyslexia was related to being left-handed. According to modern studies, many left-handed individuals experience some kind of speech or writing disorder.
So, in my early teens, I began transcribing the lyrics of songs I used to only listen to and practiced them daily in the forests of Sorkheh Hesar. In fact, I used singing and my own invented speech exercises as tools to gradually overcome my speech disorder. That’s how music entered my life. Even when I began training with Master Sarvestani, I hadn’t fully conquered my speech issues.
Q: What was the novel you started writing in English during your teenage years, and what became of it? Why English? Are you still writing novels?
The novel is called In the Doghouse, and I’m still wrestling with it. I think it’ll be ready for publication within a year or two. I chose to write it in English because I was certain, and I still am, that given the state of censorship in our literature, it wouldn’t be allowed for publication, just like my plays that have been stuck in the Ministry of Culture for eight years now.
The novel is composed of three narratives set in three different countries. Gradually, the connections among them emerge, and they lead to a unified conclusion. Despite the author’s attempts within the novel, who exists in a reincarnated form in each of the three countries, to control the characters and steer the plot as he wishes, the characters rebel, resist him, and take the story in their own direction to its conclusion. I’ll leave the rest for the novel to explain...
Q: Where did your engagement with language begin?
My speech disorder made me deeply aware of the importance of language. I remember in elementary school, I couldn’t speak as fluently as the other students. Often, when the teacher asked a question, I couldn’t respond, and sometimes I was mocked or even sent out of the classroom. Eventually, I found a solution: I would quickly write the answers and show them to the teacher. Only some of my teachers welcomed this method.
The important thing is that from that time on, writing and language became essential means of communication for me. Learning English at the age of 11 or 12 was also a foundational step in my connection with language.
Q: Tell us the story of your serendipitous entry into Tehran’s City Theater and your journey into the world of performance.
I entered the world of theater completely by chance. I was serving in the Air Force, and our service vehicle passed by a round building with tall columns every day. Out of curiosity, one day I got off at Vali-e Asr Square and entered the City Theater. After much insistence, Mr. Mansour Khalaj registered me in the theater’s library.
Alongside intensely studying most of the resources available there (many of which I had already read before), I began translating ancient Greek and Roman comedies, something I had been passionate about for years.
It’s also worth noting that early in my military service, I wrote my first play titled Gaumata, even though I hadn’t yet read many plays.
Q: What role did music play in your life that led you to study under Master Sarvestani in your youth and later with Master Mohammad Nouri? Would you say music was your first link to art?
From childhood to adolescence, I suffered from a form of dyslexia or relatively severe speech disorder, yet I felt a natural ability for singing. Later, I discovered that my dyslexia was related to being left-handed, modern studies show many left-handed people struggle with speech or writing disorders. So, in my early teens, I started transcribing lyrics from the songs I used to listen to, and practiced them daily in the forests of Sorkheh Hesar. In fact, I used singing and my own invented speech drills to gradually overcome my disorder. That’s when music entered my life. Even when I began learning from Master Sarvestani, I hadn’t completely conquered my speech issues.
Q: Tell us about the novel you began writing in English as a teenager. Why English? Are you still writing fiction?
The novel is called In the Doghouse, and I’m still wrestling with it. I hope to have it ready for publication in the next year or two. I chose to write it in English because I was certain, still am, that with the censorship our literature faces, it would never be published in Iran. Just like my plays, which have been sitting in the Ministry of Culture for eight years.
The novel consists of three narratives set in three countries. Their connections gradually become clear and converge into a unified conclusion. Although the narrator, who appears in all three stories in a reincarnated form, tries to control the characters and push the plot forward, the characters rebel and steer the story toward their own endings. I’ll let the novel explain the rest.
Q: How did your engagement with language begin?
My speech disorder made me acutely aware of the importance of language. In elementary school, I couldn’t speak as fluently as my peers. When a teacher asked a question, I often couldn’t respond and was sometimes mocked or sent out of class. Eventually, I found a solution: I’d write down the answer quickly and show it to the teacher. A few teachers welcomed this method. From then on, writing and language became vital tools of communication for me. Learning English around age 11 or 12 was another foundational step in this relationship with language.
Q: Tell us the story of how you discovered City Theater and entered the world of performance.
It was completely by chance. I was a soldier in the Air Force, and our service vehicle passed a circular building with tall columns every day. Out of curiosity, one day I got off at Vali-e-Asr Square and entered Tehran’s City Theater. With much insistence, Mr. Mansour Khalaj registered me in the library. While intensely studying most of the materials there, many of which I had already read, I began translating ancient Greek and Roman comedies, a passion I had harbored for years.
It’s also worth mentioning that early in my military service, I wrote my first play, Gaumata, without yet having read many plays.
Q: You translate, write plays, novels, stories, and poetry. Your biography could fill several thousand words. Do you work at night too? Does 24 hours really mean 24 full hours for you? Among all these forms, which is your main concern? Can they even be separated?
I began writing with novels and poetry. My journey into playwriting seriously started through translating plays, though I had written and experimented with drama even before that. Over time, and on the advice of Master Akbar Radi, I reduced the volume of my translation work and focused more seriously on writing plays.
But I’ll never give up translating plays, it’s like a classroom and research lab for me.
In the early years of my professional life, I worked late into the nights. Sometimes I slept only five or six hours, or even less. I remember when I was translating the complete works of Aristophanes, I worked 18 hours a day for two years. It was intense and long-term, and it put my health at risk. After a couple of weeks of forced rest, I began working on Plautus’s complete works with the same routine.
However, for the past seven years, I’ve made sleep and exercise a regular and essential part of my life.
Q: What led you to start your translation work with ancient Greek texts?
I had a plan to gradually translate the complete works of the world's major dramatists into Persian, except for those whose works already had good translations. The works of ancient Greece and Rome were early links in this chain.
Q: In my opinion, you’re the most prolific and perhaps the most important translator of dramatic literature since the revolution. What’s your criterion for selecting a work to translate—whether a theory or a play? Why do you still translate when you’re already a skilled and accomplished writer? Do you see this as a kind of mission?
I believe a literary translator cannot and should not focus solely on quick, flashy publication. The primary responsibility of a literary translator is cultural development and contributing to the emergence of cultural literacy, just like a writer, or perhaps even more so.
If the major dramas of the world hadn’t been translated into Persian by pioneers like Akhundzadeh, would our great native playwrights have ever been born? Even George Farquhar, the first English-language tragedian, grew as a playwright after reading translated Greek and Roman drama.
Aside from cultures like Greece, Rome, and India, where documented dramatic literature was first produced, other cultures learned dramatic writing through translation and then localized it.
So, alongside writing, especially playwriting, I’ll continue translating for the rest of my life. It’s through translation that Iranian playwrights can get to know the major global trends in dramatic writing, and in turn produce original, culturally rooted work of their own.
Q: You have two books on vocal technique—one translated, one authored. I believe the second is unparalleled—not just among current works, but among any methodology that deals with breath, voice training, and articulation. How did you get into this field? Was it a continuation of your personal vocal practice?
Yes, that book was the result of a two-year vocal training workshop I conducted. After much refining, I developed a consistent method based on breath, poetry, dialogue, musical notes, sound, and yoga.
Classical singing, something I pursued seriously since adolescence and voice change, also played a major role. Under the guidance of Masters Mohammad Nouri and Alireza Shafaghi-Nejad, I cultivated deep commitment. Their influence was crucial in shaping the content and exercises of that book.
Currently, I’m translating it into English, at the suggestion of some English-speaking colleagues.
Q: What did you gain from being mentored by a master playwright like Akbar Radi?
Over the years, my friendly gatherings with Master Radi gradually evolved into something more like private lessons. He always recommended study and meditation. I used to read my drafts to him during our long, focused sessions, and he would meticulously critique and revise dramatic situations, characters, dialogues, and the entanglement of structure and content.
I still have his handwritten notes on my play Cinnamon Stars in my private archive and revisit them from time to time.
I remember coming across a concept in Mulla Sadra’s writings: "circular motion," which aligns with certain theories in modern and postmodern linguistics. I tried to apply this form of motion to my playwriting, and Radi enthusiastically approved. We had many long conversations about it. He once told me that his own plays Behind the Glass, Mrs. Khanomche, and Moonlight Balcony were all built around this expanding circular structure.
Q: Today, with your current views on playwriting, how successful do you think Radi was in his own work?
Shirmarz: I consider Akbar Radi the greatest playwright of his generation in the field of realism. Even though his later and unfinished works were entering a space beyond realism, he remained a crucial link in the chain of Iranian drama. Younger generations can learn a great deal from him.
Q: When did you move beyond Radi’s influence—was it after you left Iran? How far have you gone since then? Do you still believe in storytelling in playwriting?
Honestly, it was Radi himself who advised me not to repeat his own playwriting style. Even during our time together, he acknowledged the distinct quality of my approach.
After I migrated to Greece, my beloved homeland, I became more familiar with contemporary playwrights like Pam Gem, Sarah Kane, Lanford Wilson, and others. Gradually, new elements entered my writing, such as minimalism, both in drama and poetry.
Despite these transformations, I still believe in storytelling. You can see this commitment even in my recent plays like The Immigrants, Tsunami, and The Pipe, Muzzled.
Interview with Index On Censorship about Beckett's Catastrophe
(January 12, 2022)
(January 12, 2022)
In 1982, Samuel Beckett wrote the short play Catastrophe about control and censorship and dedicated it to the Czech dramatist Vaclav Havel who at the time was languishing in prison for daring to challenge the authorities with his work. When Havel was finally released, he wrote his own play, Mistake, as a response to the one Beckett had written in solidarity. In February 1984, in one of the most significant milestones in the history of Index on Censorship, both plays were published for the first time (you can see these in our archive at tinyurl.com/catastropheplay and tinyurl.com/mistakeplay) Now, in the year that Index celebrates its 50th birthday, we asked Iranian playwright Reza Shirmarz to write his own response to Beckett’s Catastrophe.
Shirmarz was born in Tehran in 1974 and raised in an educated, multicultural (Persian, Turkish, Russian and Kurdish) family surrounded by books on literature, philosophy and history. “When I was a teen, I grew fond of drama, theatre and music and began to read the world’s dramatic texts more meticulously from the Greeks to the contemporary playwrights as well as translate the ones I liked,” Shirmarz told Index. As part of his education in theatre, Shirmarz studied the works of many of the theatre world’s greats, including Beckett. “Beckett is an architect of silence,” he said. “He uses silence to give a harmonious interpretation of the words he builds his post-dramatic situations upon. This interaction between silence and words under the strong shadow of constant karmic repetition of lexical structures, sounds, silences, etc. gives the playwright a great chance to create innovative moments through which he gives his interpretation of the status quo.” Shirmarz began writing his own poems and plays and soon received accolades for his trilogy Cinnamon Stars, Crystal Vines and The Lanterns are Weeping which documented three decades of sociopolitical life in Iran. Despite the praise from audiences and critics, Shirmarz gained unwanted attention from elsewhere. “The plays were censored or banned by the fundamentalists when I tried to stage them or when they were sold out and the major publishing companies in Iran attempted to republish them,” he said. “Any sort of social criticism is the red line for the regime of Ayatollahs. My plays are all against the status quo in Iran and reveal the fact that morality can be unethical in countries under religio-ideological regimes, that religion and ideology together can change into an uncontrollably ferocious monster which tends to devour the entire society including itself, that the revolutions based on religious wiles and ideological lies go through a devastating process of political cannibalism as well as self-cannibalism.” 
Shirmarz eventually chose to emigrate to Greece because of Iran’s “extremely corrupt system which chooses to support its proponents and excommunicate its opponents at any price”. He told Index: “If you are not an advocate of their devious unscrupulous ways, you are an outsider, an outlaw, and you need to move out if you want to survive, but if you are or play the role of the devil’s advocate, they will return the favour, let you work under strict censorship, or they may even promote you a national celebrity.” As a censored writer himself, what are Shirmarz’s views on Beckett’s Catastrophe? “Catastrophe is about censored communication, the ritualistic
representation and the symbolic image of human relationship constrained by external forces, a deterministic, political and post-dramatic text which demonstrates how humans are coerced to be and live in a torturous limbo.” “[In Catastrophe] Beckett’s Protagonist is deprived of free will by the systems surrounding him and the systematic control imposed by others, except at the moment he moves his head up and looks at the spectators. “Despite his psychosomatic pain, he talks through his silence and protests through his immobility. As so-called social actors and audiences, we are reminded by the playwright that we are not able to get out of the cage the sociopolitical conventions have imprisoned us in and we must abide by the unbreachable laws brought in by the global structures and conglomerates in order to survive.” |
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