Artist Statement: from the creator of Reimagining King of Hearts, Niloo Jalilvand

In this reimagined telling of King of Hearts, I invite you into a narrative woven through layers of personal and cinematic history.

This project is more than a reinterpretation of a 1968 Iranian melodrama, it is also a return to one of the most beloved popular films of pre-revolutionary Iranian cinema. Soltane Ghalbha (literally, King of Hearts) became iconic, a musical with an original score by Anoushiravan Rohani and singing voices by Aref and Ahdieh.

At the heart of the story is a young couple who marry in secret, without the permission of the woman’s wealthy father. Because he disapproves of the match, he disowns his daughter, which leaves the couple vulnerable. An accident then separates them for years, each believing the other has died. The man rises to fame as a singer, and raises their daughter alone. Many years later he meets the girl without knowing she is his own child, treats her mother, and on the night he intends to marry a wealthy woman, the truth is revealed. Husband, wife, and child are reunited, and the first love is restored. This pattern of secrecy, class tension, and late reconciliation spoke to 1960s audiences who were negotiating modernity, family authority, and the promises of popular culture.

This project is, for me, a journey into my own past and a tribute to the voices that were never fully heard. My father, a renowned dubbing actor, gave voice to the original film. As a child, I witnessed the world of Iranian cinema from the sidelines, a world that, while magical, also carried a toxic undercurrent, especially for women. Soon after, I was sent to boarding school in England at the age of ten, carrying with me a bundle of childhood impressions, half-understood tensions, and a longing for belonging.

This performance is personal. It is a space where I confront and reimagine those early memories, and where we give new voice to the women whose strength was often misunderstood. Characters like Fetneh, long portrayed as rivals, are reframed with empathy and depth. Women like Azar Shiva, often labeled “difficult,” are revealed as boundary-setting artists navigating a male-dominated industry.

To make these hidden truths visible, we have chosen to layer languages and identities. Saeed and Setareh speak in Farsi with English subtitles, which keeps the cultural texture of the original film. When the reenactment breaks and we see the actors rather than the characters, they speak in English, so the audience can meet them as working artists with lived histories, not only as fictional roles.

Ultimately, this reimagining is about giving voice to those who have been left out of the frame, not only in the film, but in our collective memory. It is a story within a story, a conversation between generations, a space where performance becomes healing and memory becomes movement.