Armon Ghaeinizadeh in Fly Free | Photo by Barry McCluskey
An interdisciplinary work-in-progress, creator Armon Ghaeinizadeh’s Fly Free, presented by New Story Productions, is rooted in the trauma of living under Iran’s oppressive regime. Focusing on the ban on public dancing and its affect on youth, the play’s protagonist is a young man who has been beaten and arrested, along with his even younger sister, for dancing in a park. The structure of the piece has Amir (played by Ghaeinizadeh) telling us his story while in prison, flashing back and forth between comforting family memories and the awful reality of imprisonment. All the while, he finds solace in dancing, slipping in and out of the rhythms that sustain him.
Dressed in black tights, Ghaeinizadeh’s form undulates to the Iranian music with determined, celebratory abandon. It is urgent and sensual, cathartic for him and entrancing for us. In effectively jarring transitions, he throws himself down to the floor violently, surrounded suddenly by prison bars suggested by Jay Hines’ lighting.
Not all transitions are as intensely focused and evocative. The lead-ins for the fanciful work he does with aerial silks, for instance, could be better finessed. Thematically, they are well established as an artistic escape, the metaphorical chance for Amir to fly free. The three segments feel a little too much like showcases in this particular incarnation of the piece. Again, the work is still in progress and it may just be a matter of pacing or mise en scène to more naturally integrate these impressive sequences into the storytelling.
Ghaeinizadeh’s most powerful writing and performance actually occurs quite early on in the show, when Amir loses himself in a humorous and poignant account of his mother cooking rice. He lovingly leads us through her process, of which music and dance are essential components. Missing her greatly, though never allowing himself to fully wallow, his yearning becomes clear as his voices catches in his throat. It is a lovely opening sequence and, though later moments may be more overtly harrowing, the understated and deeply compelling ease of this particular passage is unmatched. In fact, if I were to offer advice, it would be to return to this specific memory, perhaps from slightly different perspective or awareness.
One of the strengths of the piece is its intimacy, both physically and conceptually. The Annex Theatre is an atypical, surprisingly versatile repurposed space—remarkably tight and cosy given its cavernous height. It allows immersion in Ghaeinizadeh’s personal space while simultaneously facilitating the vertical demands of aerial choreography. In collaboration with consulting director Soheil Parsa, Ghaeinizadeh establishes a fourth-wall breaking relationship to the audience, and the text also acknowledges us as both present and dubious. “I know you’re not here,” Amir tells us as he contemplates this empowering fantasy of flight and performance that makes his imprisoned state tolerable.
Restrained scope is another key strength. There is emotive power in the limited, specific perspective. Ghaeinizadeh isn’t making any grand statements about the political situation in Iran or of activism generally. The act of political disruption he and his sister engage in—dancing publicly—is sort of naive, making it especially poignant. They don’t think anything will really come of it.
At an hour, Fly Free feels substantial yet fleeting. I imagine it will get stronger and more fluid as it develops.
Fly Free
ran June 26, 2025
Annex Theatre (730 Bathurst St.)
running time: 60 minutes minutes (no intermission)
Armon Ghaeinizadeh in Fly Free | Photo by Barry McCluskey