Strict cultural restrictions by the Islamic Republic have helped pave the way for the runaway success of Eternal Love, a bawdy Persian-language dating show filmed in Turkey and streamed online into Iranian homes.
The YouTube-based reality series, launched in April 2025, shows young Iranian singles in a luxury villa competing for love and money—formats banned by Iran's theocracy but now flourishing beyond its reach.
“This program is an insult to Iranians, an insult to women,” said conservative Iranian film critic Massoud Farasati. “This show is so vile that one feels ashamed just watching it.”
According to information publicly available on the show’s official website, Eternal Love (Love in Mansion) is produced in Turkey by M Networks Yapım Dağıtım A.Ş.
Filmed in Bodrum, Eternal Love features flirtation, alcohol, designer fashion and physical intimacy—routinely censored in Iranian media.
Cultural red lines push audiences, creators abroad
The Islamic Republic has long banned or restricted dating shows, romantic drama, and portrayals of relationships outside marriage.
Over the past four decades, even minimal depictions of dance, drinking or romance have led to the suppression of domestic shows in Iran.
The state regulators' red lines mean much of contemporary life especially for younger people is absent from official screens.
Two recent examples highlight the scope of the restrictions.
The series Tasian was suspended over brief scenes of dance and alcohol consumption. A film adaptation of Savushun—Simin Daneshvar’s acclaimed novel—was also taken off a domestic streaming platform on Thursday after its first episode featured women dancing, touching men, and sharing drinks at a gathering.
Some viewers said the excessive control explains the reality show's success.
“When domestic shows are banned over a few seconds of dancing, people turn to Eternal Love, where at least they can watch without censorship,” one user wrote on X.
The online newspaper Faraz drew a direct link between the two events. In a report titled From Savushun’s Ban to Eternal Love’s Rise: Censorship in the Age of Choice, the paper wrote: “The sudden halt of Savushun, coinciding with the undeniable surge of Eternal Love on YouTube, is a fitting moment to re-examine how the official system deals with social, emotional and cultural narratives.”
“Today’s audience no longer waits for the approval of regulatory bodies; they make their own choices and follow content on platforms that speak the language and rhythm of real life."
“In such a context, censorship and bans no longer act as deterrents—they become triggers for attention and, in some cases, forms of indirect advertisement.”
Yet some analysts voiced concern. “Eternal Love targets the weaknesses of Iranian culture and has presented itself on social media by riding a wave of illusion,” sociologist Alireza Sharifi Yazdi said in an interview with the Hamshahri newspaper.
“Such cultural engineering leads to the weakening of deep and healthy relationships among young people.”
Other viewers were less harsh. “Maybe it’s shallow,” one Instagram user commented, “but at least it shows something that exists in society—something no one dares to talk about.”
State silence meets public curiosity
Though Iran’s state media have remained silent on Eternal Love, its reach has grown rapidly. Within weeks of launch, the show topped Persian-language viewership charts on YouTube.
Host Parastoo Salehi, once a fixture of state television, dismissed the silence during a livestream: “When you attack something, people want to see it even more.”
She emphasized that she had no hand in developing the show’s format or selecting contestants.
“I just show up and talk,” Salehi said. “I'm not a psychologist. I'm just gabbing.”
Yet criticism persists. Actress Shohreh Soltani described the show’s name as an affront to classical notions of love. “Calling this ‘eternal love’ is a disgrace to the concept,” she said, referencing Iranian literary archetypes like Layla and Majnun.
Farhikhtegan, a conservative daily, called the show “filthy lust marketed as freedom.”
Gozare 24, in a separate editorial, argued: “It’s a mix of superficiality, vulgarity, and a distorted view of love and commitment. Yet its massive viewership, despite sharp criticism, shows how sensational and contrived content still captures attention.”
Revenue rises despite VPN access
Eternal Love has released 27 episodes on YouTube as of June 3, 2025. The first episode alone reached approximately 7 million views, while subsequent installments have each attracted between 3 and 4.5 million views.
YouTube compensates creators based on Cost Per Mille (CPM), with rates ranging from $2 to $12 per 1,000 views.
But because much of Eternal Love’s audience accesses the platform via VPNs from Iran—where ad targeting is limited and advertiser confidence is low—the effective CPM is likely near the lower end of the scale. After YouTube’s 45% share, creators typically retain 55% of revenue.
Conservative estimates would put their total YouTube revenue for the show from around $210,000 to $520,000, far below unsubstantiated guesses online of over $1 million in profits.
Mirror for a suppressed generation
As Iran’s cultural bureaucracy tightens its grip on domestic production, Eternal Love offers something different—not depth, say critics, but visibility.
For a younger generation raised under pervasive censorship, the show appears to reflect a version of lived experience, however stylized or exaggerated.
“There is a hunger for real representation,” wrote one user on X. “And if it cannot be created inside Iran, it will be created outside.”
Whether Eternal Love represents social reality or market-driven spectacle, its rise signals a shift.
In trying to silence depictions of romance and lifestyle, the Islamic Republic has not eliminated them—it has simply handed the narrative to others, filming abroad, funded by unknown parties' sponsors and streamed into Iranian homes via VPNs.
From scorched household appliances to destroyed crops and collapsing businesses, Iranians describe a national infrastructure crisis they say is pushing them into ruin.
Below are excerpts from voice messages sent to Iran International’s platform for citizen testimonies.
'How are we supposed to survive?'
A farmer from Semnan province in northeastern Iran sent a passionate voice message describing how repeated blackouts have destroyed his equipment and ruined his harvests.
“My irrigation pump has burned out twice,” he said. “Where am I supposed to find 800 million tomans ($9,670)? I’m a village farmer. We’re being crushed.”
The average monthly income in Iran is about $150.
He said blackouts come every five or six hours, killing crops and rendering farming impossible. “They’ve destroyed agriculture, the backbone of our economy. They’ve turned the clock back 1,400 years.”
Expressing broader political anger, he added, “As long as we sit and do nothing, they’ll keep dragging us backward—to the Qajar era, even the Safavid. They aren’t here to help us. They’re here to humiliate us.”
Businesses collapsing: 'I had to buy used fridges again'
A small supermarket owner shared how frequent power cuts ruined expensive appliances—even with surge protectors.
“My dairy fridge and ice cream freezer burned out. I had to replace them with second-hand ones,” he said.
Even those whose businesses are not directly affected by outages expressed sorrow. “I don’t work with electricity, but when I see shopkeepers sitting helplessly outside their stores, it breaks my heart,” one person said. “When will we wake up?”
'God help the sick': Medical risks from power loss
Another voice message warned of life-threatening consequences from blackouts.
“Our bread dough spoils. Appliances burn out. But the real danger is for families who rely on oxygen machines,” the speaker said. “When the power cuts, they might lose a loved one.”
She called the blackouts a clear sign of state failure: “These blackouts prove the regime’s total incompetence. Only real change can fix this. God willing, the people will rise.”
Wrecked appliances
Many described a constant cycle of broken appliances and unbearable heat.
“I burn out a cooler motor every week,” said one angry resident.
Others reported fridges and air conditioners failing due to voltage spikes. “This isn’t just about heat. It’s engineered poverty. Engineered unemployment. Engineered misery,” another added.
A voice message captured the mood in one bitter list: “No jobs. No water. No power. No future. Even morality is breaking down. And it’s all by design.”
Priorities
Multiple speakers criticized the government’s priorities—pursuing military ambitions while ordinary Iranians suffer without basic utilities.
“They’ve been chasing nuclear power for 30 years,” one man said. “But they can’t provide a single kilowatt of electricity for the people.”
The comments come as Iran and the United States remain locked in faltering nuclear negotiations, with apparent mixed signals from Washington fueling uncertainty in Tehran.
He praised Iran’s truck drivers for their recent strikes and urged others to resist. “We have to stop watching each other suffer in silence. This is a war. And it’s being waged against us.”
Truck drivers are now on the 13th day of a nationwide strike, with actions reported in over 150 cities and towns despite growing government pressure.
