The open-air theater of the Cairo Opera House was bathed in soft light this Sunday, November 16, when Khaled El Nabawy took the stage for a meeting with the public, organized as part of the Cairo Industry Days. Four days earlier, the Cairo International Film Festival (CIFF) awarded him the Faten Hamama Prize for Excellence, recognizing a career that has become essential. This conversation, conducted with loving attention by critic Zein Khairy, offered something rare: not a series of memories, but an intimate look at the way in which an actor constructs his life, his art, and even his relationship with the world.
Zein Khairy chose to open the session with a memory that had the delicacy of a mirror effect. He says that twenty-five years ago, his father wrote a script and invited a young actor who was just starting out to his house. When the doorbell rang, it was he, Zein, who went to open it. The actor who entered that day, unknown, shy, concentrated, was the same man he welcomed on stage today, in front of an audience who had come to listen to him. The room smiled, and the distance between the star and the child he had been was suddenly reduced.
A brief video retracing his roles further refined this suspended moment, before Khaled spoke.
What he says first is surprising in its simplicity. He never dreamed of becoming an actor. He was only looking for “ a job that I enjoy and that allows me to earn a living “. His father wanted him to become a doctor. When he enrolled in agriculture, he was not happy; his father was even less so. He spent his days in the cafeteria more than in class, until one day he noticed a door with “Theater” written on it. He pushed her. The director, not wanting passive spectators, asked him to read a text. He read. He was given the lead role. He then decided never to return. But when the director called him back to tell him that his absence would make him a failing student, he returned to rehearsals.
It was during the first rehearsal that he understood. A space had opened up. He felt like he belonged. Without knowing it, he had just found his profession. His mother immediately supported him. His father only accepted after seeing him on stage, in a leading role.
From this almost accidental beginning, Khaled learned a conviction: this profession requires absolute discipline. He talks about it often, but that day, he gave the simplest, clearest version: an actor has no right to be sick, late, or distracted. Too many people depend on him. An entire team can lose a day because of a single misstep. The actor must therefore stand tall, physically and morally, even when tired or in doubt.
This is what he learned at the institute, where his teachers repeated to him that a role, even minimal, is always part of the movement of a group. This is also what Mohamed Abdelaziz, who taught him discipline, transmitted to him; Salah Abou Seif, who told him that a film must always surpass the previous one; and Abdelmonem Madbouly, his theater teacher, of whom he speaks with almost filial tenderness.
The meeting naturally led to the memory of Youssef Chahine. The Emigrant (1994), filmed when he was still very young, came up several times in conversation, like a tipping point. Zein asked him about the famous scene where Ram runs to warn that there is water. The camera was in a car; Khaled ran alongside. Chahine had asked that the actor be tied to the car by a rope, so that they would move at exactly the same speed. “ If the car went too fast, I fell » he said, without dramatizing. It wasn’t bravado: it was the logic of a demanding director.
Even stronger is the scene of the fire, which only appears on screen for a few seconds. On set, he saw the technicians work to the point of exhaustion. It had upset him. “ I felt ashamed “, he confides. It is for them, and for all the invisible people of cinema, that he wanted to dedicate his prize during the opening ceremony.
It is at this moment that one of the most important anecdotes of his career comes back: the one concerning Ines Deghidi. Before Chahine proposed to her The EmigrantKhaled had already signed a contract with her for Disco Disco. When Chahine told him that he needed him and that he had to make himself available for a whole year, Khaled spoke to Ines about it. She could have asked him to respect his commitment. She could have reminded him that a contract is a contract. Instead, she replied: “ Run to Youssef Chahine, I’ll release you from your contract. » He recounts this moment with intact emotion. “ I can’t imagine what my career would have become if she had asked me to stay “, he said. This sentence is full of meaning: it speaks both of the loyalty of Ines Deghidi, the immense influence of Chahine, and the fragility of artistic trajectories, which sometimes depend on a gesture of generosity.
In this conversation, a line clearly emerged: Khaled constructs his role choices according to precise ethics. He refuses characters who look similar. This explains, he says, why he has only made twenty-five films in thirty-five years. He prefers to choose little, but choose justly.
This concern for precision and truth is also found in his way of embodying Arab characters in international productions. He recounts how, in a foreign film, a costume designer wanted him to play a very poorly dressed Iraqi doctor. He had refused. “ A doctor may only have one shirt, but it’s clean. ” In The Citizenhe insisted that his Lebanese character retain its elegance.
This vigilance continued on stage. Playing Sadat in a play in the United States, he refused certain lines, especially during performances intended for students. He did not want them to have a distorted image of the Arabs. He explains: “ We are not weak. We are peaceful, but not weak. We have a culture, and we understand what is in front of us. »
In the midst of these exchanges, several voices rose to testify. Director Kamla Abu Zekri, with whom he worked on Wahat El Ghouroub (2017), spoke. She says she immediately thought of him when reading the novel. She admits to having been a little afraid at the beginning: he had worked with the greatest, especially with Youssef Chahine. Then she discovered an artist who was extraordinarily precise, so much so that, on the first day of filming, he would ask her questions about exactly how to knock on a door or enter a room. She said to herself: “ how are we going to do thirty episodes like that? » She ended up telling him, laughing, that he would be entitled to one question per episode. She claims to have learned a lot from him and concludes by saying that he could have earned more or toured more, but that he always respects his principles.
Producer Gaby Khoury added a note of humor: “ He talked about everyone: the teachers, the technicians, the actors… but not a word about the producers ! »
Journalist Mahmoud Saad recounted a private screening of The Emigrantin the presence of Yousra and Chahine. He didn’t yet know the young actor sitting next to Yousra, but when Ram’s face appeared on the screen, he immediately understood.
A very strong moment came with the Rim Chaker review. She remembered the screening of The Emigrant at the Carthage Cinematographic Days in 1994. The Tunisian public had carried the young actor on their shoulders. She told herself that this sudden success risked losing him. She asked him: “ How did you survive that? » Khaled smiled. He thanked Tunis. He said that Chahine, seeing him like this, had told Gaby that they had to reserve a room for him in a psychiatric asylum, and that Gaby had replied: “not a room, a suite!” »
Then he explained simply that success didn’t go to his head because he saw those who came before him. In addition, he wanted to be part of this history of cinema, with those before him and those who would come after.
His son, the actor Nour El Nabawy, provided valuable insight. He says his father never taught him how to play, but how to live. What he likes about him, he says, is that he talks about ideas, never about people or trivialities. He says he still learns from him today.
Little by little, the portrait that took shape on stage surpassed that of a successful actor. It was the trajectory of a man who, by chance entering a theater, found not a job, but a way of being in the world.
He himself sums up this way in a phrase that he often repeats: “ Be different, even if you have to be alone. »
When he pronounces it, it is neither a moral nor an injunction. This is an observation. This is how he chose his roles, negotiated his contracts, defended the image of Arabs on screen, respected the technicians, learned from elders, and transmitted to his son the meaning of life before that of the game.
That Sunday, in Cairo, the meeting did not just celebrate an actor. It revealed an inner coherence: that of a man who made discipline into elegance, precision into ethics, and dignity into a way of walking in the light.
Neila Driss
