{"id":5536,"date":"2020-12-21T17:01:58","date_gmt":"2020-12-21T16:01:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/prod-2018.frictions.co\/?p=5536"},"modified":"2021-02-12T12:02:20","modified_gmt":"2021-02-12T11:02:20","slug":"le-role-de-sa-vie","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/prod-2018.frictions.co\/english\/from-the-block-to-the-world\/the-role-of-his-life\/","title":{"rendered":"The Role of his Life"},"content":{"rendered":"
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The Thalys heads for Brussels. Sitting towards the rear of the carriage, next to the window in a set of 4 club seats, separated from the hallway by a glass panel, his press attach\u00e9 is next to him.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

He motions for us to join them.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

H\u00e9l\u00e8ne, my boss, the editor-in-chief, practically falls into his arms in a noisy, exaggerated show of effusion. She simpers in exactly the way that 40-something teenagers who wear Zadig & Voltaire should simper:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cElias\u2026Oh, Elias, still as handsome as ever, I see! What do you do to get such beautiful skin? What\u2019s your secret, eh? Go on, tell me! Courchevel? Santa Monica? Tulum?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

I feel a bit embarrassed for her, for both of us actually. Whatever happened to keeping \u201cjournalistic distance\u201d?<\/span><\/p>\r\n

Each of his answers comes with a ravaging smile, hands running through his magnificent crop of curled hair, and a hint of suppressed laughter. In fact, he too puts on simpering airs, only he has talent for it.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

Perhaps it's because I\u2019ve seen his face plastered everywhere for months, but I find his face luminous, surreal and yet at the same time, familiar\u2026 cinematic . That\u2019s it, cinematic. Well I guess the guy who played the lead role in Danse avec les Djiins (in English \u201cDance with the Djinnis\u201d) would have a face made for the silver screen, after all.<\/p>\r\n

The press attach\u00e9, a 30-something Eurasian with crimson lips, stares me down as if to say <\/span>who\u2019s she?<\/span><\/em>  <\/span><\/p>\r\n

My boss jumps in:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cThat\u2019s Mathilde, our trainee. She works on our website, creating social media content\u2026 Since the <\/span>New York Times<\/span><\/em> does it and <\/span>Vice<\/span><\/em> is popular among the young ones, it\u2019s become incredibly trendy. Our publisher swears by it. But hey, I\u2019m not so sure that 15 second video clips are what\u2019ll save a doomed profession from planned obsolescence\u2026\u201d <\/span><\/p>\r\n

It\u2019s a line she uses every time she introduces me\u2026 Fake self-mockery that always comes with a laugh as embarrassing as a Like on her own Facebook status.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

I set up my equipment, drawing attention away from this awkward moment: GoPro camera clamped to the armrest of my seat, smartphone as a backup, I ask the actor if I can clip my microphone to his jacket. My casualness is not met with approval.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cWhere are your manners Mathilde? We\u2019re not in a rush! Let Elias take the time to feel at ease,\u201d blurts out the editor-in-chief, annoyed at having someone else set the pace. The actor comes to my rescue:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cShe\u2019s right. The journey to Brussels is short, better to start right away!\u201d <\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cTwenty-six days to go Mathilde, only twenty-six days\u2026 and then you won\u2019t have to put up with this b----\u2026\u201d. The mere<\/span> thought is all it takes for an SMS from Laetitia to pop up on my smartphone\u2019s screen: <\/span>\u201cSurviving the bitch?<\/span><\/em> And is he as handsome in real life?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

Panic-stricken, I snatch the device from the table. <\/span>H\u00e9l\u00e8ne<\/span> is still banging on relentlessly. But thankfully she doesn\u2019t seem to have noticed the message. He, on the other hand, apparently has. I can read an irrepressible desire to laugh in those green, almond-shaped eyes. He gives me a slight twitch of an eyebrow. He really is a handsome bastard. I blush, or something like that. For God\u2019s sake, the last thing I need is to start simpering too\u2026 The press attach\u00e9 is annoyed not to know what\u2019s behind this sudden complicity. She scowls at me. It\u2019s official, we won\u2019t go on holidays together\u2026<\/span><\/p>\r\n

Busy rummaging through her bag looking for a notebook, the editor-in-chief, is oblivious to this skirmish. Now with her little Moleskine on her lap, she has the appearance of a student, like Sophie Marceau in an old film from <\/span>the eighties.<\/span><\/em>She puts her first question to the actor, about his rapport with the world of culture in general, and with the cinema in particular. A bemused flash glints <\/span>qui traverse son regard a<\/span>in his eyes before disappearing behind a smirk. I\u2019ve seen it dozens of times, that flash. Live or recorded, more or less fleeting, from actors, directors, singers, writers, politicians\u2026 In short, anyone whose job it is to endlessly remind the audience who they are. It means <\/span>If I told you<\/span><\/em> what I really think, you could write an excellent article, but for me, my career would be over.<\/span><\/em>However, his answer is more surprising than what I imagined:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cWell, you know\u2026 the milieu, I know nothing about it really. They talk a lot, they know everything. Me, I perform. I am just passing through.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cJust passing through, really? Twenty-two million spectators in France, sixty million worldwide, a Cesar for the Most Promising Actor, the Best Actor Award at Cannes, on your way to an Oscar\u2026\u201d <\/span><\/p>\r\n

The actor hunkers down in his seat, as if crushed beneath the weight of the awards.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cOf course, it is incredible\u2026 far beyond my wildest dreams. Insane, as the kids would say nowadays. But I\u2019m aware that it can all cease just as fast as it began.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cI\u2019ve heard that the night you walked up the red carpet in Cannes, you went back to your hotel room early to be at work on time the next day\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cAnd why wouldn\u2019t that be true? I was spotted during an open casting call. Shooting for <\/span>Danse avec les <\/span><\/em>Djinns<\/em> took six weeks over the summer. When I got back, as far as my coworkers were concerned, I had just taken longer holidays than usual, that\u2019s all. When the film came out the next year, I was nearly as surprised as them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cListening to you, one could think that you\u2019d never wanted to become an actor?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cThat\u2019s right, I never wanted to be an actor.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

Glacial silence in the club 4. The press officer shot a piercing look at the GoPro, which hadn\u2019t missed anything of the discussion. I can\u2019t help but drool thinking of the buzz created by such a <\/span>tiny sentence<\/span><\/em>Nirvana in less than 140 characters. But the actor continues after two interminable seconds:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cAs a teenager, I spent all my time at the movies. I went there three, four, five times a week, until it gave me a headache. At sixteen, you start wanting something else. Charleville-M\u00e9zi\u00e8res, it\u2019s 50,000 inhabitants and nothing much to do once school\u2019s out\u2026 The last bus runs at 19:30 and after that, the city sleeps. As I\u2019m not Rimbaud, it\u2019s movies that allowed me to escape. Later, my interest in what I was seeing grew, and the virus spread from there. I never wanted to be an actor, but I always wanted to be a player. It just took time to allow myself to do it. In my family, being an artist was not considered a profession. A hobby, at best.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cSo what happened between Charleville-M\u00e9zi\u00e8res and Danse avec les Djinns?<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\r\n

\u201cWhat happened\u2026 well, 15 years happened, that\u2019s what. An engineering degree, a bachelor\u2019s degree in Cinema in parallel, a few failed castings, a job in Paris, a lucky encounter, a first film.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cThen what?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

H\u00e9l\u00e8ne browses through her Moleskine, seemingly intrigued. She goes on:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cIt\u2019s rare to hear you talk about your vocation, your journey\u2026\u201d <\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cSome media are so good at making up a life for me\u2026 that I don\u2019t even need to talk about it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cYou\u2019re referring to the scandal following your appearance in\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

Here, he<\/span> interrupts her as if he didn\u2019t even want to hear the name of the show being pronounced.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cWell that was my own fault really. I went into it without thinking, and it turned out to be an ambush. Ten days after the November attacks, with those people around the table, it was sure to go wrong\u2026\u201d<\/p>\r\n

\u201cDo you regret what you said?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cNo, I don\u2019t regret anything. Regret isn\u2019t my thing. But that said, I shouldn\u2019t have taken part in that debate. I\u2019m an actor who came to talk about a film. I\u2019m not the guy from Bonjour Tristesse<\/i> (French \u201cHello, Sadness\u201d).\u201d<\/p>\r\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t believe in engagement?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cDid I say that? I said: <\/span>I shouldn\u2019t have taken part in that debate.<\/span><\/em>You conclude: <\/span>He doesn\u2019t believe in engagement.<\/span><\/em>Unbelievable!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cElias Seidah, you are the one playing the innocent here. You went to promote a film in which the main character, Ilyes, guided by Djinnis\u2019 voices \u2013 that is, supernatural beings from Muslim mystic tradition \u2013 holds hostage his coworkers at the bank where he works, before going on a spectacular chase around Europe. Isn\u2019t this an understandable parallel with the identity crisis of some young French people from immigrant backgrounds who end up falling into the arms of jihad?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cWhat do you mean, no? Sorry to say this, but that\u2019s going beyond naive \u2014 it\u2019s outright bad faith.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cBad faith ? The only bad is how you pitch the film. The first time I went through the script, that\u2019s not what I read at all. For me, it\u2019s the story of a guy whose life goes haywire after a heartbreak, a kind of a <\/span>Taxi Driver<\/span><\/em> from the 2010s. The topic isn\u2019t Islamist terrorism at all.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

H\u00e9l\u00e8ne's face fills with skepticism. He gathers steam:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cEven if that were the case, I don\u2019t see how revealing my and my family\u2019s story would have enlightened the debate\u2026\u201d <\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cEven so, your words were widely picked up on the web, including various community media \u2013 the <\/span>muslimosphere<\/span><\/em>, as some refer to it \u2013 who found in you an opinion leader.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cAnd if I told you that my father was born Lebanese and Catholic, should I become the spokesman for Middle Eastern Christians?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

The actor is on edge, but it\u2019s the press attach\u00e9 who scares me: in her gaze, I could see the irrepressible desire to smash the GoPro in order to erase all proof of this discussion.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

Elias sighs deeply, closing his eyes. Then, in a monotone like a mantra repeated to himself\u2026<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cI am nobody\u2019s opinion leader. I do not represent anyone. This is a performance. I am in a film.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

Right at that moment, the words escaped from me:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cBut you can understand that what you say holds importance, that some people find comfort in your words, your story, your trajectory, especially in those hard times.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

I expect my boss to pounce on me for encroaching on her territory, but instead she says nothing. We waited with bated breath for him to respond. He looks away, as if to gather his thoughts. Narrowed eyes, a disillusioned smile stretching his face, it\u2019s Ilyes, his nemesis on <\/span>Danse avec les Djinns<\/span><\/em> who makes his appearance. Only for a few seconds. The actor regains a foothold, and concedes:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cI understand that\u2026 I understand it all too well. Even before getting into cinema I knew only too well the impact of a name, a face, an image on people\u2019s opinion. My middle name is Michel. As a child, when I went to my mother\u2019s family for holidays, that\u2019s what they called me. In the village, that\u2019s how my grandmother introduced me to friends, to neighbors. She found it easier. She would say that I had a name that didn\u2019t go with my face. And so, to make them happy, I acted as Michel three weeks a year. So there you have it, your story about a vocation.\u201d<\/p>\r\n

\u201cSpeaking of which, do you\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cCoffee, I need a coffee. Let\u2019s take a break, do you mind?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

It\u2019s a question that doesn\u2019t wait for an answer. He has already jumped out of his seat, slipped around the glass partition. The press attach\u00e9 just manages to grab him by the arm:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cWhere are you going? You want a coffee? I\u2019ll go get it for you!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

- <\/span>\u201cKeep calm,<\/span><\/em>Valentine. I just need to get some air, to stretch my legs\u2026 a 15-hour flight then that, I\u2019ve maxed out.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cElias\u2026! But, wait, I\u2019m telling you\u2026 You\u2019re not in L.A anymore, wake up\u2026!\"<\/span><\/p>\r\n

She takes a baseball cap from her bag and asks him to put it on. The actor screws up his face like a kid refusing to put on his coat on a sunny winter day. But he ends up doing it. I ask the editor-in-chief if I should follow him to get a few mood shots. She\u2019s deeply focused on her notes. \u201cGo ahead, go ahead, but keep a low profile,\u201d she whispers without looking at me. The press attach\u00e9, ready to go with us, is held back by a phone call.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

In First Class, the suits have their eyes glued to their screens, discussing in hushed tones the customer meeting that awaits them in Brussels or that they have just left behind them in Paris. Elias makes his way incognito through the two wagons that separate us from the dining car. Leaning on the counter, he orders his coffee, jokes with the pretty waitress, asks her where she comes from in Belgium \u201cAh, Antwerp? Flemish, then?\u201d Then he continues in the same charming tone in the young lady\u2019s native language. She blushes, or something like that. Fawning, etc. He swallows his coffee in one gulp, giving me an amused look. I am <\/span>Lost in translation<\/span><\/em>And he knows it. He knows that I\u2019m dying to ask him for explanations. Did little Michel speak Flemish with his grandmother? Who is this father to whom he owes his name? But I feign indifference, taking a picture of him and posting a live tweet from the magazine\u2019s account: <\/span>On our way to Brussels with @EliasSeidahOfficial. Coming soon, the premiere of his new film #Fratelli by Stefano Sollima #DanseAvecLesDjinnsMeetsGomorra.<\/span><\/em>The picture is immediately retweeted a hundred times. My smartphone is purring with pleasure. I show him the screen, but he\u2019s not very impressed. \u201cYou want to see the <\/span>real thing ?\"<\/span><\/em> He takes his smartphone out of his pocket and reposts the picture on Instagram. His device instantly develops Parkinson\u2019s due to the deluge of notifications. Chain reaction: two teenagers, a black guy as thin as a rake, and a blond one with a round face, are filming with their cell phones from the other side of the car. \u201cGo ahead snap, brother. Snap!\u201d says the liveliest of the two to the other one. From afar, I hear \u201csnipe\u201d. And the warrior-like pose they have struck with their device is questionable\u2026 Valentine, the press attach\u00e9, arrives in a fury:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cYou\u2019re going too far! I told you not to post anything, it\u2019s going to be another shitshow when we get there.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\r\n

Bingo. Twenty minutes later, at the Brussels-Midi station, a large crowd of curious people have gathered behind the safety cordon, smartphones in hand.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

The Thalys\u2019 chief conductor, a little grumpy, helps us reach the parking lot through a back door. A black sedan is waiting for us. Elias sits in the front. The driver, an Arab in his twenties, eyes him nervously as if he had Al Pacino next to him. He has trouble breathing and is shaking slightly. A heart attack is around the corner\u2026 In the back, I am stuck between two women angry at me, one for tweeting without asking for her approval, the other for not mentioning her in my post. Great vibes.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

When we arrive, the screening is already over. Elias Seidah joins the Italian director, Stefano Sollima, in the press conference. The final question is for the actor. A German journalist points out that in <\/span>Fratelli,<\/span><\/em> like <\/span>Danse avec les Djinns<\/span><\/em>, the character he plays has mystical visions and has a tortured relationship to identity, before asking him if he drew on personal experiences to prepare for these roles. Elias has the same weary expression as on the train. He tries to defuse the question:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cThey are outsiders, I\u2019m an outsider. It\u2019s a good start for getting into character, I guess. As for the rest, I don\u2019t hear voices if that makes you feel better\u2026\u201d<\/p>\r\n

Cleverly evasive reply. A brief chuckle ripples across the audience. A French journalist insists:<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cAnd the relationship to identity?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cWhich identity?\u201d asks Elias, surprised, as if he was asked for news about someone he\u2019d never met.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

The host closes the Q&A session. Cocktails are served. The actor is the center of attention. He smiles, repeats over and over again with candor: \u201cAh yes, really?\u201d as if he was expecting someone to come up and tell him that it was all just an aside. That he is still little Elias who played the role of Michel one summer.<\/p>\r\n

Just passing through.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

After that, we get back on the train, the actor sits by the window, his press attach\u00e9 beside him, H\u00e9l\u00e8ne and I in a club 4. We could continue with the interview, gather his impressions, but he is looking out the window, his white headphones on. The landscape is gray, ordinary. Fields, houses, a few apartment blocks. No longer a cityscape, nor countryside. He seems to be searching for something to fix his attention on. An anchor. A role.<\/span><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

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Don't miss the next stories ...!<\/p><\/div><\/div>

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