Syria’s Jack Nicholson speaks to Forward

Abbas Alnouri is probably the most popular actor today in Syria. Talented, charming, and proud, he spoke to FW: Magazine from his home in Damascus about his popular roles in Damascene dramas, depicting daily life in the Ottoman Era and under the French Mandate.

Let us start with your latest work, “Abu Jaafar al-Mansour,” which aired on Arabic satellite TV last September. The historical epic, about one of the most famous figures in our ancient history, earned high reviews. Critics particularly noted your performance in the lead role.

Society cannot accept historical realities, and that is why our Arab and Islamic history are tailor-made to suite public taste. Reality is harsh and can have a tremendous outcome on our current situation. A lot of blood was shed in our history, and this was not depicted fully in the TV series. Historical works require a lot of courage; to promote views that are different from what we are accustomed to hearing. I worked hard to fix some of the mistakes that were mentioned in this series. When we worked on this television drama, we were not expecting favorable outcomes; we were awaiting criticism from the Arab mindset.

You also presented a controversial character in another recent release, “Laysa Saraban” (Not a Mirage), a work that deals with secularism and inter-marriage between religions. Both these topics were for long considered taboo in Arabic television. Can you tell us more about it?

Jalal – the character I played – was very similar to me in real life. I believe in the same ideals that he believes in, especially secularism. I do not preach it out of anti-religiousness, however. I respect the holiness of religion, knowing very well that it is forbidden to abolish it. We are allowed to tackle it, however, through dialogue. To discuss means to re-discover other factors that can form a society that steers clear from religion. In today’s world, we are facing a culture of hate; those who belong to one religion refuse – or are refused – by other religions or sects. I believe in God, and no one can mediate between us except faith. Trying to abolish religion is like trying to liberate Palestine in a minute! On a personal level, I did not get married to a woman from my sect; I broke all taboos. My decision did not mean, however, that I do not respect the lifestyle and beliefs of my family. The main message from this TV drama was to get people to think out loud, away from fear, intimidation, and religious trappings. We have to break away from the phobias created by religion. Only then will we achieve freedom.

You speak about phobias, different religions, and freedom. As a father of three children, how do you deal with these critical issues home?

Everything is inherited from our parents—even faith. We should not inherit their thoughts, however, or our identity. Otherwise, we will become an echo; and history will never move forward. A nation with invariant history should be hanged as a portrait; it will not progress. It cannot move in the right direction. Personally I tried to avoid this problem with my children. They have to search and think; to reach decisions on their own when it comes to faith. Within our house are the keys to their knowledge. I learned from my children as much as I did from my parents. I think that I built strong characters for my children because deep inside, they are free.

What can you tell us about your experience with young director Muthana Subh, who directed “Laysa Saraban?”

I have known Muthana since he worked as an assistant at the costume department for Syrian television dramas. I love him because he is a man who adores his work. To be honest, when we first worked together in “Ala Haffet al-Hawiya” (On the Brink), I was somewhat overworked. I then realized that I was working with a professional director, not someone who was just getting started. “Laysa Saraban” solidified our working relationship.

You excelled in several Syrian TV dramas, dealing with life in Old Damascus, during the Ottoman Empire and under the French Mandate. Aren’t you afraid that these timeless classics, in which you portrayed very popular characters, like Omar, the rich merchant, or Abu Issam, the barber in “Bab al-Hara,” would typecast you into “Damascene works?”

Several stars in the Arab world did face this problem; creating lovable characters that they could no longer escape, because of their popularity in the Arab world. It happened to Duraid Lahham with the character of “Ghawwar,” Rafiq Sbei with “Abu Sayah,” and Nihad Quali with “Hosni al-Bourazan” [three popular TV characters from the black and white era]. Each of these characters became an iconic symbol in our lives; trapped in the minds of audiences in a “golden cage.” That is why I was afraid that the characters of Omar or Abu Issam would dominate me, because of their popularity. I think I broke the typecast, however, by working with ambitious young directors like Seif al-Din Sbei and Muthana Subh.

There are other sides to art, like theater and cinema. As a Syrian actor, how do you rate the performance of those, given that they are far less developed than Syrian drama?

Creativity needs all forms of art, TV drama, cinema, and theater. Creativity cannot blossom in a world of phobias and fears. That is why we do not have real cinema and theater in Syria, with all due respect to those working in these professions. Add to that the low wages paid to actors and artists working in both domains, and that explains why television drama is on the rise, while both genres are not.

On the personal side of Abbas Alnouri, what can you tell us about your childhood, youth, and inner dreams?

I belong to a traditional family. My father is an imitative person, who thinks that working is more important than studying. When I was fifteen years old, I was expelled from all schools in Syria due to an affray with the head-teacher at my school. My father advised me to learn his profession and become a mechanic, but I didn’t see a future there. I never stopped reading and decided to study the baccalaureate (Syrian high school) in secret, while working. After graduating, I decided to major in history—against my father’s will. Those three years, between the age or 15 and 18, were very important in building my character, and establishing my ambitions, goals, and affiliations. I choose the artistic route because I had thoughts that can only be expressed by an actor.