Ahmed Rateb : The clueless turns out to be rather astute A pragmatic prognosis Profile by Youssef Rakha

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"I like acting in a general way," he still insists. "I am as interested in theatre as I am in cinema and television; I don't find myself any more in one medium than in another. So long as it is acting, so long as there's a part that interests me, I will do it"

Young, lean, oaffish and -- it must be said -- pitiably clueless: such is the most abiding image of Ahmed Rateb. Promulgated in a series of supporting roles at the start of his career in the late 1980s and early 1990s, it has acquired a permanent place in the popular imagination. And despite the many different inflections he has since given to his voice, Rateb's remains an instantly recognisable persona. He may not be an actor who always plays the same character, yet he can hardly be described as a method actor. In numerous roles he rather combines the two orientations, building specific character traits and a different sense of identity around the same locus of expressions and gestures. An essential part of his appeal is that he induces laughter, yet it would be inaccurate to describe him as a comedian. He is more sensibly seen as belonging to the tradition of the street entertainer -- a man capable not only of making you laugh but of telling you a story and invoking a variety of dramatic complexities in your mind; when called upon to do so, he can conjure up distress and fury, even tragedy. And he does so without apparent effort, without the need for self transformation. It is to Rateb's credit that he has never resented the position of supporting actor, preferring to make his mark through the subtle and subdued antics of the well-known actor who performs alongside the star, facilitating the latter's efforts while making an essential contribution to the shape of the drama.

Embark on a meeting with Rateb with all this in mind, however, and the encounter will prove profoundly disorienting. Unlike the simple clothing of his best known young-man characters the by now palpably middle-aged actor is dressed in an Hawaiian shirt -- one of many, judging by the press photos he offers. During the conversation he refuses to specify the year of his birth -- eager, perhaps, to appear younger than he is -- an unnecessary precaution considering that, never a heartthrob anyway, Rateb is only in his early 50s. He is brief, almost curt in the way he approaches the press; and his to-the-point statements seem to downplay the human dimension of his story -- so much so that one walks out of the Hosapir Theatre, where the encounter took place prior to a rehearsal, feeling less familiar with Rateb than before. Accompanied at all times by a young assistant who answers the phone, carries scripts and lights cigarettes, Rateb is projected as a businessman of sorts; beyond all else he stresses the self-confident mannerisms and cautious attitude of the generic public figure, his carefully premeditated responses, while ensuring an appearance of respectability and seriousness, eliminate all the warmth, laughter and fun. Self-aware in a restrictive way, Rateb turns out to be the diametrical opposite of his multi-faceted dramatic persona.

"Must we discuss all that once again?" he responds to questions about his childhood and early relationship with acting. "It's all been said, you know, many times." Yet it takes little persuasion for him to begin, in a voice that will remain reluctant.

"Acting as a hobby started when I saw my brothers acting in the university theatre. I was very young then, but I determined I would follow suit. The chance presented itself while I was a primary student and I participated in a school play. The response was very positive."

Rateb seems eager to justify his decision to take up acting in the first place. "From then on it became my hobby. I never stopped doing it since."

Rateb enrolled at both the Faculty of Engineering and the Institute of Theatrical Arts, Cairo University, graduating from the former in 1985, from the latter in 1984.

"My sole objective throughout these years was to learn, because it wasn't my concern as yet whether or not I would become an actor. Many people will tell you that they'd always wanted to be actors, that they were born with that vocation, as it were. And it may well be true, but it's not the case with me. Acting had always been a hobby -- one that I eventually wanted to build on, it is true -- but never such a clear-cut objective in its own right. I think I've always been realistic in that the decisions I've made about work and life have always emerged out of the immediate circumstances; I've never had too grand an ambition; and becoming a star certainly wasn't on my agenda..."

Yet on graduating Rateb accepted employment not as an engineer but as a Tali'a Theatre actor.

"On being appointed I presented roles that proved successful. This is where the encouragement initially came from. I also undertook two directorial experiences that were equally successful -- acting and directing were not separate disciplines at the Institute -- but I soon decided that I wanted to be an actor only. That was perhaps the first self-conscious decision in my professional career in the performance arts. Directing didn't appeal to me in the way acting had. And then, and this is an important point to take account of, I didn't feel I would grow as much or reach the same level of accomplishment, in time. So I became a devoted actor and nothing else. The Tali'a stage provided numerous opportunities both to demonstrate what talent I had and to continue learning and building on the skills I had acquired."

More to the point, it provided a gateway into the professional world -- a dream realm to which Rateb had aspired since childhood.

"I wasn't only drawn to the acting itself," he recalls. "I was also fascinated by all the surrounding paraphernalia -- the glamour, the costumes, the spotlights. It was a world I wanted to be part of even if I didn't plan on being an actor as such. The Tali'a Theatre provided me with that opportunity, and I was at a crossroads. Again, I didn't necessarily feel that at the time. But I was."

Rateb is momentarily interrupted by the entry of several colleagues, as if to underline the transition from the first phase of his career to the next one. He motions to his assistant for another cigarette, never looking his interlocutor in the eye. Once again his voice assumes that slightly over-confident tone.

"You are with me, I hope? Where did we get to?"

Puffing smoke while he casts a sidelong glance at the cafeteria entrance to find out who else has arrived, Rateb continues.

"What happened was that al-wasat al-fanni," an expression that literally means "the artistic sphere", but in reality refers, with somewhat enticing connotations of glamour and money, to the lifestyle of popular performers, "began to talk about me. Through no particular effort of my own I was being recognised as a promising actor, and this paved my way into the professional world. And it was in this way that I eventually believed myself to be an actor, when others -- the audience, and in this case it is the audience that counts -- began to see me as one. It wasn't a question of gaining confidence, either, and I can tell you in all honesty that I never stopped learning. The point was simply to have focus in the way I viewed my life and work. And to perform to the satisfaction of those who supported me, and hence to the satisfaction of my audience. It was at this point that [comedians like] Adel Imam and Fouad El-Mohandes began to call on me to perform with them, and that's how the journey to stardom started."

Stardom? Rateb seems to take it for granted. On the complications of fame he supplies what must be this conversation's most potent statement of purpose, and the one that incorporates the deepest insight into his character: "I am essentially a self-sufficient character, in the sense that I work on myself. My struggles are with myself. Since early youth I've held the belief that, in order to be successful you have to put pressure not on others but on yourself. The winner is the man who beats himself. And it is this conviction that enabled me to endure any setbacks or negative episodes through my career. I can endure. So to answer your initial question, stardom is not something that I purposely achieved in order to impress myself on others. And it is not something you can impress on yourself except as a sense of self-realisation which remains forever incomplete. I endure, and I function in close conjunction with reality, I mean what reality has to offer. That's what I take. I don't set my sights on more or better. I just keep going. And this is also why I do not live my stardom, as it were. I only live my life. So stardom has changed my life very little. There is a sense of being more mature, of course. There is increased confidence about the future, both financial and social. But other than that stardom has done very little, really.

"I am married to my cousin," Rateb continues. "My private life, my family life is completely ordinary. It has nothing to do with al-wasat al-fanni, no. I have three daughters. The eldest is now married, and the other two are secondary school students still. It's an average family, a completely ordinary family. And I am a very ordinary husband and father. Stardom has certainly not affected that part of my life. And this is partly what I mean when I say that I live not my stardom but my life. You could probably even spot me on my way home carrying a watermelon," the quintessential image of the average Egyptian man, usually a married state employee, "so there is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about the way my family functions."

It is perhaps this familiarity, even identity with ordinariness that informs Rateb's immediate appeal. "No doubt when you act you draw on your own experiences, but there is a part that observation plays. And then there is my interest in the character; only through being interested in characters, ordinary characters, can I bring out their extraordinary dimensions or at least make them interesting."

Of the many works to which he has contributed Rateb recalls three that made his name: Sukk ala Banatak (Lock Up Your Daughters ), Qatel ma Qatalsh Hadd (A Killer With No Crime) and Shagaret Al-Herman (The Tree of Deprivation); a play, a film and a television serial, respectively. From the hapless, provincially rooted entomology student to marry one of his professor's three daughters in the first to the by now universally recognised Eleish in the last, Rateb quickly established his versatility. He could be convincing and entertaining in a range of roles; nor was he limited by the medium.

"I like acting in a general way," he still insists. "I am as interested in theatre as I am in cinema and television; I don't find myself any more in one medium than in another. So long as it is acting, so long as there's a part that interests me, I will do it."

The same applies to his sense of specialisation: "I don't think of myself as a comedian, no. You think I'm a comedian? I believe what sets me apart and makes me stand out compared to other actors is that, every time, I offer the audience a new and completely unexpected performance. Neither comedian nor tragedian. Just an actor who looks for new and demanding roles all the time, and hopefully develops with each."

Considering how prolific he has been it may be hard to believe that Rateb rejects any roles. "Of course, many, yes. My criteria for choosing a role concern the value of the work, the message that it conveys, and of course the value of the part itself within the script. A part may occupy a large portion of the script but remain irrelevant, incidental; another, smaller part might be essential to the structure of the whole work, on the other hand. So these are the two things I look for. But of course if I do not like a script I reject it."

Judging by his current entanglements there must be a great many scripts that he does like. Having completed filming Abiad fi Abiad (White and White), a television serial directed by Ahmed Sakr, he is about to complete filming Al-Tagriba Al- Danemarkiya (The Danish Experience), the new Adel Imam film. At the same time he is preparing for a new film to be written and directed by Ihab Lam'i and, at the venue where this conversation took place, is rehearsing Kawkab Miki (Mickey Planet), a children's play in which he provides a new take on the character of Mickey Mouse, "one intended to elucidate the dangers of so called globalisation or Americanisation", written by Nabil Khalaf and directed by Nasser Abdel-Moneim.

Busy schedule aside, does he have time to think about the future?

"As I've mentioned already I don't make too many or too great demands on the world. It was great to work in something written by Naguib Mahfouz, and I'd like to act more in adaptations of the work of novelists like Ihsan Abdel-Quddous, because I like many of his characters. But if you ask me, 'Which role do you aspire to performing?' I can only reply, 'The role that I haven't performed yet.' That's all there is to it really."

Rateb is handed another cigarette which is quickly lit.

"No doubt I have ambitions, it is impossible to be without ambition. But my ambitions are not too mad, not diseased. And it is due to this that I am where I am now. Moderation. I don't have limitless ambitions, my dreams are always realistic. I want those things that are immediately attainable, that I can see and touch. This is the extent of my ambition. And I really think the world could be a far better place if this philosophy were more widely adopted."