By Lubna Abdel-Aziz It was the Golden Era of culture! It was the Golden Age of Cinema! He was the Golden Boy of film! The Golden Age is gone; the Golden Boy is gone. Ahmed Ramzi died last week, but his indelible persona of breezy insouciance will live on in the hearts of all movie lovers for generations to come. He was his own man, and danced to a different drummer. He may not have always walked away with the leading lady, but he always walked away with our love. Ramzi wasted little time doing anything that was not amusing to him. We made three movies together, and he would often catch me with my head buried in a book on the set. He almost took offense and would offer his own brand of wisdom:"Don't read about life", he would say, "live it. That's what I do"; and that he did, indeed! He Valued the gift of life and wasted little time on such trifling things as reading, sleeping, contemplating'; he preferred to channel his passions on life and living. He had a love of merriment and a thirst for amusement. Friends were his precious possession, and his fidelity and devotion were beyond bounds. Ramzi appeared in 85 films in which he played every role, sidekick", "best friend", "confidant", "villain", "lover". "Lover" was not a role he felt comfortable with, still he did oblige in his own inimitable fashion. No soppy lover was he! There was little doubt that he was masculine through and through. Rebellious and intense, he seemed ready to explode, and often did. Both mellow and menacing, he could spell danger, yet the danger was softened somewhat by the sparkle in his eye, and the hint of a smile. Ramzi was Mr. Cool, long before it was fashionable to be cool. I always thought he was rough and rowdy, until I worked with him. Instead, I found him gentle and compassionate, and always a prank up his sleeve, and a chuckle ready with every breath. He laughed hardest at his own jokes, and his laugh was infectious as it came straight from the heart. Of medium build and height, Ramzi looked bigger and taller that he was. It was all in the attitude which he so easily conveyed. His bare chest and broad shoulders sent a message of invincibility, but he could be as vulnerable as a schoolboy on his first day at school. He often spoke of his father, a physician, his mother, a Scottish homemaker, and his brother, also a physician practicing in London. His father had hoped he would join the family profession, but Ramzi had to do it his way. Born Ramzi Mahmoud Bayoumi on March 30, 1930, Ramzi graduated from the exclusive boys' prep school, Victoria College. He was admitted to Cairo University's School of Commerce, but dropped out to join his childhood chum Omar Sharif and try his luck on the screen. Our first memory of him, was as one of a trio of students (Sharif and famous singer Abdel Halim Hafez), all in love with Faten Hamama, the screen's first lady, in the movie, "Ayamna al Helwa", (Our Sweet Days) in 1955. He caught the eye of filmmakers with his shirt unbuttoned to the waist, and his rebellious youth attitude which so fitted the times of the James Dean era. He never stopped working since. He went on to make film after film and on each set, he brought that beloved Ramzi 'cool'. It is not the roles or the movies that we remember, but the screen persona of one who swaggered with ease, with a girl on each arm, a gold chain dangling on his bare chest, and a mischievous smile both sweet and defiant. That was all he needed, and every young blue-blooded male wanted to be Ahmed Ramzi. He commanded the screen and became unforgettable. The facility with which Ramzi handled each role was mind-boggling. While other cast members would be struggling with memorizing lines, getting in the mood, impersonating the character, Ramzi would just sashay in front of the camera, and just do what Ramzi does--just be Ramzi. Vain as men are, there was little vanity in Ramzi, just a deep confidence of who he was, and what he wanted out of life, which was quite simple---to live exactly the way he pleased I often envied him for that. There was no moping, no moaning, no fears, no tears, no restraints and no regret; simply the urge to get on with it. Despite the thinning hair and the extra kilograms, he carried that same unmistakable testosterone-filled magnanimity that so marked his young years. Old age did not amuse him. Riddled by disease, he withdrew to live permanently on the north coast, only to surface briefly for a couple of projects or social occasions.. Omar Sharif was his constant companion. Ahmed el Sakka, his faithful admirer. His beauty was beyond dispute! It was of the merry, arrogant, imperial sort of Don Juanesque breed, that marvelous breed that does not proceed from father to son, like other races,\but only appears here and there, at recurring intervals, in the families of mankind. What we shall always remember of Ramzi is Ramzi -- cool, classy, smashing, dashing, and indubitably that sly smile that turns at the corner of the mouth filling our hearts with genuine joy, "There is only one success -- to be able to spend your life in your own way". -- Christopher Darlington Morley ( 1890-1957)
