By Lubna Abdel-Aziz Youssef Chahine is dead! The world of Egyptian cinema is now shrouded in total darkness. Its sole silvery light has been dimmed. Amidst the deluge of tears and cheers for the last of Egypt's iconoclastic film directors -- the curtain has finally been drawn on the remnants of the Golden Era of cinema. Separation is painful, and always comes too soon. And so it is for one we all affectionately called "Joe." No matter how long he lived, or how hard he worked, knowing Joe, he had plans for yet another lifetime of joy in film. Despite the sadness, how can we help but celebrate the life of one Youssef Chahine whose life was his art and his art was film. Making films was his raison d'étre, and it was his choice to die making films, rather than live just watching them. He could have retired two decades ago, proud of his rich legacy. He could have locked up his camera, lived a life of leisure, and watched over his health and well-being. But that would have been another Joe, not our Joe! Youssef Chahine died on 27 July following complications of a brain hemorrhage. He was 82. Much will be written about his filmography, biography, style and influence. We shall therefore leave this task to others, and attempt to explore the little known aspects of this enigmatic talent that only few could truly appreciate. The one word that could probably sum up the life and loves of Joe Chahine is passion. He was consumed by a passion for everything in life. Topping this list was film. He talked "shop" day and night and probably during his sleep. More than sadness for his loss we are filled with gratitude for his life. The life he loved with its many challenges, joys and sorrows, ups and downs, triumphs and defeats, virtues and vices, laughter and tears, is the life we celebrate. I met Chahine during the shooting of my first film Al Wissada Al Khaleya ( The Empty Pillow, 1958) directed by Salah Abou Seif. Joe became a frequent visitor at the production company offices to which I was contracted. We would visit every evening and we would talk for hours, mostly about film. We had much in common, other than our love for film. He had studied at the Pasadena Playhouse in Pasadena, California, a workshop for aspiring filmmakers, while I studied theatre within the halls of academia, with a Fulbright Scholarship at the University of California in Los Angeles. We compared notes, experiences, observations and commentaries. we blattered in English, French, Arabic. We dabbled in politics, philosophy, religion and morality. We hummed famous Broadway tunes, we sang popular movie songs. He was a great raconteur, and I was a dedicated listener. All the while we dreamed of a project that would bring us together as actor and director. It was not to be. I went on to fulfil my contractual obligations and Joe went on to dream more dreams. We crossed paths often and followed each other's careers. Every time I saw Joe I saw a reel of film on two very thin legs. Of all his attributes, it was his eyes that hypnotised and haunted. Like the endless depth of the ocean, they were unfathomable. There was much they could reveal, and so much more they could not. Yet who could resist diving to the bottom in search of this dark Delphian mystery that constantly perplexed and puzzled all who approached it. Consciously or unconsciously, Chahine knew that life is for the living, and opted for life. He lived it as best he could, and lived it his way. Luck was on his side, His work was motion pictures, his love was dreaming motion pictures, and his life was making motion pictures. Shooting images to tell his story through the eyes of the camera was his utmost thrill. The camera was his life's partner. What he could not tell the world he could tell his camera, privately and intimately. It was a mutual love. Like an organ or a limb, the camera obeyed his every command. It replaced his eyes, his heart, his soul, and enabled him to offer the world a priceless legacy of immeasurable value. Like every directeur/auteur he conceived his own ideas for film, wrote or co-wrote them, cast them, selected the music, edited them and babied them every step of the way. Invariably he would fall in love with his cast and they were possessed by him throughout the duration of the shoot. Was Youssef Chahine a happy man? With all the accolades, adulations, honours and tributes, surely any man would be. Chahine was a happy man. But being the bewildering, enigmatic, mass of contradiction that he was, he was always reaching for the unreachable. Neither an open book, nor a sphinx-like riddle, it was clear that he was always searching. Had he found what he was searching for, it may have been the death knell of his talent. His genius lay in the search. Of slight stature, seemingly overworked and undernourished, he had the mental energy of a giant. Sometimes he thought he had the body of a giant as well. But he did not. Two decades ago he suffered a heart attack and has been frail and ailing ever since. Rather than follow his doctor's advice, Chahine again followed his heart. Indifferent to nothing, Chahine served his Muse with profound and total dedication. He was himself a moving camera, recording everything from corrupt politics to sterile poverty. He felt acutely the sublime majesty of Beauty as well as the lowly malice of the Beast, in all of mankind. He was the bright light that lit the movie world of his native Egypt. With Chahine gone, will this darkness ever be lit again! Do not go gentle into that goodnight, ......Rage, rage at the dying of the light. -- Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)
