Who's that guy, just a-walkin' down the street?



It's Kais Nashef, the Palestinian-Israeli actor who played Said in Paradise Now.

I found the photo above (click on the link to see all the comments) while browsing through Klemantin's Flickr account. Evidently she just happened to have her camera with her when she saw the actor with his wife, Lara Shahad Zouabi, on Tel Aviv's Dizengoff Street.

The tongue in cheek comments in Hebrew made me snort with laughter:

Anoota: What a hottie!
Lucia: Hot. No doubt.
Klemantin: Girls, calm down.
JeckyS: Ha! It kills me that the sign on the door in front of his wife says, "Push."
Klemantin: That sign is definitely in the right place.

I wrote about the first time I saw Kais, following the Tel Aviv premiere of Paradise Now at the Cinematheque, where the film is still playing, here.

More recently, he played Amir, a theology student in love with Manar (Clara Khoury, who starred in The Syrian Bride and Rana's Wedding), in the Israeli television series Parashat Hashavua (The Weekly Portion, Hebrew Wikipedia entry here).

Parshat Hashavua kind of sucked me in toward the end of the series and made me wish I'd watched it from the beginning (thanks to the wonders of cable, now I can - it's available in re-runs with a click of my remote control). It's directed by Rene Blair (I wrote about him here) and is about four different Israeli couples: Amir and Manar, who are Arabs from Haifa; Alisha and Alia, who are Orthodox Jews; Shaul and Hagar - she's a teacher of progressive Judaism and he's a jazz bar owner; and Yonatan and Dalia, who have a "troubled marriage" and a lovably precocious daughter.

There are lots of memorable scenes, but I particularly like the one when Manar comes to visit Amir shortly after he moves from Haifa, which is a mixed Arab-Jewish city, to Tel Aviv. They're standing in the kitchen of the friend's apartment he's staying in (the friend is abroad), while he makes coffee at the stove. Manar asks him, "So how is Tel Aviv?"

"I don't know...," Amir answers slowly, as he stirs the coffee in the finjan, his back to Manar. "Tel Aviv is strange... You don't hear Arabic here. It's not like Haifa. In Haifa I could believe in the illusion of co-existence."

On the other hand, if a bunch of Jewish Israeli girls women are lusting in a Flickr comment thread after the photo of an Israeli Arab actor who lives in Tel Aviv, maybe there's more to co-existence in The Big Orange than Amir knows.