by Greg Mayer

Omar Sharif, the Egyptian film star, bridge master, and bon vivant, died earlier today in Cairo. The cause, at age 83, was a heart attack. Beginning as a star of Egyptian cinema, he became a figure of worldwide fame, starring in major roles in both British and American films. Two roles, especially, defined his acting greatness– as Sherif Ali ibn Kharish of the Harith in Lawrence of Arabia, and as the Russian poet-physician Yuri Zhivago in Doctor Zhivago. Both historical epics were directed by David Lean, and he starred in a number of other historical dramas (e.g. Night of the Generals), but also played very different roles, such as Nicky Arnstein, the singing love interest of Fanny Brice in the musical Funny Girl. (He also became the offscreen love interest of Barbra Streisand, who played Fanny). He continued acting until 2013, but his greatest roles were early in his career. Sharif was satisfied with this, telling the New York Times in an interview 20 years ago that he had the good and the bad, and that he had played in classic films and worked with great directors. As his roles became less prominent, he became a world expert in bridge, writing extensively on the game in books and newspapers. Later in life, he achieved acting acclaim again, winning the Cesar Award (the French ‘Oscar’) for his starring role in the French language film, Monsieur Ibrahim.

For me, Sharif stands out for his role as Sherif Ali, playing Peter O’Toole’s Arab counterpart, as a leading commander of the Sherifian forces allied with the British in World War I. (Jerry also savors his role as Nicky Arnstein.) One of the greatest scenes in all cinema is Sherif Ali’s introduction in Lawrence (which was also Sharif’s first appearance on screen in an English language film). He first appears as a dark streak shimmering above the horizon of a desert mirage, and then slowly approaches, becoming more real with each step of his camel.

Another great scene, that I have commented on here at WEIT before, is the Battle of Tafas. Sherif Ali pleads with Lawrence to continue the advance of the Arab Army to Damascus, and not be distracted by a column of Turks abandoning a small town that they have savagely ill-used. When I need to refocus my efforts, and stay on the important task– to keep my eyes on the prize–, I say to myself, “Damascus, Aurens, Damascus.”

The two scenes are brilliant cinema, not just alone, but in combination. In the first scene, we see Lawrence chastising Ali for what Lawrence sees as needless violence. In the battle scene, much later in the film, we now find it is Ali who clearly sees what is both right and militarily necessary, while Lawrence now engages in needless violence. Ali has grown, Lawrence has regressed. While based on actual events, much of the dialogue and action is fictionalized, and the scenes demonstrate the strength of the film as art, but also its limitations as history.

Sherif Ali in the film is a composite character, based in part (and in name) on Sherif Ali ibn Hussein of the Harith and, probably more so, on Sherif Nasir.

(The famous Ali ibn Hussein of today is a Jordanian prince who is one of the chief contenders to replace Sepp Blatter as head of FIFA.)

Omar Sharif was born Michael D. Shalhoub in Cairo, his parents Melkite Catholics from the Lebanon (curiously, one of the members of my high school graduating class was Michael D. Shalhoub, whose parents were Melkite Catholics from the Lebanon!). The name by which we all know him was a stage name. I will miss, as Robert Berkvist put it in the New York Times, Sharif’s commanding, darkly handsome, multilingual presence on the screen.