“Love is non-judgment and tolerance of everything.”
Sayyid El Alami
interview by Tiago Manaia
photographed by Nicolas Wagner
styled by Alexandre Misericordia
grooming by Omar Bouker
production by Maël Gicquel
artwork by Robert Escalera
special thanks to the Brach Hotel, Agence Contact, Jeanne Gugnalons and Jean-Charles Guillet.
above: sleeveless knit sweater and pants by Hermes
Sayyid was born a year before the millennium changed. I think about this as our computers connect, with a long distance separating our virtual calls. However, I can tell that his hair is wet; he keeps playing with it, and sometimes, he puts on a white beanie to try to control the stubborn, long strands, which “seem to have a life of their own,” he laughs as he says this.
Sayyid is in Paris, and I am in Lisbon.
I showed him the old café where I rushed to take our call, and the staff literally offered me an empty room so I could do the interview without being disturbed by the noise. The space is dark and hidden, and in the absence of light, our conversation takes on a secret dimension. The internet connection holds up. Around me, almost every weekend, the newspaper has the same man on the cover. An American president is preparing to take office, and his speech of hate and prejudice spread across the headlines that can be read from afar. Toxic masculinity is everywhere; it’s a promise of his that is about to take form. The film that leads me to speak with Sayyid El Alami, Block Pass, is somewhat like a cautionary tale about this masculinity that oppresses difference and expresses itself through the most violent homophobia. Sayyid’s character discovers his best friend’s secret life. Amid motocross races, adrenaline serves to forget the pain with which these oppressed characters live. Adrenaline brings death closer and helps them forget the impossibility of being gay in such a place. The film speaks to our present. From Europe to America, patriarchy continues to oppress. Sayyid’s performance is unforgettable. This young actor, a child of the millennium, has a will for change, and in this dark café where I hear him speak, his words echo.
suit by Paul Smith, tank top by Fruit of the Loom
printed white shirt by Issey Miyake X Ronan Bouroullec
Tiago Manaia: I saw you received an acting award for your role in Block Pass in Montreal. In your speech, you mentioned that the greatest form of love is non-judgment.
Sayyid El Alami : You’re starting the interview in the best possible way, yeah.
Was this your approach to your character in Block Pass?
Oh no, I understood it more by playing the role. In life, there are things we know but don’t always apply. Values we think we have, but they remain theoretical. In reality, this idea of non-judgment was already part of me, but it’s through portraying this character that I truly realized its importance. This film helped me pinpoint it. That’s why I said that the greatest form of love is non-judgment.
In your real life, have you never been confronted with this?
No, no, in fact, it’s far beyond the character facing his gay friend. Because that’s something I’ve already experienced. On the contrary, I’ve had quite a few friends confide in me, some questioning their sexuality, especially towards the end of high school or early adulthood.
It’s a topic that is not foreign to me. So, if I can create an environment where my friends feel comfortable enough to talk to me about it, honestly, I’m happy.
Are you a confidant?
Yeah (laughs). But this film helped me understand many things, actually. No matter the topic… During the premiere, at the Q&A, a man in his sixties spoke up. He was very emotional. He said something that really stuck with me: “I’m gay, but I’m only defined by that, even though it’s just a small part of who I am.” He explained that minorities or people who face discrimination are often reduced to just one aspect of their identity when, in reality, they are a million other things.
We can apply this to all minorities…
Exactly. Love is non-judgment, it’s tolerance, it’s accepting everything that makes a person. But in society, we tend to amplify certain aspects of people’s identities, to exaggerate them… when, in the end, they’re just a few elements among many others.
Whether in life or even in the profession of acting… Do they always try to box us in?
Of course. And we even do it ourselves. We box others in, and we also box ourselves in without even realizing it. When in reality, we’re so much more than what we let others see. It would be good if we all realized that, for ourselves and others.
How long did you shoot Block Pass?
A month and a half of shooting, plus a month of rehearsals.
Let’s talk a bit more technically. How did you establish the relationships between the actors playing your family in the film? And how did you approach all this masculinity in the film, this almost toxic masculinity with the motorcycles and the races?
From a technical perspective, honestly, I’m not the type to say “Well, I did this, I went out, I got into character…” That’s not my way of working. I function very instinctively. When you have a director like Antoine Chevrollier and a screenplay as well-written as that, you just let yourself be guided, follow a direction, even if it’s vague, and surrender to the process. It’s a bit like building a road to cross a path.
In a film like this, the goal is primarily authenticity and realism. I don’t want to “act,” even though it’s fiction. I want it to feel real.
Antoine also has this approach in the way he prepares the film. He sets up rehearsals in advance; he makes us all meet each other. Once he’s laid out the characters and defined their traits, he lets us appropriate them and inhabit them. If there are adjustments to be made, he lets us navigate within these bodies.
With Antoine Chevrollier, you also did the series Oussekine, which tells the true story of a student’s murder by the police in 1986. How did you meet?
When we met, it was very professional and very respectful. And eventually, he became my soulmate in cinema. During Oussekine, our discussions quickly went beyond work. We talked about life, politics, more personal topics… Our worldview, cinema, and also the difficulty of carving a place in it.
When you come from a minority or a less privileged background, cinema is both a dream and a battle. With Antoine, everything was obvious.
Cinema is also about dreams… And when you come from a less privileged background?
The dream continues, especially when you meet a director like him. Doing projects like Oussekine is essential to me. Raising awareness about different forms of violence… whether it’s state violence, racial violence, intolerance, or homophobia. That’s what gives meaning to my job. Antoine ticks all the boxes… so, of course, I love him (laughs).
You grew up in Toulouse, where you started acting at around 12 years old?
Yes, it was in a Cultural and Youth Center, where I took small theater classes.
With my mother, I mostly watched French comedies, Louis de Funès, Bourvil, the old-school classics. Moroccan films, the Ramadan series, or these typical comedies we watched as a family. With my older brothers, it was all American films, often very political. Matrix, Requiem for a Dream, all that vibe…
At around 13, I realized that this job could allow me to do everything… Entertain, but also raise awareness. That’s when I started getting passionate about committed careers like Audrey Hepburn’s. She made incredible films while also being involved in causes that mattered to her. I wanted to do both, too.
You start realizing that you need to go to Paris and look for a real acting course?
Yes. I asked a lot of questions to my brothers and sisters.
Are you the youngest?
Yeah, very small. They are all 10 to 15 years older than me.
I asked them a lot of questions, and since I come from a family with not much money, I thought I’d have to anticipate things a little. At that point, I was still in high school, but I was already planning my move to Paris.
At 14-15 years old, I really took the lead. I started looking for my own references, building my own film culture. At that time, I was especially passionate about series, and my dream was to come to Paris and then quickly go to the United States.
What’s funny is that as soon as I got to Paris, my first dream came true… by acting in Messiah, an American series on Netflix. It was completely crazy to find myself in Los Angeles, having meetings at Netflix, coming from Toulouse with only two short films to my name.
I was like, “Okay, fake it until you make it.” (laughs).
You come from a very sunny city, and then you arrive in Paris, a block of cement. What did you feel when you arrived?
Actually, I was so driven by my dreams and desires that I didn’t feel anything. I had a goal, and all the blows I could take, I didn’t even feel them. It’s years later that I realized what you just said.
Leaving, leaving my friends behind… For personal reasons… I come from a social class where, unfortunately, the outcomes are often failure, prison, or worse…
Most of the friends I grew up with, the people I hung out with in middle school and high school, a lot of them went to prison, some fell apart… Life is tough.
But when I got to Paris, I had the dream of making it, of succeeding, of making my mother proud of all her sacrifices, my father too, my brothers and sisters… And I also wanted to fight for my ideas.
So all that violence… (pause) social, loneliness… financial… it didn’t matter.
Even when I sent tons of messages to casting directors, when I tried to go to premieres where no one noticed me… I didn’t care.
The dream was so big that the blows couldn’t be felt.
(left to right)
silk shirt and tweed tie by DUSTIJL 1979, leather jacket and blue jeans overalls by Ralph Lauren, loafers by Sebago X J.Press
silk shirt and tweed tie by DUSTIJL 1979, cap by Miguel Adrover
cashmere vest by Barrie, tank top by Fruit of the Loom, wool pants by Paul Smith, silk and wool scarf by DUSTIJL 1979
Did you read a lot?
Yes, a lot.
In terms of acting, my first big shock was Stanislavski’s Building the Character. And especially Declan Donnellan. It was my sister who introduced me to it when I was 15.
At 14, I was already telling them I wanted to do cinema, and she gave me this book. But I didn’t read it. I didn’t read it, I didn’t read it… (laughs)
And then, when I arrived in Paris, I remembered that my sister had given it to me. I opened it, and it was The Actor and the Target.
And actually, it’s not even a book on acting in the strict sense. It’s a book on psychology. It just tells you: Don’t judge yourself. Act. Go ahead. Follow your instinct. Don’t try to replicate, don’t try to falsely act, try to embody.
How is it to return to reality after two months of shooting, like for Block Pass, for example?
I didn’t really have a home anymore, so the return to reality was violent.
Oh yeah?
Actually, no. A week later, I jumped straight into the shooting of And Their Children After Them.
You really go far with the not having a home thing? (laughs)
Afterwards, for a year, I struggled here and there, but otherwise, reality was… In fact, it’s just that you’re super busy, and suddenly, it stops. Especially in cinema, that’s what young actors, actresses, and people who want to do this job need to understand. And even directors or screenwriters… What I’ve learned over time is that these are jobs that require a lot of patience. Whether you’re directing or acting, time in these jobs is different. There’s another sense of time.
It’s a dream job, but at the same time, waiting teaches you not to dream too much, actually. It’s quite a crazy dichotomy.
Exactly. It’s a dream job, and at the same time, you quickly realize that life is also about patience. Everything takes time. It teaches you to manage, to live with another sense of time.
I was someone who was always in a rush. My parents had me quite late; I always had older brothers and sisters, and I wanted to share so many things with them. I always had this fear of running out of time. And I kept moving.
Did you want to be an adult before your time?
Yeah, totally. I was thrown into it because I was always surrounded by adults. But now, I’m going to try to do the opposite.
Rebel Without a Cause? (laughs)
Exactly. You know, I once thought about taking that name. A friend told me, “Take Jim, like James Dean, make it your stage name.”
I almost did it… (laughs)
You just gave me the best ending for this interview with that sentence.
