'I like to play with fire': Tahar Rahim takes on his most radical transformation in Alpha

Tahar Rahim knew very early on in his career that he didn't want to play the same character over and over again. The French-Algerian actor shot to fame after his award-winning performance in Jacques Audiard's 2009 prison drama Un Prophète, playing a 19-year-old petty criminal who makes his ascent to dominance against a brutal prison backdrop of violence, racism and drug-trafficking.

This critical acclaim could have led to him being typecast in gritty, marginalised roles, playing a slew of gangsters and terrorists. Instead, he's ventured across the global landscape of cinema to bring to life a diverse array of personalities.

From Judas in Garth Davis's Mary Magdalene and politician Paul Barras in Ridley Scott's Napoleon, to a decontamination sub-contractor in Rebecca Zlotowski's Grand Central and Mohamedou Ould Slahi, a man falsely and torturously detained in Guantanamo Bay, in Kevin McDonald's The Mauritanian.

"Part of the plan for me was jumping from one thing to another, because this is the vision I have of acting," Tahar tells The New Arab.

"I like to play with fire."

But his latest performance might be his most transformative. In Julia Ducournau's third feature Alpha, Tahar plays Amin, a heroin addict whose renewed presence in the life of his sister and eponymous niece leads to a psychologically traumatic yet cathartic reckoning for the mother and daughter, all set against the 80s-90s backdrop of a pandemic and escalating paranoia.

The actor dropped 40lbs to embody the fragile frame of his character, and spent many weeks with Gaia — a charity that works with people struggling with and overcoming addiction — to understand the mindset of that dependence.

His heritage gave him intimate knowledge of the central household and the cultural minutiae, gleaned from Julia's background as a half-French, half-Algerian girl growing up in France.

Here, Tahar discusses his cultural bond with his director, how his childhood informed his relationship to cinema, and why taking risks has become his ultimate ethos for navigating his career.

The New Arab: What was your upbringing like, and how did it inform your relationship to cinema?

Tahar Rahim: When I would come back home from school, I had my mum speaking Algerian. I grew up in an Algerian flat and I'm the last of nine siblings. I understand Algerian more than I speak it, but the culture enriches me a lot.

I came from a very small town where there was not a lot to do, but when I was a teenager, I would go to movies with my friends.

I couldn't afford to watch movies at the cinema because tickets were expensive and we didn't have much money, so I found a way to sneak in through the back door.

It was fun at first with my friends, but they stopped wanting to watch movies, so I went alone and loved it. I felt hope; the atmosphere, the dimension, sharing emotions with people you don't even know. I couldn't really explain it at the time.

We had a TV programme at midnight called the Cinema of Midnight, too, and they would play old movies. I loved that black and white thing, the fact that it's the art of fake, and it's obvious, but it's so charming, and that's how it all started.

When did you realise you wanted to become an actor?

I dreamt of being an actor or a singer, you know, a football player, but acting was always there. I remember talking with my brother, and I was like, "I know that it's gonna happen." I felt it. I knew it.

And over the course of my being a good audience member, I wanted to study movies, and I did. I did three years in university [studying] cinema, and then I moved to Paris — Paris opened its arms to me.

Within a week, I had two jobs, was renting a room in someone else's apartment, and had been accepted into my acting school, so I kept going.

In Alpha, there's something beautiful about the cultural specificity of this French-Algerian household that could only have been written, directed and performed by people like Julia Ducournau and yourself. How was that bonding experience during the shoot?

We bonded pretty fast, because I remember a conversation we had about Eid. It's an important celebration for Arabs and Muslims, and there are so many stereotypical representations when it comes to celebration in the Arab world, being portrayed the way you don't want it to be portrayed.

In rehearsals, we tried ululating, and she goes, "No, no, no, no, no. I know it exists, but I don't want this in the scene, because that's exactly what the viewer expects."

She was spot on. You have to be able to get rid of some stuff so it feels real in the cinematographic reality. You can argue that, yes, it exists, but if I use it, I fall into the trap, and only someone who's lived this can make that choice.

Your performance as Amin is quite literally transformative, playing a heroin addict who has contracted an illness, and you play him with such fragility and vulnerability. It's a role that can take you to dark places, so how much does it help having a wife like Leila Bekhti, a great actor in her own right, at home to support you? 

She's the best woman ever. She helps me all the time when I'm working, when I'm so committed to the part. She's like, "I know you do your thing. No worries, I'm with you."

She's the most supportive person in my life, and I do the same for her, because we know what it takes to be an actor and to dive into character. She's a blessing.

Your breakthrough was in Jacques Audiard's Un Prophete, but you couldn't possibly know in the moment of making it that it would be. Does it feel amazing to know that the film is now part of this legacy of great prison films, like Midnight Express and The Shawshank Redemption?

Yes. You feel like it's even hard to believe. When I hear someone like Ryan Coogler saying, I'm showing this film to my team before I shoot a movie, you go like, wow, that's the power of film, and I am part of this movie, it's still unbelievable.

But it feels good because it builds your self-confidence and feeds the ongoing dream.

You could have easily followed Un Prophete by taking typecast roles. How do you decipher which parts to play?

You need to know why you're accepting the part and the movie. Part of the plan for me was jumping from one thing to another, because this is the vision I have of acting. I'm not saying I have the right vision, but I don't want to get bored.

If I want to keep going, I have to try different things, because I get distracted pretty easily. So if I do the same thing all the time, I'm going to lose the fire of life.

I respect the fact that some actors, like, let's say, John Wayne, have developed a character over the years until they mastered it like crazy. But it wasn't my vision. I like to play with fire.

When you play a diversity of characters, you understand a diversity of experiences. What's the thing that has stuck with you most, you've learned the most, from doing a role?

I think it's from The Mauritanian, from Mohamedou Ould Slahi and learning to be able to always forgive. I'm trying to do it every day, thanks to him, somehow. I'm not someone who likes to hold grudges. I don't like that. It hurts you first, you know, but the way he managed it, and I was like, how is that possible?

I remember chatting to Mohamedou at the time of the release, and he was so hopeful despite his torrid treatment at Guantanamo Bay. And it's similar to Palestinians who have been through the worst thing, and yet they have this hope, spirituality, and are the kindest, giving people.

I guess that's the only way to survive and to be saved somehow.

You've talked about how much New Hollywood influenced you, but what's been your relationship to SWANA cinema?

Iranian cinema was a great source of inspiration for me. Asghar Farhadi and Mohammed Rasoulof would create something real, meaningful, and culturally true.

It's mastery because, when you have censorship, they find a way to develop a cinema so profoundly rooted in relationships with families, friends, and their own culture.

You've talked about taking on roles that feel risky, and there's nothing riskier than an Iranian filmmaker. Mohammed was in exile when he made The Seed of A Sacred Fig. Then there's Swedish Egyptian filmmaker Tarik Saleh.

Yeah, Egypt is a lot different, but I love his movies.

They're all filmmakers who have been critical of governments and censorship, yet still managed to make films that speak to the complex experiences in their respective countries. Is that quite inspiring for how you want to navigate things?

Yes, because you see that it's possible and manageable. It develops new creativity because you don't have a choice.

Taking risks helps you improve yourself as a man and as an artist. It allows you to create a new vision, a new perspective, something different.

Making movies is technically having a camera, actors and sound; we've got thousands of movies, and you can tell the same story, but the more we go through cinema history, the harder it gets because it's already been told. So you've got to be able to invent new things within the constraints.

Alpha is in UK cinemas now.

Hanna Flint is a British-Tunisian critic, broadcaster and author of Strong Female Character: What Movies Teach Us. Her reviews, interviews and features have appeared in GQ, the Guardian, Elle, Town & Country, Mashable, Radio Times, MTV, Time Out, The New Arab, Empire, BBC Culture and elsewhere

Follow her on Instagram: @hannainesflint