MOVIE ACTORS SEARCH

DEAR FRIENDS

I'M PREPARING A MOVIE ( THE ROOF ) WICH WILL BE FILMED IN 2009 BETWEEN MOROCCO AND GERMANY , FOR THAT I'M LOOKING FOR :

A GERMAN MOVIE ACTRESS ( 30 years old ) .
A GERMAN PLAY BOY ( 30 or 33 years old )
A SPORT GERMAN MAN ( in the same age)
2 GERMAN ACTORS ( 35 /40 years old )
4 DANCERS GERMAN GIRLS ( not more than 26 yeras old )
A GERMAN MOVIE ACTOR ( 30 years old )
A COUPLE OF AMERICAN ACTORS ( 55/60 years old )

SO IF YOU'RE INTERESTED BY THIS MOVIE PROJECT , please send me some of your photos + a curriculum vitae to the email:

hakimdeutsch2@yahoo.fr

AS SOON AS POSSIBLE , BECAUSE I'M IN THE CASTING PERIOD .

THANKS A LOT

AZIZ HAKIM

00212 63 18 83 26

MY RECENT ACTIVITY

The Woman BOOK Exposition
"SPACES OUALLADA OF Woman Creativity"
March . 7/8 , 2008
CULTURAL COMPLEX Al HOURRIA/Fez, Morocco

Within the framework of the celebration of the world day of the woman, and the 12 centuries memoration on the foundation of the town of Fez, associations "Female Creativity" and "Initiatives for the Protection of the Woman" organize the 1st edition of the Woman Book Exposition of the female book in Fez under the topic; "writers of yesterday and today"

The Program

Friday 7 Mars 2008-02-26 9h 30:
opening meeting . Coordinator: Imane Ghazouani. Short speech of Mrs. the president of association Female Creativity: Khadija Tnana . Short speech of Mrs. the president of association Initiative for the protection of the women's rights: Asma El Mehdi.
Presentation of the Program by : Nadia Kassimi.

10 H: Poems reading . Dabia Khamiss ( Arab Emirates ):
Presentation Aziz Hakim.
Paloma Fernandez Gomá (Spain): Presentation Aziz Tazi.
Magda Karnissi (Romanie): Presentation Amina Chraibi.
Saida El Khayari(Morocco): Presentation Fatima Sadiqi.
Aichq El Basri (Morocco) : Presentation Abdessalam El Mesaoui.

12 H: Painting Exhibition visits with a performance presented by Danae Hadrujia of the Institute of beautiful arts of Tetouan. Signature of the books Malika Najib; Khaddouj Gharbi; Najia Ajraoui; Rabea Bennouna; Amina El Mehdi Presentation Amina Magdoud.

15 H:: Presentation and signature of the pounds chaired by Farida Bouhassoune .
Presentation of the book of Rouqaya El Moussadaq. Signature of the books: Ouafae Malih; Rabea Rayhan; Anissa Derraz; Fatima Sadiqi: Presentation: Mohammed Boudouik? Presentation of the book of Touria Oulhri: Pésentation Farida Bouhassoune In Parallel round Table around the promotion of the women's rights.

20 H A show animated by Aziz El Hakim . Presentation of the theatre Play Tata Mbarka written by Khadija Tnana and Directed by Naima Zaitan

Saturday March 8, 2008 10 H: Presentation and signature of the books president Fatima Sadiqi . Présention of the book of Zahrae El Mansouri. Signature of the books of Farida Bouhassoune; Bahae Tarabloussi; Maria El Ghorfi Presented by Fatima Mouaid.


15 H: Presentation of the books by Hamid El Hmidani .
Presentation of the books of: Rachida Benmesaoud by Mohamed Boudouik.
Presentation of the books of: Rajae Talbi; Latifa Halim; Mounia Belafia.

20 H: Artistic evening with the artist Samira El kadiri: Animation Zhor Houti with the participation of the poets: Ikram Abdi; Widad Benmoussa; Touria Iqbal; Latifa Meskini and Loubna El Manouzi.

In Parallel to the The woman book Exposition ; workshops of painting and poetry will be organized during the two days animated by Azeddine Kita; Fouzia Sekkat and Taoufi Alaoui.

This Eposition is organized with the support of the embassy of Finland in Morocco, Ministry of the culture, the Town Hall of Fez, the Ministry charged near the Prime Minister of the Moroccan community resided abroad, the National Library , the Regional Council Fès Boulemane, University Mohammed Ben Abdellah, Faculty of letters Dhar El Mehraz, Arrondissement of Sais , the direction of the culture, Instituto Cervantes of Fez.

MAURICE BEJART ( January 1927 / November 2007)

M.B

M.B

M.B

MAURICE BEJART IS GONE AND THE WORLD OF CHOREOGRAPHY IS IN MOURNING

Son of philosopher Gaston Berger, Maurice Béjart was born on January 1, 1927 in Marseilles (France). He made his debut, first as a dancer and then as a choreographer, in Paris. In 1960, he formed his own company, the “Ballet du XXe Siècle”, in Brussels (Belgium). 25 years later, the troupe relocated to Lausanne (Switzerland) to be renamed “Béjart Ballet Lausanne”. Maurice Béjart puts down roots wherever his work takes him. It was during a tour with the Swedish Ballet Culberg (1949) that he discovered his strength for expression through choreography. Shortly afterwards, while working on a Swedish film production, he met Igor Stravinsky for the first time.
His first great triumph came in 1959, when Béjart created his monumental The Rite of Spring for Maurice Huisman, the new Director of the Théâtre Royal de la Monnaie in Brussels. This paved the way for the launch of the Ballet du XXe siècle in 1960, which triumphed on numerous worldwide tours. The Rite of Spring was followed by Boléro (1961), Messe pour le temps présent (1967) and The Firebird (1970). Developing a marked taste for cultural diversity, Béjart went on to create works that expressed the lore of different civilizations in the form of dance (Bhakti, Golestan, Kabuki, Dibouk, Pyramide) and illustrated a rich musical repertoire extending from Wagner to Boulez.
A natural teacher, Béjart founded the Mudra school in Brussels in 1970, and in Dakkar seven years later. In 1992, the Rudra school and workshop opened its doors in Lausanne. The transformation of the Ballet du XXe siècle to the Béjart Ballet Lausanne (1987) took place without interruption. In 1992, in order to “rediscover the essence of interpretation”, the size of the company was trimmed to about thirty dancers. This move was followed by numerous ballets created for the new troupe: Ring um den Ring, Le Mandarin Merveilleux, King Lear – Prospero, A propos de Shéhérazade, Le Presbytère... ! , Mutationx, La Route de la soie, The Overcoat, Enfant-Roi, Lumière, Tokyo Gesture...

As well as directing plays (La Reine verte, Casta Diva, Five Modern Noh Plays, A-6-Roc), operas (Salomé, La Traviata, Don Giovanni) and films (Bhakti, Paradoxe sur le comédien), Maurice Béjart also writes, and has published a novel, a personal diary and a play. He received the Order of the Rising Sun from Emperor Hirohito of Japan (1986) and was named Great Officer of the Order of the Crown by King Baudouin of Belgium (1988). In 1993, the Japan Art Association awarded him its prestigious Premium Imperial Prize, while soon after the Inamori Foundation gave him the Kyoto Prize (1999). In 1994, Maurice Béjart was elected a Free Member of the Fine Arts Academy of the Institut de France. On December 4, 1995, His Holy Highness Jean-Paul II gave him the Peace Foundation award.
The city of Lausanne granted him the “bourgeoisie d’honneur” on December 3, 1996. In 2001, he received the Laurent Perrier “Grand siècle” prize from the hands of Jeanne Moreau. In August 2002, he created a new troupe for young dancers, called the “Compagnie M”, and his new ballet Mère Teresa et les enfants du monde. It premiered in Lausanne at the Théâtre de Beaulieu on October 18.
In October 2003, he paid homage to Fellini on the tenth anniversary of his death, with Ciao Federico. He received the insignia of the “Commander of the Order of Arts and Letters” from the Ambassador of France to Switzerland. 2004 marked the fiftieth anniversary of his role as director of the company. He then staged L’Art d’être grand-père together with the young dancers of the troupe. In 2005, he created L’Amour-la Danse, a show featuring over ten scenes of his greatest ballets. Not to mention Zarathoustra, le Chant de la Danse, his most recent major worldwide creation. On the eve of Maurice Béjart’s eightieth birthday, 2006 will see the birth of La Vie du danseur «racontée par Zig et Puce».

EXTRACT FROM " GERMANIA"

Sipping the world at once

On the road way home " Maya" pulled up the green car by a glass building and we went out. I was badly in need for a light nap to shake off the din of the journey . yet , both the insistence of "Maya" and Brahim's gaze brimming with blame , pushed me into the passageways of the supermarket . when i stepped on the velvet threshold , the glass entrance door opened and floor moved forward carrying us towards the inside. I was taken by a transient dizziness ; and on the spot i caught sight of a radiant face scanning the perfume bottles and smiling to me . i did not smile , in my turn . rather , i went on searching for the shelves of the Blond Beer ( Alt Beer) : my favourite puff of fresh air i used to inhalte while roaming Amsterdam's bridges . each time i sipped a " draw" , i smelled the odour of Bavaria from a remote distance . i find myself , actually , amid a array of "bounties" ; all of them are inviting me , tempting me through their beautiful colour , or the swift turning of the bottle as a princess turning at a bend in a mystical hurry ; or through the " maturity" of their substance , the drawing and the tags on the bottle sides. I remained confused . i hear a fine voice calling me . i turned around : a young girl in her ninteens handing me a tantalizing glass of white wine . i thank her . i take a sip , suck it , rinse it lift and right in my mouth; then pass it under my tongue cherising it with great pleasure while scrutinising deftly the face of the beautiful girl who was trembling in front of me m awating a response or a disire of onother glass of a better and a mature wine . i did not utter a word . i was afraid to utter something , for i know that the world in such a psychological case would quake .
Such a similar sudden disaster wich gratifies on one but me m will certainly happen. She was awaiting something while astonishment had carved out radiant lines on the her face which made me a raddish glass . i was quite excited because i was bound to spend the whole afternoon before the suprermarket shelves hunting for the matured wine . down to the hatch . i gulped dawn the content of the glass . my eyebrows shuddered and i repressed a whimsical desire for a laugh.
" Could you offer a glass from the first wine ?" , i said.
" We have another brand of white wich may suit your taste ", she replied . i acquiesced .
Her fresh-tender hand quivered as if struck by electricity, or rather by a slow hu;an current . i sniffed at the glass and the fragrance of vineyard was finding its way to my veins , and i felt that very impossible joy wich appears only at the beginning of a drea , then vanishes .
" that's a sweet wine . but what's wrong with you ? , i said .
However i noticed that the glow of the current has has already died out . she was , now, staring at me with more rigour and concern far less interesting than her grace and beauty .
" It's excellent , for sure . you seem to be a connoisseur ; for customers seldom taste that we give them with such care and attention " , she told me .
i remembred now the realms of coonnoiseurship when we used to set out on a journey from ( Recif) to ( Lafyate) in quest of a bottle of Dormoy ( a local cheap red wine) in order to get drunk , the four of us , in Wislan tower . then Fes , our native town , would appear to us a grandiose sicilian lady in her forties coming back from the public steam bath to her marble home built on the shoulders of jinn . we got over-excited and inaugurate our nightly raids around five o'clock early in the evening . we allow ourselves every distinctive delicacy until the dawn of the following day on the cadence of a mystical dance ( an aissaoui night dance) in the the orchards of apples and pears .
i did not say a word for some time . the glass of wine , i had just taken , strted stirring up my senses and i felt the need for so many wishful wants.
" i'm a bit confused . can you show me your favourite wine ? " i asked her. She smiled and ran her sight about the place to make sure no one was watching , then she said in a whisper : " i drink it light " so i understand every bit of the matter . " me too , but before meals " , i said in my turn .
she let out a gracious giggle once again while some spots of warmth on the surface of her cheeks . then a malicious silence resonated in the air. I thought of another glass but i grew fearful that this cozy human touch might lead to an undesirable destination . i thanked her , took the bottle of wine ; and i was about to leave when the oder devine face loomed to me from behind of shelves of ;usic tapes qnd records .oh God ! what happend to me ? i felt spelbound to that pretty visage , but before crossing the lines of the passageways i came into Maya and Brahim . they were looking out for me while pushing forward a shopping trolly loaded with the finest food and liquors .Brahim knows very well my taste , inclinations and privileges ; and Maya who prefer Hashish to hard drinks was keeping abreast with my cadence in sipping the world in at once .
" where are you heading for ? "
i said : " i saw her ".
" who ? "
" Barbara , do you remember that charming English –woman we met in Torremolinos during the summer of 1975 ? . she left her son in the care of her parents and came followed me to Tangier , then fled back home when her passion and nostalgia to her son shook her to the bone . she left me everything : her clothes , the smell of the damp home and a whole week of deep remorse.
He burst out laughing and said : " you're dreaming , my friend , we are now in Germany " i said " you have not seen her face , yet . don't you remember the irish crazy girl who used to cry out of extasy and rapture . we were to take a trip to Chefchaoun and to Ketama in order to stuff our lungs with massive fresh air and indulge ourselves in absolute acts pf oblivion ?
Maya stood dumb gazing at us , a bit irritated because i did not pay much care to the plenty of wine she had bought , and also i did not show my appreciation of her delicate choice of both liquors and food . i had the intention to carry myself towards that attractive face which was keeping my mind vibrating . i wanted to inquire , or rather call out the name " hello Barbar " . her facial features slightly lit up , then she stoped to pick up a record of the "Moody Blues" . i waited for her to turn round to surprise her , " i'm ...don't you remembred me ? " . she capped her ears with the head phones and gave in to the tune . Maya and Brahim were watching out for the end of the scene , in a funny way . i moved desperatly towards them , convinced that she was Barbara with a pinch of forgetfulness.
When we used to serve qs guides to tourists , we discovered that western woman - and englishwomen in particular – are likely to forget about you as soon as possible . how many addresses drea;s we exchanged . in vain .take for instance that italian girl who stood in her tight short red leather skirt by the fountain of Batha Mueseum running her baroque eyes over the hall . she see;ed to me , and i was only sixten years old at the time , as one of the sexually – obsessed ladies of James Bond . when i bit them goodbye , she and her handsome husband kissed me and promised me a trip ticket for Rome . i waited so long for that ticket that i came to hate Rome .
Maya said , " you're tired now .you'll see her in the evening in Disco 2000.don't worry .we have to go home now".
I showed no resistance .we moved , the three of us, one pace as we were attending an elegant funeral procession .yet , i asked Maya : " do you relly know her? " she laughed at the mediteranean naivete and replied while opening the car's door: " her name's Sabine"; then a deep and hostile silence wraped us up. I returned , then , to my sporadic naps.
Under the shower , i recovered the sensation of my body. I was refreshed and i shook off the dust and boredom of the journey . i felt certain that i was in the very space that always pleased me . i put on my blue shirt , the Golf trousers , the Cowboy shoes and Bob Dylan's blouson . i perfurmed myself with an orphan drop from the "Patchouli" bottle , and trimmed and neatly arranged my moustache like Gerge Harrisson's . then tried out some short dances of Jerk with a touch of African dance; and told myself:" let's go"; and i let myself go.
Brahim lives in this small town for two years. Since he has abandoned the Hippy's Movement , he was forced to earn his living even from under the jakeboots of the wealthy Germans . he found himself , at last, a complete and lonly stranger . his days were "sentenced" to the space of a very small distance linking his home with the luxurious hotel wher he used to work as a waiter , and where they used to call him the Philosopher , just because he was talking to the; in correct language qnd translating his Arabic ideas into an accent marked with an uncommon adresses.
He tells them about the kind of food that Ibn Sina likes best , the sweetest and the most matured wine in the mout of Ibn Nawwass , the harshest dance of Zorba the Greek , the best love-making " pause" according to Cheich Nafzaoui . when he happened to be bullied by one of the week-end tourists , he brandishes the Pick of Marks , Marcuse's dirty tricks or Brenstein's slander .he would teach them all , in a stunning stammer a lesson in how they should doing harm to the helpless and the destitute ... in the evening he comes back as an ageing old man , sips his soup and swallows down a slice of ham , smoked a lonley cigarette qnd goes to sleep.
Yet for me , the night was my reverent and majestic gown .
I pour down two or three glqssqs of schnaps which i put out with some beer , then , like a tamed horse , i start off towards a small restaurant furnished in an extremely attractive intimacy . the " Trio" plays the " charlestone's . the customers dine , drink or dance . then they leave the place greeting the landlady with rverence and grandeur . always , the same serenity , the same music . only the svelt beautiful waiteresses change in the landscape . they work for a week and vanish leaving no trace behind . the landlady does not offer anyone company . thre was a young man in his twenties . he comes around eleven o'clock at night , stays with her until around midnight , they close the doors and go together hand in hand . i used to go there to enjoy and cherich the splendor of the scenery that adds to lifetime i order a Nappolese Pizza , glup five or six glasses , contemplate the cheerful face of the landlady , then walk around to reach the Glass Bar in time . here , i listen to the music that i myself choose to please my eardrums . i insert the DM coins in the Juke-box , order my blond beer and a glass of Schnapps . then tune the melodies of John Lennon or Marlene Detriech , or Neil Young , or Melanie . here again , starts the revelation , the muse , as well as the outbreak of impossible human entanglements , here again , the irresistible strive towards Disco 2000 shapes itself into existence .

LYRIC POEM

A WAVE PROFILE

Beyond the sea
A camouflaged lover
Sharpens the following day
By lies
And colours the necks
of passengers
With hollow flirt

Seventy
And no man
A thick music
And fine question:
What do you see?
What does it occur?

I sail in the sleep
not to become
At the beginning of wanting
As a blade sorcer
Who acrosses the labyrinths
Without finding only one chance
There is a giant pearl
In the dream of a Hindu
In full insanity

Seventy
And no woman
Some icy faces
A the measurement of insomnia


Seventy men
And only one woman
Decorating her eyes
By a tender rain
And holds her heart
With jasmine
For to rub off
All the wars


Her smile is rebellious
As a surrealist tear
Which runs
In the veins of time
Her blue underskirt
Plante disorder
In the sleep of the blind men
But the paddle is the same
And our train wanders
On the greenery
Aspiring the tobacco
Of some bohemian princesses .

NEW POEM

SOMEWHERE IN THE SAME CORNER


I open a window
In the see of your eyes
Trying to push the time
Towards the beginning
But in vain


I still have the mind
Nearby your angelic smell
No dance could be mine
When your body is far away


Is it easy to reach your dreams
Like a lost bird
Flying under the sweet tears
Of a sky daughter ?


I don't mind
I don't mind
My heart is empty
My road is safely
And no song on in my night

I know that
You're not here
But i see
Your shadow in the air
Trembling like a whisper
Drowning all my mornings
In a blue lake...

* AZIZ HAKIM