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Omar SHARIF has been a screen actor for 50 years. Yet he is not one to mouth platitudes about this remarkable career achievement, which encompasses some 90 movies. In fact, few actors are more candid about their body of work. "I went 25 years without making a good film," he insists; on thinking back, he concludes it's nearer 30.
Strolling elegantly through a hotel lobby here, he virtually stops conversation; guests sipping drinks do sudden double-takes, pointedly nudging one another and gesturing toward him with their eyes. At 71, Sharif retains all his considerable presence.
That mane of jet-black hair is steel-gray now and swept back from his brow. He wears round spectacles and a week's growth of thick stubble. Yet this is recognizably the man who was one of the big screen's leading heartthrobs, especially when he breaks into his trademark gap-toothed smile.
"The fans who come up and talk to me these days are either older people with fond memories or young people whose grandmothers or mothers love me," he reflects. "That's moving. It's good to be remembered."
He'll be remembered next week in Los Angeles with a tribute at AFI Fest 2003, where the audience will get to see him in a small, well-regarded French film, "Monsieur Ibrahim." But even without these reminders, Sharif retains his hold on film fans. How could he not? In the 1960s, Egyptian-born Sharif was in three unforgettable starring roles: as T.E. Lawrence's friend, the Bedouin prince Sherif Ali, in David Lean's "Lawrence of Arabia"; as the charismatic Russian poet-doctor wooing Julie Christie's Lara in the title role of "Doctor Zhivago"; and as the wayward, irresistibly attractive cad Nicky Arnstein, breaking Barbra Streisand's heart in "Funny Girl."
Women went weak-kneed at the sight of him; soon after "Doctor Zhivago" opened, he reportedly received 3,000 proposals of marriage. Critic Pauline Kael memorably called him "a walking love scene." Back then, Sharif was tagged the most famous Egyptian since Cleopatra. "It's true when people recognize me these days, those three films are the ones they talk about," he concedes. "But it doesn't bother me. It's better than having done none they remember. I find it endearing."
He admits his subsequent movies never matched the splendor of those three...