For Lebanese actor Josef Akiki, who plays one of the two leads, the role demanded more than performance; it required presence, stillness, and openness to the poetry found in silence and transition. Akiki reflects on inhabiting a character suspended between life and death, collaborating with Charlie Kaufman, and carrying his own cultural identity into a story about memory, belonging, and letting go.
AM: How to Shoot a Ghost places two newly dead characters wandering through Athens, caught between history and the present. How did you approach embodying such a liminal, poetic role?
Josef Akiki: Aren’t we all subject to death at every moment? Constantly caught between history and future? We are fragile creatures, very vulnerable; death could meet us at any corner. But, that aside, we’re dying all the time, in small ways, just to stay alive. Josef of yesterday died, and Josef of today, of now, will die. The death of the old gives birth to the new. That’s the paradox of life: it cannot exist without death.
We’re all in a permanent state of transition, unsure of what’s coming next. A friend disappears. A phone stops ringing. Your entire city transforms into a place of survival. And there’s nothing you can do but linger in that liminal space between what was and what might be. But when the time is right, and only then, you begin to dissolve into the present. You begin to observe. And if you’re lucky, you start to perceive poetry. Poetry in the smallest, quietest things: a flower pushing through cracked stone. A conversation between two strangers on a bus. A subtle crease in your mother’s face that has nothing to do with sadness or anger, but suddenly you glimpse the little girl she once was, and still is. Anyways, the question was… Yes. To embody a character suspended between life and death, in a city as layered as Athens, I had to let go of logic and lean into presence. The role called for something closer to vibration than performance. And I surrendered myself to Charlie. Although I thought about backstory and motivation, I then approached it like moving through a dream, with heightened senses and a sense of stillness. Every shot, every corner, every glance carried the echo of something lost, and the strangeness of still being here, still sensing, even after death. Being in Athens helped. The past hums beneath every stone, as mentioned in the script. So I let the city and the atmosphere shape the character and guide the performance.
AM: Your character is one of two outsiders who, in death, confront their longings and mistakes. What aspects of his journey resonated with you personally as an actor and as an individual?
Josef Akiki: I think what resonated with me most is his relationship with his family. How, from the very start, it shapes his relationship with himself and with life. There’s a deep sense of regret running through him, a quiet grief for a life that somehow slipped by without resolution or repair.
His inability to connect with his mother, for example… not even being able to begin the path toward peace with her, is something that struck me deeply. That ache for a connection never made, or a wound never healed, felt painfully familiar. And in that sense, the character isn’t just mourning death, but mourning a life half-lived. That’s what moved me.
AM: Charlie Kaufman’s cinema is known for its surreal yet deeply human explorations. What was it like to collaborate with him, and how did his direction shape your performance?
Josef Akiki: Charlie is a world of his own, a wearied, relentless seeker of truth. He gave no direct instructions, no specific lines or defined behaviors for how the two ghosts should exist or move. Yet, when we asked, “What are we doing in this scene?” he would respond with just a few words, accompanied by subtle hand gestures, nervous yet calm, light yet precise, like a magician casting a spell. And somehow, through this quiet, abstract language, he conveyed exactly what he wanted, what he imagined for the character in that time and space.
He’s a seasoned sailor. Eva (poet), a pirate herself, provided the waters, the words, and he was able to navigate on her words and images, and between them, with an unimaginable skill, to draw each wave and define it with lightness and sobriety. Their collaboration is seamless, their visions are deeply intertwined. They know each other very well and they know what they are saying together. I love that.
AM: Much of the film deals with themes of memory, belonging, and letting go. As someone from the Middle East, where questions of identity and history are often very present, did you bring your own cultural perspective into the role?
Josef Akiki: How could I not? How could anyone not bring their life with them into a role? It’s impossible. We are our lives. That’s what makes each one of us unique. In my case, I come from a land no sane person would willingly give up. A land of sacred, eternal nature, layered with ancient history, stories, and people. And sun! And yet, I’m ready to leave it at any moment. I live on my toes there. Grounded but always slightly suspended. I feel I belong, but nothing there truly feels like it’s mine. Maybe because I feel the whole world is also mine. And to it I belong too.
I think that tension between deep-rooted connection and constant estrangement, between living in the “here and now” and longing, helped with carrying this role. It kind of informed the silence, and the sense of being caught between worlds.
AM: The film uses photography, archival footage, and the cityscape of Athens to weave together past and present. How did performing in that environment influence your acting process?
Josef Akiki: It was my first time in Athens, and being in a city so deeply archaeological by nature placed me instantly in that space between history and the present. The past is not hidden there. It stands boldly, unshaken. And that presence makes you ask: is it really over? How can it be past if it’s still here, surrounding you? And if ruins remain, who’s to say memory, loss, pain, joy, defeat, all the echoes of life, don’t remain too? Who’s to say I didn’t leave something of myself behind in that city, or that something of it didn’t remain with me?
I remember vividly, Jessie and I, waiting between scenes, sitting on street curbs or rooftops, looking at each other and silently wondering: what are we doing here? How did we end up in this place, in these roles, in this moment? There was never a clear answer. Not until the camera rolled. And when it did, we didn’t transform, we simply remained as we were.
AM: This is a major step, acting as one of the two leads in a film premiering at Venice. What does this moment mean for you personally, and what kinds of roles or stories do you hope to pursue after this milestone?
Josef Akiki: This is, in many ways, a big break for me. I’ve always hoped to live many lives through the roles I play. To tell the untold stories, to give voice to those who have none, to embody people who were never given the chance to be heard or seen. And somehow, here we are. That’s all I’ve ever hoped for, and all I wish to keep doing: to serve stories that matter.