You know how every now and then, someone asks, “If your life were a movie, what kind of film would it be?” Inevitably, you spend the next few minutes spiraling into self-reflection. Would it be a soulful indie flick with charming, melancholic montages? A sweeping epic with sand dunes and a Max Richter score? Or, more realistically, one of those awkward comedies filled with questionable decisions and an overeager soundtrack?

For me, the answer is simple: my life would be a cross-cultural dramedy complete with subtitles, a main character who internally monologues too much, and an ensemble cast that could rival any Wes Anderson film in quirkiness. And let's be honest, most of the film would be spent navigating the messy collisions of identity, family, love, and emotional baggage. But, hey, isn’t that exactly why we’d tune in?

So, grab some popcorn (or maybe just tea, since this is my cinematic universe), and let’s cast this hypothetical masterpiece.

The Protagonist: Casting Me, Casting You

The main character is, of course, yours truly. But who could capture the many sides of Zahra? Charming yet slightly neurotic? Grounded yet prone to heroic bouts of overthinking?

I’d need someone who understands nuance—someone who could effortlessly switch between the quiet intensity of Alexandria sunsets and the brisk efficiency of Parisian mornings. Enter: Mia Wasikowska. Picture her with a slightly wild bun, glasses perched on her nose while sipping mint tea and alternating between staring dreamily out of windows and scrubbing burnt rice off a pot (yes, there’d be a cooking scene, with tragic results). She’s understated, slightly enigmatic, but in a way that makes you root for her even when she’s her own worst enemy.

And if I’m being indulgent, Amal Clooney could moonlight as “older Zahra,” radiating poise and representing the distant version of me who presumably has her life together. Wishful thinking? Maybe. But every movie needs a redemption arc, no?

The Family Drama: Cast of Characters With Perfect Comic Timing

Believe me when I say my family would make for excellent supporting characters. My Egyptian father, equal parts philosopher and devoted realist, would have to be played by someone with gravitas—Youssra, the Egyptian superstar, might be unconventional casting for a father’s role, but hear me out: she could bring that look. You know, the piercing stare that says, “Really? This is your life plan?”

My French-leaning younger brother—let’s call him the sarcastic voice of reason—could only be played by Timothée Chalamet. He’d wear a perfectly tailored blazer, deliver deadpan commentary over family dinners, and have a subplot about learning to properly pronounce Arabic consonants. (Spoiler: he never really gets there.)

Then there’s my mother: our glue, the heartfelt but sharp-eyed matriarch who oscillates between cultural gatekeeper and secret rule-breaker. I imagine someone like Nadine Labaki, who could channel her warmth, humor, and occasional bouts of exasperation that manifest when I announce mid-dinner that I’m “thinking of quitting everything and opening a café in Istanbul.”

The Love Interests: A Flawed Ensemble

What’s a movie without romance? But let me tell you—this part of my casting involves multiple rewrites because, much like my dating history, it’s complicated.

First, we’d have “The One That Got Away.” This character would be played by a James McAvoy type—charming, intelligent, and just unattainable enough to make the audience scream, “Why can’t you see they’re terrible for you!?” Picture late-night walks along the Seine, intellectual debates over politics, and that inevitable moment when he pulls away because “he needs to work on himself.” Tragic, but you’d root for us anyway.

Contrast him with “The One My Parents Love But I Don’t,” who’d naturally be played by someone suspiciously perfect, like Riz Ahmed. He ticks every box—ambitious, family-oriented, kind—but there’s no spark. There’d be an agonizing dinner-party scene where he helps clear the table while Eye of the Tiger plays for comedic effect, signaling my parents’ silent celebration at the prospect of someone stable finally entering my orbit.

Finally, we’d need “The Unexpected Connection.” Perhaps this is a fellow bicultural misfit played by Rami Malek, dropping casual lines in Arabic-French hybrid slang and finding quirky ways to make me laugh. (Am I writing myself a romcom ending here? Maybe. Let’s allow the scriptwriters some optimism.)

Locations, Locations, Locations

The setting of my movie would be just as much a character as the people in it. We’d open in Alexandria—a montage of narrow streets, a warm sea breeze, and lazy afternoons spent dreaming on a balcony while Umm Kulthum plays in the background. Naturally, we’d contrast this with the orderly chaos of Paris, where Zahra navigates the metro armed with a croissant in one hand and a tote bag full of existential reading in the other. And just for fun, we’d throw in a year abroad in Istanbul for those life-defining “soul searching” sequences, complete with too many cups of Turkish coffee and accidental encounters with stray cats.

These places wouldn’t just be backdrops; they’d symbolize the push and pull of identity. Alexandria would represent heritage and groundedness; Paris, independence and reinvention. Istanbul? A metaphorical middle ground for figuring it all out—or at least, trying to.

Comic Relief: When Love Meets Cultural Miscommunication

Ah, but every dramedy needs levity to dilute the angst. In this case, it’d come from my many dating misadventures—complete with intergenerational comparisons.

There’d be a dinner scene where my Egyptian auntie recounts harrowing tales of arranged meetings and “suitor interviews” over stuffed grape leaves, while my equally skeptical Brit friends argue the merits of ghosting etiquette and texting back after a third date. A particularly poignant argument would erupt over whether it’s worse to marry someone “nice but boring” or insist on a grand passion that inevitably fizzles. (Spoiler: no one agrees.)

And who could forget cameo-worthy moments of true chaos? Like introducing a guy named François to my family, only to spend the next six months explaining why his art residency in Mexico didn’t necessarily mean “he’s unserious.” Or the time I accidentally used a French idiom with an Egyptian pun during an argument and ended up laughing so hard that the fight ended in a truce. These are the kinds of moments that keep you humble.

The Takeaway: Life Is Messy, But Beautiful

So, what’s the point of all this? If my life were a movie, it wouldn’t have a neat resolution or a big Hollywood ending. Instead, it’d be about finding balance in the messiness of it all—between cultures, between family expectations and personal dreams, between the chaos of dating and the moments of quiet clarity when you realize who you are.

In the end, the hypothetical credits would roll over a long solo walk by the Seine, where Zahra, ever the overthinker, wonders whether you can ever reconcile everything or if the true connection we’re meant to build is with ourselves.

What I do know is this: I’d watch that movie. Wouldn’t you?