Which is the most challenging between doing stand-up and acting?

Each discipline presents its own unique challenge. Both are affected by nuance, and that’s a great thing. A movement of an eyebrow in acting, the use of a single word in stand-up; either can be a game changer. It’s amazing just how powerful nuance can be in both disciplines.

And which do you prefer?

Neither. I’ve always just wanted to be a singer.

With respect to acting, you’re one of the rare breed that appeals to both US and UK audiences. What are the differences between audiences on opposite sides of the Atlantic?

American audiences appreciate high energy, repetition and big performance skills. In the UK if that’s your act, expect bad reviews.

And what about the differences in the industry itself, the approach to the work etc.?

Brits are a lot more polite when ripping you off.

Theatre and film – do you have a preference between them?

I like film because it’s easier to make a film of a play than making a play of a film. If you want proof of this go see the Hampstead Primary School’s production of Black Hawk Down.

You’re used to massive audiences. With Malta being a much smaller place than you usually play, what made you accept?

I thought the offer was from Gibraltar. It was too late when I realised.

Heckling: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever had thrown at you (both literally and metaphorically)?

I was heckled once at the start of a show by a woman in the front row, and the man next to her got up and left. She didn’t stop heckling and was removed at the break. The man who left came back for the second half. I found out he was the carer of the woman we had had thrown out. When I asked why he had left, he said: “When she gets like that I just can’t handle it.”

Can a joke ever go too far?

No, no and no. On second thoughts, maybe.

And is there a joke you ever regretted making?

See above.

Ever had people walk out?

Not during a live show, but I’ve had people walk out on some of my movies. Once even on a transatlantic flight.

American audiences appreciate high energy, repetition and big performance skills. In the UK if that’s your act, expect bad reviews

Describe the anatomy of a good joke.

The eyes are the observation. The heart is the humanitarian point you hope to make. The punchline preferably has huge, melon-shaped testicles.

How difficult is it to make you laugh – and when did you last have a good, noisy laugh?

I laugh a lot. One belly laugh is physiologically equivalent to 20 minutes of yoga. I refuse to stop laughing until I walk into a pool hall and they start chalking my head.

An iconic movie role that you’d have loved to do – and why?

I would have loved to play Benjamin Braddock in The Graduate because I could stare at Katherine Ross, with Simon & Garfunkel playing in the background. Also, would love to play Al Pacino’s overweight illegitimate son in a film about a family reunion that suddenly got interesting.

You had an unconventional upbringing. How much of your sense of humour do you attribute to your parents’ influence?

You get an idea of their sense of humour when you learn that they both blame my aunt for the size of my breasts.

Have you ever woken up and found the mere thought of trying to make people laugh impossible? If yes, how did you snap out of it?

No, but I once woke up thinking I was a beetle. I gave the idea to Franz Kafka and he made a fortune.

Also, do you have to be happy to make people laugh? How does it work out if you’re having a particularly bad week?

On the last day of the Montreal comedy festival in 2002 I did a seven-minute set at Club Soda. I was totally fed up and ready to leave the business. I performed with the energy and disdain (including the belly dancing) of a man whose next move was a dignified suicide. I’ve never been funnier. The next day I was offered talent holding deals by three US networks. I’ve struggled to find that energy ever since.

Earlier this year you produced your first documentary, We Are Many, with a strong anti-war message. How political do you consider yourself to be?

I am political, in the sense of being eagerly concerned with the issues of the day. When it comes to party politics, I am aloof.

Do you feel that comedians have a role when it comes to questioning the system and the establishment? Or do people only want to laugh at stuff that isn’t serious?

Comedians, like everyone else, share a responsibility to question and make sense of the ever-evolving relationship between the individual, the community and institutions. In that sense, they are vital in contributing to the discourse.

Did you find it strange taking on a producer’s role – rather than being in the thick of things, so to speak?

Not at all. As a comedian you are in the line of fire every time you are on stage, when it comes to what works and what doesn’t. The audience tells you that, every minute you are on stage. Sitting back with an overview and deciding what works over the entirety of a film is a natural next step.

After focusing on issues of such a serious nature, how difficult is it to snap back into comedy mode? What helps?

The older you get the more you rely on authenticity to get you through just about everything this life throws at you.

On the set of Gladiator, you shared a very particular scene with Oliver Reed. Are you aware of Reed’s connection to Malta – and do you plan on dropping in to his unofficial shrine in Valletta?

I am still painfully aware of his connection to me. In many ways.

Besides making us laugh, what do you plan to do during your time in Malta?

I’m going to swim out to Fungus Rock and give it penicillin.

Omid Djalili performs on October 9 and 10 at 8pm at Cinema 16, Eden Cinemas.

www.edencinemas.com.mt