IIf you come across Samir Kamoun’s face at a mall, you will probably not give it a second glance. That precisely is his biggest asset. The unremarkable face can contort itself into any expression or assume any persona he wants it to. One moment he is the tragi-comic legend Charlie Chaplin, and in a matter of moments, you find yourself staring at the cold and dangerous face of Marlon Brando in The Godfather, speaking in a soft, deadly voice that can send a chill down your spine. As a mime artiste, he can express a whole range of emotions without uttering a word.

You look behind the many visages of his ‘rubber face’ and probe him about his life, and you discover that Samir has another talent — he can recount a tale dramatically. And here is the story of his amazing life in his own words.

I wanted to be so many people

Since I was five years old, I had a dream. I wanted to be an entertainer. I would dress up as different people. I was known at school for my talent to impersonate others. Then I was ‘discovered’ by a talent hunt show when the Tunisian television started. I was 17 then. I became famous. And one day I left it all behind and went to London. I was 23 and I realised my talents would be limited in Tunisia.

I studied Drama and Comedy for two years and got my diploma. I also had a diploma in Pantomime. In Tunisia, I was a television star, but in England I washed dishes at night and studied during the day with the money. But I was happy because I had a goal.

America, here I come!

After two years, I went to Tunisia on vacation. It was the year 1975. When I was younger, I used to impersonate James Brown, one of the most influential entertainers of the 20th century. It so happened that he was in town at the time. I was introduced to him. We became friends and he invited me to try my luck in the USA.

I was James Brown’s guest for three days. I impersonated him on TV. Though he was very helpful, I wanted to strike out on my own. I had gone to America with only $150. But I could speak three languages — Arabic, English and French. But most important of all, I could speak the language, which I don’t speak at all — pantomime. That’s what made me famous.

A drop of water in a desert

I had landed in Atlanta, Georgia, and I went to New York. Once there, I told myself that I didn’t know anybody and I have to do something to get attention. It so happened that on my way to the US, I had made a stop in Canada, where I had bought a Charlie Chaplin costume at a wayside shop. I took out the costume and dressed up like Chaplin. The magic moment came when I stuck the moustache. I looked unbelievable! It was like finding a drop of water in a desert.

I was staying at a small hotel on Broadway. I decided to try my acting skills in the real theatre of life — the street.

The moment I stepped out of the hotel, from an unknown, I became everybody’s friend. Everyone was shouting and screaming, “Hey Charlie, you look great!”

People were throwing whatever they had as gifts at me as I walked along the street. From then on, I started doing this Charlie act regularly.

One day as I was walking along dressed as Chaplin, it started snowing. There was a Greek restaurant nearby. I stood outside with the typical sad Chaplin look. The owner came out and called me in, and people were fighting to buy me a meal. After that, whenever I was hungry, I could always dress up as Chaplin, give a sad look and someone would always buy me a meal. It was sheer magic. I thought, let’s feed Charlie first, and worry about Samir later. At least one of us is fed.

I had found a job by then, but I had not come all the way to take up an ordinary job. So, when I had enough money to buy a ticket, I flew to Los Angeles. I still had that $150 in my pocket!

Frank Sinatra gave me $50!

I found a small place — enough for me to lie down. It was near a famous restaurant called Chassen’s. Big producers and stars came there. So I decided to dress up as Charlie and go there. I thought, maybe a producer might discover me.

When I reached there, I saw these big limousines bringing Hitchcock, Frank Sinatra, Elizabeth Taylor … people I used to stand in movies to watch. I thought, oh my God, I’m living a dream, and I’m in it!

Every night, the celebrities came out after dining, and as they stood waiting for their cars, I would do a little show dressed as Charlie. All these big names, they’d come, shake my hand and slip dollar bills. Frank Sinatra gave me a $50. I had my pride, I never asked for money. I just stood there and did my show. I was happy with whatever they gave me for my talent. After midnight, I’d go to the market with the money and buy some food. That kept me going.

‘Do you have a business card?’

One day someone came up to me and asked, ‘Charlie, do you have a business card?’

‘Why?’

‘Elizabeth Taylor saw your act. I’m her manager, and she wants you to perform at her birthday party.’

So I quickly got some business cards made. No matter how cold or hot it was, I’d stand there at night and do my act. And after that, as people gave me tips, I’d hand them my card. And during the day, I’d wait by the phone hoping to get calls.

I got calls asking me, ‘Hey, Charlie, how much do you charge for an hour?’

I became a household name in celebrity circles. My hard work and perseverance had finally paid off. I performed at homes of Dean Martin, Kirk Douglas, Henry Fonda, Jane Fonda, Fred Astaire, John Travolta, Mohammad Ali… I made headlines in local papers, but no one knew who I really was. I would not speak, except through my eyes ... my facial expressions. I could make people laugh and cry like Chaplin, without uttering a word.

The magic night

I moved from Chassen’s to La Scala Restaurant in Beverley Hills. And one night, my hero Marlon Brando came out of the restaurant. They called a cab for him. He stood waiting. It was after midnight. It was just him and me outside. He ignored me and kept staring at the street. But I thought this is my chance, I had to talk to him. I approached him and I said, ‘Hi, Mr Brando, My name is Samir Kamoun, I’m from Tunisia.’

‘That’s too bad.’ He said without looking at me.

It was tough to go on, but I pulled myself together and started again: ‘Mr Brando, I used to stand in line to see your movies. You’re my hero. One day, I hope to make it.’

Still looking straight ahead he asked, ‘To make it in what?’

‘In the movies. Charlie was just an idea to open a few doors for me I want to be an actor. But I don’t know the answer.’

‘I got the answer for you my friend,’ he said in that soft, cold voice of his. ‘You are sick … sick like me … like every actor.’

‘But Mr Brando, I love it so much!’

‘Then you’re very sick. It’s a disease. And you’ll be lonely, very lonely.’

It was a dramatic moment. It was like a scene from a movie.

The taxi arrived. ‘Mr Brando, don’t leave me like this. Can you give me some advice?’ I begged. 

He got into the cab, but rolled down the glass, stuck his head out, and for the first time looked straight at me and in the typical Brando style said, ‘Go back to Tunisia.’ And he drove away.

His words rang in my ears. I couldn’t move. I began to cry leaning against a wall. I finally dragged myself home in those over-sized Chaplin shoes.

I had three posters on my wall — Mohammad Ali, Charlie Chaplin and Marlon Brando. I looked at Brando’s poster and asked him, ’Why?’

Brando asked me to go back!

But the next day I had an idea. I called CBS and Los Angels Times. I offered them the story. They loved it. I did it the American way. I sold it to CBS because they paid me more. CBS gave me 20 minutes free of airtime. It is a lot of time! I told the viewers the story, and spoke Brando’s lines like him, and people loved it. In the end, I said, ‘Mr Brando asked me to go back to Tunisia. He was not against me. But he was scared I’d be lost in the big city. But one thing he doesn’t know is how strong I am and how the word impossible does not exist in my book.’

LA Times also carried the story on the front page. I became famous.

Whenever I walked on the streets, people honked horns and shouted, ‘Charlie, don’t listen to Marlon Brando. You’re great! Keep going!’ My tips doubled. You see, Americans love the underdog who’s struggling to make it big. It was like an underdog pitted against the giant Brando. In a way, I have to be grateful to him. He made me famous.

Hollywood beckons

One day, the producer of The Godfather, Al Ruddy came to the restaurant. He gave me his card. He said, ‘Charlie, we’re going to prove Brando wrong. Come to my office, I want to talk business.’

I went to his office and he gave me a small part in my first movie — the Cannonball Run. He made my dream come true!

I continued to do my Charlie act outside the restaurant and gave away thousands of cards, knowing one of them was going to be my lottery ticket. One day I got a call from Lew Wasserman, the owner of Universal Studios, Hollywood. He said, ‘Young man, I have been watching your act for four years on the street. I want you to become part of Universal Studios.’ And I got this big break. Though I’m from Tunisia and a Muslim and despite my name, which I have not changed, they looked only at my talent. I have been working there for the last 27 years. I do a warm-up to the stunt show The Wild, Wild West and Animal Planet. I became the Studio’s goodwill ambassador. I became the artist of the year at the studios. All this is because of my hard work, the quality of my shows and because my talent was recoginised. I’m the true symbol for the American dream. I am still living the dream. I don’t want to wake up from it.

Life as Charlie

“I don’t speak a word for seven hours a day, yet I say so much,” says Samir, whose amazing life has been chronicled in My Life as Charlie by Brian Seamann. Though Samir has acted in five Hollywood movies, and has impersonated many stars, he feels that his true calling is as Charlie Chaplin, whom he has been impersonating for the last 30 years. “I have appeared as Chaplin more than Chaplin himself did,” he says.

Samir has travelled widely doing shows as Chaplin and has been honoured by people like the first President of Tunisia and the present one, George Bush Sr, Henry Kissinger, Princess Anne and many others. “But my biggest reward,” says Samir “is when Charlie Chaplin’s son, Sidney Chaplin wrote to me saying that my impersonation of his father was the best he had seen. People ask me, ‘Aren’t you tired of being Charlie?’ I say, no, because, when people see me they smile. And people need laughter in this sad world.”