Georges Khabbaz is one of those rare figures in Lebanese culture whose work almost everyone knows, even if they do not realize how deeply it has shaped them. Actor, writer and composer, he has moved effortlessly between theater, television and cinema, building a body of work that is both widely popular and critically respected.
His relationship with the stage began early, during Lebanon’s war years, when going to the theater was not entertainment but habit, education and escape. Those early experiences formed his discipline and his sensitivity as an artist. They also shaped the way he approaches storytelling, with clarity, emotional honesty and respect for the audience.
Decades into his career, Khabbaz remains grounded and precise about what he does and why he does it. Fame has never been the goal. Meaning has. In this conversation, he speaks about where he comes from, how art and identity intersect and what it takes to remain present in a world that moves too fast.
Did you come from an artistic family?
I had no other choice but to act. My parents took me to the theater constantly. Even during the war, we crossed borders just to watch a play. We lived in East Beirut at the time, so we went everywhere. Piccadilly, Saroulla, Casino du Liban, Château Trianon, Georges V.
At home, we had a very large library. Art books, political books, poetry, music. I was very young when I memorized the plays of the Rahbani Brothers. Around 20 plays. We performed them at school. All of this helped me discover my talent early.
Later on, I discovered other schools of theater, more international ones. But theater was always the foundation.
If you had not followed this path, do you see yourself in another profession?
No, not at all. I studied piano and I compose music, but always for work. For plays, for films. If acting had not worked out, I would have gone deeper into music. But outside the art world, I never saw myself anywhere else.
What have been the most memorable projects of your career?
The theater, without question, especially my 16 years at Château Trianon. Every year, the play ran for six months, nonstop.
At that time, there was no theater that stood in the middle. High artistic value but still popular and accessible. After Chouchou, Ziad Rahbani and Nabiha Abulhassan, this kind of theater almost disappeared. I was not trying to imitate anyone. I wanted to bring back something that spoke to everyone, regardless of age, culture or background. That experience taught me the most.
On television, “Abdo Abdo” was a major turning point. It was a huge success and changed the sitcom format on Lebanese TV.
Cinema is not my first love, but I am grateful. All the films I made traveled to festivals and won awards. Recently, “Yunan” competed at the Berlin International Film Festival and went on to win Best Actor awards in Hong Kong, Las Palmas, Rotterdam and at the Red Sea Film Festival. The film itself won many awards as well.
Now, international offers are coming, including co-productions between Lebanon and abroad.
What do Lebanese artists bring to the global stage that is different from the West?
Their industry is much older and more structured. Professionally, they are far ahead. But we have something else: identity, feeling, pain and enthusiasm. A very specific emotional language shaped by our circumstances.
Working with the West is beneficial on a professional level. But emotionally, it goes both ways. They also benefit from our depth and from what we carry inside us.
How would you describe your relationship with Lebanon?
It is my home, and home is everything. Home is not just walls and a ceiling. It is family, friendship, memories. Even loss. Some of the people I love are buried here. My connection to this land is like a tree. The roots are invisible but full of thorns. Education, memory, experience. I love this country with all its problems. It raised me. It embraced me. It taught me.
Batroun holds a special place for you. Why?
My father is from Batroun, my mother is from Jal El Dib. Batroun is where I am connected to the sea. My friends. My school. Many of my memories are here. Batroun has authenticity. Old houses turned into guesthouses, old streets, a certain calm. Wherever you sit, you feel something real.
In a time of speed, social media and constant noise, people need nature and authenticity. That is why Batroun draws them in.
You are very well known yet widely respected and approachable. What keeps you grounded?
Faith and the understanding that none of this is permanent. What remains is impact. What you leave behind in the people you meet. Fame is an illusion. People will forget you. Maybe in 50 years, maybe in 400. Art gives the feeling of immortality, but even then, people remember the work, not the person. So, I try to leave behind something honest and meaningful. Not for the future. For now.
What would you tell your younger self?
I was very sensitive. I would tell him not to lose that, but to enjoy life more. I was born melancholic — not sad, just old-souled. That sensitivity served my work, but I wish I had lived more lightly at times.
Is there something people might not know about you?
It may surprise people that I need solitude. I meditate, listen to music, read. I need to fill myself up in order to write. Having my own space is something sacred.
Who inspired you along the way?
My family first. My parents and my sisters. I still learn from them. Artistically, the Rahbani Brothers, Ziad Rahbani. Internationally, Shakespeare, Molière, Chekhov, Neil Simon. In cinema, Tarkovsky, Bergman, Scorsese, Antonioni.
What are you working on now?
Besides “Yunan,” the recent film I starred in, I’m busy with preparations for “Khyel Sahra”, a new play at Casino du Liban, and a exciting project with a major platform that will be announced soon.
If you enjoyed reading this, check out our interview with Khaled Mouzanar.
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