I go to New York to see live shows, not movies.
My dream is not Hollywood, but to perform my act in English to 30 people in a Soho comedy club, to show New Yorkers what they look like from the French point of view.
My name, my origins, my background and my experiences are what leveraged my success. The angle of the immigrant, through which I examined the reality in France, distinguished me.
I like to do comedy. It’s my real passion. I want to make people laugh.
Morocco is completely alive for me because I spent about a third of my life there. The first few times I went back to Casablanca, I walked through the streets and remembered how years earlier I had walked those same streets and prayed that a miracle would happen and I would leave and become famous.
Actually, I don’t like dogs. I’m from Morocco, and people there don’t like animals.
Comedy in America is very serious. Either they laugh, or they don’t.
Journalists ask me, ‘Why don’t you ever talk about sex in your performances?’ True, I don’t talk about sex – not in my personal life and not in my professional life. This is modesty.
I don’t feel any need to play the role of the clown. In my private life I take a break from humor.
When you succeed, at a certain point, you want to challenge yourself. Otherwise, you become boring. You become a has-been. It’s not very interesting. I don’t want to be this guy who has only succeeded in France. I could say, ‘O.K., that’s it; merci.’ But I’m not interested in that.
There were two things I used to do to seduce girls: jokes and music. Since I’m not a great pianist, jokes were my thing.