*Unit Stills Photography by Ioannis Donev, AR Studios 2025. All Rights Reserved, 30 July 2024 - Athens, Greece*

There are two ways to cast an actor.

The first is the traditional way. You put out a casting call, agents send over their finest, you sit through hours of auditions, and eventually, someone walks in and makes you feel like maybe—just maybe—you haven’t completely wasted your time.

The second way is far less conventional but, in my experience, far more effective. It involves befriending a man in a restaurant, failing spectacularly to pay for a meal, and having him casually mention that his friend, Christina, is an actress. A sentence uttered with the same enthusiasm one might use when recommending a decent mechanic.

And that’s how I found Aysha.

*In picture: Marianna Zachou. Unit Stills Photography by Ioannis Donev, AR Studios 2025. All Rights Reserved, 30 July 2024 - Athens, Greece*

It was May 2024, and I was in Athens, deep into pre-production for “Our Little Act of Rebellion”. We had locations, crew, and most of the cast. There was just one small, glaring issue—we still hadn’t found our lead actress. The Greek casting team had been fantastic, but no one quite fit.

Enter a man - let’s name him Giorgos (because that’s what half the population of Greece is called), my restaurant-based nemesis. No matter how hard I tried, I never paid for a single meal in the restaurant in which he worked. And during one of these increasingly ridiculous standoffs, he mentioned her colleague Christina (who managed the restaurant actually), was an actress. “You should meet her”, he said.

So, I did.

Now, when you offer an actor a lead role in a film, the usual response is excitement. Maybe some nerves. A bit of imposter syndrome at most. Christina’s response? Immediate refusal. And not even in person—she did it through messaging, very late at night, while I was sitting in Apanemia with the crew, drinking what I can only describe as a heroic amount of Ouzo (and peanuts).

It was like fuel to a fire. Suddenly, what should have been a straightforward casting decision turned into what felt like Cold War negotiations. A relentless back-and-forth, me insisting she was perfect for the role, her countering with every possible reason why she wasn’t. Language barrier. Too busy. Wouldn’t be able to communicate with me.

Nonsense, all of it. So, I did what any rational director does in this situation—I ignored her protests entirely and sent her the script.

A few hours later, she caved. Well, partially.

She loved the script. She wanted to do it. But…

Still busy. Was worried about her English, and that still maybe I should just cast someone else.

Right.

At this point, most people would take the hint. But filmmaking is not for people who take hints. Filmmaking is about persistence, about crashing through obstacles like a man in an SUV who absolutely shouldn’t be driving off-road but does anyway.

So, I pushed on. We met again—this time at her restaurant, on a balcony, under the kind of golden light that makes everything look like an overly dramatic perfume advert. And finally, finally, she said yes.

And thank God she did.

Because from the moment she stepped into the role, she was Aysha. Every concern, every hesitation—gone. She threw herself into the film completely. The so-called language barrier? Barely an issue. And the performance? Extraordinary.

But what I didn’t realise at the time was that I hadn’t just cast an incredible actress—I’d also unknowingly entered into a lifelong financial hostage situation.

Because the second we established that director-actress trust, something odd happened.

Every time I went to her restaurant, she refused to let me pay. Ever. I tried sneaking money onto the table. I tried paying before the food even arrived. I even considered bribing the waitstaff. Nothing worked.

And it didn’t stop there.

One day, during production, we had a rare rest day. Christina wasn’t working, which meant—at last—a chance to eat in peace and actually pay for it myself. So, I went in, had a great meal, and confidently asked for the bill.

The waiter approached, looking slightly nervous.

“I’m really sorry, but Christina is watching you on the cameras… and she’s told us not to let you pay.” At this point, I should mention that she had also warned her colleagues—only half-jokingly, I assume—that if they did let me pay, there would be consequences. Something involving the loss of a limb.

And that, really, tells you everything you need to know about Christina. She’s an extraordinary talent. Fiercely dedicated, incredibly generous, and deeply committed—not just to her craft but to the people around her. She took a role she didn’t believe she could play and delivered something truly special.

So, Christina—thank you. For your trust. For your hard work.

“Our Little Act of Rebellion” is going to blow people away. And when we stand together at the world premiere in Athens this summer, I hope you finally see what I saw in you from the start.

See you all soon.

Ranw Aso-Rashid
Founder/CEO
AR Studios

How Christina Malliou Became Aysha (Despite Her Best Efforts to Escape It)

How I Met Editor Aggela Despotidou Who Made Post-Production Fun (No, Really)

Friendship vs. Business: The Industry’s Oldest Trap