I act therefore Hiam

Hiam Abbass, one of the most respected Palestinian actors of our age, tells Donald Clarkeabout her new movie The Lemon Tree, in which she gets into a dispute with a neighbour who happens to be the Israeli defence minister

IT'S A windy day in Edinburgh and Hiam Abbass, one of the most respected Palestinian actors of our age, is discussing her complicated upbringing.

"The loss of land has been something I have always lived with," she says. "When I was a teenager, I was asking so many questions of my mother she used to get annoyed because she had no answers. If you grow up amid that conflict you are constantly being asked which side you identify with. Eventually I decided that I don't belong to any side. I belong to humanity."

From another actor this comment might sound somewhat glib. But Abbass, now an elegant 48, is the very model of an international performer. Born in Nazareth to liberal parents, she trained as a photographer and subsequently drifted into acting at the first Palestinian theatre in East Jerusalem. In her late 20s, depressed by that pressure to take sides, she emigrated to London and from there to Paris.

"I do live out of a suitcase," she says. "Honestly, it can be a bore sometimes. But it is a gift to be able to meet so many different artists."

In recent years, Abbass has appeared as the mother of a suicide bomber in Hany Abu-Assad's controversial Paradise Now, as an older bride in Eran Riklis's The Syrian Brideand - most conspicuously - as the mother of a detained immigrant in Thomas McCarthy's greatly admired The Visitor. On December 12th, two more of Hiam's movies will open in Ireland. She plays the Algerian wife of the title character in Jean Becker's Conversations with My Gardenerand stars as a stoic Palestinian woman in Riklis's allegorical Lemon Tree.

The latter film, which is set on the edge of the occupied West Bank, finds her character, Salma, dragged into a political controversy when the Israeli defence minister moves in next door. Security officials demand that an orderly grove of lemon trees, tended by the woman's family for generations, be dug up to allow uninterrupted surveillance. A court case results.

One gets the impression that if Salma and the minister's wife got together (they, in fact, never meet) they could sort out the problem in minutes. Is the film suggesting that women are less inclined to unreasonable conflict?

"I don't think Eran is intentionally saying that," Abbass says. "I tend not to like that question because I really don't think if you give power to women that things would be any better. I think they would destroy the world just as badly as men. Men have been more destructive, but woman haven't yet been given much of a chance to wield that power. Maybe women have a different approach to life, but good and bad exists in all people."

Hiam Abbass first fell in love with performance when, as a child, she was taken to see a film presented by a travelling library service.

"I'll never forget the impact of seeing that in my village. Later, at the age of eight, I played the part of a mother in a school play. To look out and see the audience crying was something that stayed with me."

Nonetheless, when the time came to pick a career, Abbass decided to study photography. Her parents, who were both teachers, would, she admits, have preferred her to go to law school or train as an accountant, but they remained largely supportive of her lunge into the arts. Eventually, she went from taking snaps of plays to actually speaking the dialogue.

Her first few years as an actor seem to have been idyllic. Then the grim conflicts of the late 1980s began to sour cultural life in the Palestinian districts.

"It was an exciting time when I was young," she says. "But the First Intifada changed everything. It became much harder to be an artist - not just in the West Bank. Shortly after then, I left. Life had become unlivable. I moved to London with the man I was then with, and that was very exciting."

She has, however, continued to return home to appear in films. Sadly, those projects still tend to focus on the violence and division in that part of the world. Among the most troubling films to emerge from the Middle East in recent years was Paradise Now. She must have had to think long and hard before agreeing to appear in a film concerning suicide bombing.

"Oh yes. You know what? When I read the first read the script of Paradise NowI refused. But my main objection was that my character just seemed to be there to fill a hole: she's the mother. She was any mother you might see in the news. Happily, the writer changed it and really went in my direction."

Abbass has grown into an actress of impressive range and startling charisma. She is also - as you will have gathered - formidably intelligent and forthright. While shooting Munich, Steven Spielberg's thriller following Israeli intelligence's campaign against the Black September movement, she objected to the film's stereotypical portrayal of Palestinian characters and found herself being promoted to technical advisor.

"I'm afraid that is what happened," she says. "I was one of the few people who seemed to have read the script. But, to be fair, they were very interested in my comments and the producer called Tony Kushner, the writer, over and they began to take notes. Steven was very open and they were happy to take that advice."

I wonder if Abbass, who still lives in Paris, had her head turned by the gloss and luxury she experienced while shooting Munich. She is currently very busy appearing in small French films ( Conversations with My Gardener), small Israeli films ( Lemon Tree) and small American films ( The Visitor), but big fat Hollywood films do offer more money and bigger trailers.

"I don't think I would be tempted," she laughs. "Then again, if a really big movie came my way maybe I would do it. I don't know what the future will bring. But I do love life. And I think you are born to draw your own destiny rather than have your destiny push you along."

• Lemon Treeand Conversations with My Gardeneropen on December 12th