Dina El Sherbiny Has Nothing Left to Prove

If you were to type Dina El Sherbiny into Google this very second, the algorithm would serve up a neat little hierarchy of her existence: first, an exhaustive filmography - roles stacked up like a CV she never asked to write - then, predictably, IMDB, a smattering of red-carpet moments, and further down, the viral TikToks (because, yes, she is extremely online). But keep scrolling, and you’ll hit the inevitable: a mess of articles that, rather than dissecting her craft, seem singularly obsessed with the fluctuating tides of her love life. 

In March of 2023, Dina slipped into a role that, for all its novelty, still found itself firmly stationed at that ever-fraught intersection: marriage, motherhood, the particular drama of domestic life, of love. Alongside Sherif Salama, Essad Younis, Sedky Sakhr, Ahmed Kamal, and Mariam El Khosht (just a handful from a cast that sprawls), El Sherbiny steps into the skin of a newlywed - though, crucially, not one of those glossy, clean-slated brides, but a woman already shaped by past marriages. The ensemble is a mix, a blend - veterans rubbing shoulders with fresh, unlined faces. Among them, Hamza Diab, Lina Sophia, and Malek Emad, each bringing their own particular brand of newness.

And yet, something about it stuck. Three Ramadans later (or, to be precise, three years, though time is always measured differently when a show turns ritual), Kamel El Adad (++, add as many as you like) has kept Egyptian audiences pinned to their screens. Layla - Dina’s Layla - has become something of an emblem, a mirror held up to mothers who might never admit to weeping in the dimmest corners of their homes after a particularly bruising exchange with a teenager, yet find themselves laughing despite it, despite everything. Because, of course, it is all cyclical: the storming out, the inevitable return, the lifelong refrain of motherhood - I am here, you will listen. 

Perhaps that is why Kamel El Adad works - why it nestles itself into living rooms and refuses to leave. Because at its core, beneath the tangled storylines and the domestic chaos, it understands something fundamental about people: that they are not singular, not fixed, not easily labelled. Layla is a mother, yes, but she is also an entire world unto herself - loving, volatile, stubborn, tender, full of contradictions. And so is Dina.

Dina El Sherbiny is not a woman easily pinned down. She does not sit in cafes dissecting her essence, nor does she attempt to distill herself into neat, digestible parts. She is a Pisces, people tell her - moody, romantic, sentimental - but she does not spend her time tracing the stars for explanations. “I don’t know much about astrology,” she admits. They tell her that Pisces love deeply, forgive easily, cry at the slightest provocation. Perhaps it’s true, but it is not the whole truth.

And this is the thing about Dina - she resists the finality of arrival. That triumphant moment when an actor stands still, looks out at the vastness of her career, and declares, I have made it. She doesn’t buy into it. “Honestly, I haven't had that moment yet,” she says, shaking her head. Perhaps there were milestones - roles that nudged her name further into the public’s consciousness, moments where she felt the warmth of recognition. The 2016 drama, Grand Hotel, was one such turning point. “That’s when people started to notice,” she acknowledges. “But even then, I wouldn’t say I’ve ‘made it.’ I still feel like I have a long way to go.”

There is a particular type of actor whose allure is built on distance - on cultivating an air of mystery, on being seen but not known. Dina is not that actor. Kamel El Adad is now three seasons in, and with every episode, she finds herself more entangled in the homes of Egyptian families. “The reason people love it is the same reason I wanted to do it,” she explains. “It brings families together. It appeals to all ages, from kids to grandparents. It’s a social show, it unites people.” And she is not being sentimental - this is fact. Ramadan nights in Egyptian households are punctuated by the hum of the television, the familiar pull of a show that folds neatly into the rhythm of family life.

Her character, Layla, is a woman in constant flux, caught between the past she carries and the present she is trying to build. “She’s very similar to me,” Dina admits. “She hasn’t changed much - she’s still emotional, still deeply loves her kids, still causes chaos over the smallest things.” But life, as it always does, moves forward. “As the kids grow, their problems become bigger. One of the best compliments I received was from mothers whose children have travelled abroad - they told me they felt exactly like Layla when they watched her son leave.” This, to Dina, is the real measure of success - when fiction stirs something raw, something real.

It is no accident that Dina understands family so well. She grew up in the thick of it, in Heliopolis, in a building where doors were rarely closed and solitude was a rare occurrence. “Our home was always open,” she recalls. “My uncle lived upstairs, my grandmother was always around. We were a big family - four siblings, my parents, and lots of relatives visiting all the time. We ate together, watched TV together, spent all our time together.” This kind of childhood, full of noise and warmth, does something to a person. It makes them crave company, it teaches them that presence is an act of love. “It made me love being around people,” she says. “I always want to be surrounded by my family and friends. And it made me resilient - you learn that everything passes. You become stronger because of it.”

There is a duality to Dina - an intensity that some misinterpret as aloofness. “At work, I’m very particular. I come prepared, I know my lines, I want everything to be perfect. So, at first, people might think I’m too serious.” But then, away from the cameras, she is something else entirely. “I’m very lighthearted. I wear my heart on my sleeve. If something upsets me, I react immediately, but I also let things go quickly. I don’t hold grudges.” This refusal to linger in bitterness is, perhaps, one of her greatest strengths.

But for all her devotion to cinema, there is one role she will never take on - director. “No, I don’t think so,” she says definitively. “It’s a huge responsibility, and honestly, I can barely manage my own responsibilities. I respect directors immensely, but I don’t see myself in that role.” What she does see, however, is a challenge - a character that stretches her, forces her into unfamiliar territory. “I actually prefer roles that are completely different from mine. I love stepping out of my comfort zone.” There is one role, in particular, that lingers in her mind. “I’d love to play a visually impaired person,” she says. “I think it would be a powerful and emotional role.”

Even as she speaks of the future, her schedule is tightly packed with the present. There is Darwish, a film alongside Amr Youssef, directed by Walid El-Halafawi, a project shrouded in enough secrecy to make her smile mischievously when asked for details. And then there was Riyadh Season, where she took to the stage and felt the electric charge of a live audience. “I loved it. The Saudi audience is amazing. They are so enthusiastic, and their love for Egyptian dialect and humour is heartwarming.”

In another life, perhaps she would have been something else. But in this one, acting was inevitable, even if she kept it hidden at first. “Deep down, I always knew,” she confesses. “As a child, I would act in front of the mirror for hours, replaying movie scenes, memorizing lines. I didn’t know if I was good at it, but I knew I loved it.” She had to fight for it - convincing her mother, proving that this was more than just a fleeting ambition. “My biggest challenge was convincing my mother to support my acting career. She was against it at first, but I was determined to prove to her that I could succeed.” And she did.

Dina El Sherbiny is not especially interested in summing herself up. The search results will try, the headlines will insist, but she knows better than to flatten a life into something easily packaged. She has been many things - lead actor, cultural fixture, Ramadan’s familiar face - but none of it feels final, none of it a stopping point. There is always another role, another story, another way of seeing herself reflected back. For now, the work continues and the cameras keep rolling.

Credits: 

Produced by: Scene Styled | Mo4 Network

Scene Styled Managing Editor: Farida El Shafie

Producer & Art Director: Nariman El Bakry

Photography: Abdallah Sabry 

DOP: Ahmed Reda

Styling: Mohamed Ashraf

Makeup: Reham Khalifa

Hair: Ahmed Mounir | Al La Mode Salons

Wardrobe: Stella McCartney & Balmain via Le Collezioni // Kiza the Brand // Anippe // Alexandre Vauthier via Villa Babushka 

Production Manager: Abanoub Fouad

Gaffer: Ahmed Gamal & Mazen Mohamed 

Camera Technician: Bahaa Mohamed  

Video Editor: Mariam Raymond 

Location: Tamara Haus

Editorial Design: Maleka Younes

Special Thanks: Amir Adel