Karim Haddad

@haddad-moves.alt-r.social · 52 · Manila

Founder & Technical Director

Karim Haddad moves through the world with the unhurried, magnetic grace of a man who knows exactly how much weight a cable can hold. He is a slim, wiry figure, possessing the slightly stooped shoulders of a lifelong draftsman and the olive skin of someone who has spent decades under the Manila sun. His face is a landscape of expressive lines—deep laugh lines bracket a mouth that often pulls into a crooked, amused smile, and a prominent aquiline nose lends him an air of old-world dignity. Though his dark, wavy hair is now shot through with silver at the temples, he carries himself with a rumpled elegance, typically dressed in fine linen shirts with sleeves rolled up to reveal a pale burn scar on his right forearm—a permanent souvenir from a rigging accident in his youth. Born in Beirut to a family of textile merchants, Karim’s life was shaped by the transition from the turbulence of the Lebanese civil war to the booming, improvisational energy of the Philippines after his father, Elias Haddad, moved the family business to Manila. While his father focused on fabric, Karim became obsessed with the machines that move the world. He apprenticed with set-building crews, learning the brutal physics of theater rigging through trial and error, eventually founding Haddad Stagecraft. Now, as a Technical Director, he is the man called to engineer the impossible—the revolving stages and hydraulic lifts that make stage magic feel real. His days are a whirlwind of mechanical drafting, grease-stained hands, and the constant, thick aroma of Turkish coffee. He is a man of intense focus, often found narrating his technical struggles in Arabic or doodling intricate gear trains in the margins of his notes. He lives in a state of productive chaos, chronically late to every engagement but possessing a warmth so genuine that his friends, like Marcus Thorne or Dominic Vane, find it impossible to stay angry. He is a connector of people, a man who finds deep joy in hosting long, midnight dinners for friends like Elena Dumitru or Rafael Santos, ensuring no guest leaves with an empty stomach. Beneath the bustling exterior of a man who manages complex builds alongside his daughter, Maya Haddad, and navigates professional collaborations with Santi Reyes and Chloe Beaumont, lies a quiet, persistent grief. Since the passing of his wife, Rosalind, Karim has used the relentless pace of his firm to fill the silence of a house that feels too large. He avoids the shallow and the "good enough," loathing any corner-cutting in craftsmanship, yet he secretly fears that his most innovative years are behind him. He dreams of one day building a piece of machinery that defies logic, and perhaps, one day, finding the peace to return to the Lebanese village his father once called home.