ENGLISH movies — because of their subjects, actors, directors and performances — honed the early taste regarding movies in Dr Enver Sajjad. In 1940s and ’50s, he was left besotted by movies like Bare Foot Contesa, Pandoras and Flying Dutchman, Casablanca, and a little later by The Giant and Gone with the Wind.
Actors like Elizabeth Taylor and Marlon Brando left a lasting impression on the doctor. “Art is always contrived; it is the reproduction of truth or reality. But it becomes an exercise in self-defeat if it looks like a contrivance,” he says. The success of English cinema to draw that line enabled it to produce a lot of great movies. The subjects were bigger — like human conflict, miseries and oppression — and their treatment was marvellous, says Enver.
But English movies were not the only ones to have captivated him, as he was equally impressed by subcontinental films like Khandan, Jugnu and Darya ke Paar. But there was a difference between the two. The Western producers had the advantage of dealing with specific subjects and assemble a specialized team for the purpose. They separated love stories, musical films, action movies and tragic incidents. The subcontinental cinema failed to divide the subjects, and stuffed almost every possible dimension of human life in one movie, be it love, tragedy, music or action. It naturally became impossible for directors to handle so much in the same breath, especially for un-trained movie-makers.
Precisely for this reason, slowly but steadily, creativity crept out of subcontinental cinema and crude formula films replaced them. Now, one can count decent movies on fingertips that were produced during the last three decades, he regrets.
Tracing the genesis of current spell of decay in Pakistani movies, the doctor holds the decade of 1970s responsible. Since then, according to him, Pakistani cinema lost its whatever distinction or saving grace it had since 1947.
Cultural degradation, coupled with greed for easy money, ate away the very foundations of Lollywood. Indian cinema has survived to certain extent on the strength of its technical advantage and trained staff, but Lollywood became a complete disaster. “It abandoned its culture and started aping the apes.”
Until the 1960s, the then renowned PIA Cultural Academy was able to produce great names like Zia Mohyuddin. But, not any more! Had religion been a factor, a cultural troupe could not have performed on the occasion Islamic Summit and subsequent visits by the Islamic head of states. In fact, it was social chaos of the 1970s that left almost all cultural expressions, including performing arts, in tatters.
“The late Gen Ziaul Haq took this cultural degradation to new heights with anti-art policies. Cultural activities were banned at school level that normally used to work as nurseries for performing arts,” he says.
Enver sees no hope for the revival of the Pakistani cinema, because there is “no reason for optimism”. There is no foundation or institution that can revive the fortunes of performing arts, leave alone cinema. “The present and the past give clues to the future, and if someone still sees any reason for hope for the future, good luck to him.”
The doctor has always been a great fan of rhythm. He, as most human beings, was born with a flair for music. Maybe it was because of his father’s love for music. Dr Enver Sajjad is convinced, as many of his contemporaries, that music is the mother of all arts.
He grew up among some great exponents of music, like Azim Prem Razi (qawwal) and Mubarik Ali Khan and Fateh Ali Khan (the father of the late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan). The doctor also learnt playing sitar and later ventured into kathak dance.
But again he laments how the greats Muslim instrumentalists and musicians have failed to attract others into the world of music, and to pass on their talent. “Now, there is no instrumentalist left in the country. A few remnants are wilting under pressure from age or finances and might soon be out of picture,” he says.
The very basis of music in Pakistan is being eroded because of the dearth of instrumentalists. Controversy with clergy, says Enver, only hastened the process that had already been set in by our collective apathy to performing art, and one of its most vital genre, music.
“The over-enthusiastic clergy refused to acknowledge the contribution of great sufis to music and religion. Both have suffered an irreparable loss. Performing arts have lost their validity in Pakistan. State no more patronizes art and provides no employment opportunity to artists,” says the doctor, who wonders how art or music can survive in such a hostile atmosphere.
Enver also contests the myth of talent in Pakistan. “Where is that talent? It is not visible in any form of art, but some people still think it is there. Strange!” The doctor is convinced that only that music, musician or singer would survive who can base their efforts on time-tested foundations — raag — of music. Popular music could also be soothing, but again it has to be built upon the firm foundations. The rest will fade away, and take music and its practitioners down with it.
When it comes to books, Enver claims to have read almost all the classical work in Urdu and English, Charles Dickens, Fyodor Dostoevsky and Manto being his favourites. In the 1940s and the ’50s, Paisa Library and Phool helped nurture love for literature in him. He, along with his bothers and sisters, used to sit together at home and try to develop a story. This fostered the love for book in him.
He read all religious scriptures and work of great writers before himself venturing into writing. The running theme of reading and writing is the famous saying of Hazrat Ali: ‘Why are you slave today when you were born a free man.’
The doctor is totally disillusioned with the future of book, as he is with other art forms. The very basis of reading has gone missing. He laments that people no more read even religious scriptures that is their basic human duty. How can one expect to read other books, he wonders. The price of books has also become a deterrent. He terms it an organized crime the way the prices of books have been made unaffordable for the common man.
FAVOURITE MOVIES: Gone with the Wind and The Devil’s Advocate
ENGLISH movies — because of their subjects, actors, directors and performances — honed the early taste regarding movies in Dr Enver Sajjad. In 1940s and ’50s, he was left besotted by movies like Bare Foot Contesa, Pandoras and Flying Dutchman, Casablanca, and a little later by The Giant and Gone with the Wind.
