The pre-80s was undoubtedly the golden era of Pakistani films when people used to wait for their favourite stars’ work on auspicious occasions like Eid and Independence Day. Now, in its dire straits and in desperate attempts at revival, Lollywood is churning out stuff that is anything but highly recommended for entertainment.
Lacking in stars like the late Mohammad Ali and Waheed Murad, directors with authority of the calibre of Pervez Malik and Nazrul Islam, musicians such as Sohail Rana, Nisar Bazmi and Robin Ghosh, screenplays that guarantee success and a film that can be categorised in a proper genre, Lollywood today is on the brink of self-destruction. No local film produced in the last 10 years, barring a few, can be called successful or of international standard.
Although the industry did meet a short revival a decade back, when Javed Sheikh came up with Mushkil and Syed Noor directed Jeeva and Sargam, that was the end of the beginning. The resurgence met a premature death thanks to plagiarised attempts by Shamim Ara with Munda Bigra Jaye as well as Miss Istanbul and fruitless efforts by seasoned directors Sangeeta, Samina Peerzada, Faisal Bukhari, Faheem Burney and Asif Ali Pota.
Between 2000 and 2004, only a handful of films including Shaan’s Mujhe Chand Chahiye, Javed Sheikh’s Yeh Dil Aapka Hua and Rashid Khawaja’s Salakhain managed to show some sense. Otherwise, films in this part of the world flopped left, right and centre. The transition continues to be downward as only one of the four films released during 2005 showed some promise.
Film actor Nadeem, who bid farewell to films at beginning of the 21st century for television, was the common factor for the downfall of Pakistani films. He had the most substantial role in nearly every film being produced — from Imran Malik’s Tere Bin Jiya Na Jaye and Reema’s Koi Tujh Sa Kahan to Mubasher Lucman’s Pehla Pehla Pyar. He was the heroine’s righteous father, Nawab Bahadur Yaar Jung, in Imran Malik’s venture and got the most ridiculous of names — Uncle Romeo — in Reema’s directorial debut. In Lucman’s failed attempt, he was the tycoon — Seth Tahir Dawood — with a copied background theme from Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather, suggesting his links with the underworld.
The question is: Which of these three movies was the best among the lot? Before pronouncing a verdict, it would be better to assess the ventures collectively but also on an individual basis so that impartiality reigns and a verdict based on facts rather than favouritism can be reached.
Although the movies mentioned above had excellent cinematic value — from a crystal clear print to DTS recording — it is the content that should have been clear and crisp. Sadly, a lack of common sense helped Lollywood create brilliant blunders such as in Koi Tujh Sa Kahan, the police was unable to find the murderer who fired a gun despite the viewers knowing all about ballistics and forensics (thanks to CSI). In Lucman’s Pehla Pehla Pyar, there was no blood whenever someone was shot while in Imran Malik’s Tere Bin Jiya Na Jaye, at the climax of the movie, the hero ends up waiting for a train at the railway station on his way back to Dubai from Pakistan? Such and many other goof-ups could have been easily avoided.
The story was a huge disappointment in two out of three films with only Reema’s venture being diverse. It began as a love story then changed its gear to a thriller around intermission time and climaxed as a film about revenge with a somehow meaningful end. Imran Malik’s film began and ended senselessly without a proper story line, very similar to Mubasher Lucman’s venture. Pehla Pehla Pyar’s story was put together by Irfan A. Urfi and it appears that the director and Mr Urfi were the only two out of all the movie watchers who actually knew what it was all about.
Besides the storyline, acting always plays an important part in deciding whether the film would boom or bomb at the box office. In all three films, a variety of newcomers tried their hands at performing on the big screen, but nearly all of them failed due to the lack of good quality hard work. In Koi Tujh Sa Kahan, Veena Malik failed miserably in every aspect of performing arts in her short (read supposedly) aphrodisiac role, whereas the lead — Moammar Rana and Reema — worked exceptionally well alongside newcomers Babrik Shah and Simran Kauchak (the surprise package from UK), carrying the film on their own, whenever required. In Tere Bin Jiya Na Jaye, Ahsan Khan was the star performer since he was the only one who could dance and act. Imran Malik couldn’t act at all in his last film and neither this one. Zara Sheikh couldn’t live up to the potential she showed as recent as five years back on her debut and the same can be said for Pehla Pehla Pyar’s Resham whose debut film in 1995 was a smash hit, but the remaining of her films have been smash flops. Pehla Pehla Pyar failed because of lack lustre histrionics from Ali Tabish, Resham, Zara Sheikh and of all people, veteran filmstar Nadeem, making it a nightmare on Bunder Road.
With poor storylines and crazy newcomers, the film songs in this part of the world are what saves a movie from going down the bin. If they are unattractive, no one would spend any money to watch the film. This prompted Shehzad Gul to import Indian playback singers in Ghar Kab Aao Gay six years back and the trend now seems to be gaining favour in Lollywood. Renowned playback singers from India like Udit Narayan, Sonu Nigam, Abhijeet, Shaan, Alka Yagnik, Shriya Ghoshal and Saadhna Sargam, all rendered their vocals for Lollywood last year with only Pehla Pehla Pyar having local vocalists. This is one field where all three movies passed with distinction, with Lucman’s film putting up a good fight with limited resources against world-class commodities. Sadly, it had the most ill-placed songs for reasons unknown — in a scene where Nadeem’s character divorces his wife, the background features a qawwali, Dil Na Kisi Ka Toro We Banday, instead of violin, simple chorus or nothing at all.
In Malik’s Tere Bin Jiya Na Jaye, despite the bride’s father telling the hero that he should not meet his daughter who is about to get married, a Mehndi song is shown with more of hero’s friends as extras than the heroine’s even though the occasion has nothing to do with them. On the other hand, Reema’s films had excellent song placement as there was a shaadi song on the couple’s anniversary, a romantic number in flashback and a well-conceived melodic number at the climax.
What Pakistan desperately needs instead of imported vocalists are imported choreographers as they delivered the goods in blockbusters such as Samina Peerzada’s Inteha, Ghar Kab Aao Gay, Tere Pyar Main and Yeh Dil Aapka Hua. Reema asked Saroj Khan to help her out on her debut and that is why she excelled. In Imran Malik’s film, Ashraf Sherazi was the choreographer but since Ahsan Khan was the only one able to dance in the movie (it is rumoured that he choreographed the songs he featured in), there was no need for Mr Sherazi. Same goes for Tere Bin Jiya Na Jaye where a dress designer seems to have been hired as choreographer as the former excelled but the latter failed.
The dialogues were average except those of Reema’s film where Khalil-ur-Rahman Qamar did a remarkable job. On the other hand, maestro dialogue writer Ali Sufian Aafaqi — director of yester-year blockbusters — failed miserably in Pehla Pehla Pyar and Tere Bin Jiya Na Jaye. His dialogues were shoddy and unexpectedly speculative like: “Tum logon ne meri bohat care ki, main tumhara thankful hoon.”
Time for the final verdict. On a scale from one to three, Reema’s Koi Tujh Sa Kahan stands out as the best because it had a story which others didn’t, with better acting than the rest. Imran Malik’s Tere Bin Jiya Na Jaye — a tribute to eastern women — comes second for being better than Mubasher Lucman’s Pehla Pehla Pyar which was based on ‘some true events’ but still fell flat. Had director Ajab Gul been able to arrange a special screening or a CD recording of Kyun Tum Se Itna Pyar Hai which this scribe missed because of some earlier commitments when the film opened for viewing in Karachi, one is certain that it would have made to the third place easily as it is rumoured to be better than Pehla Pehla Pyar. One hopes that films on the lines of Reema’s effort are produced otherwise cine-goers would be forced to use their Rs100 somewhere else rather than throw it away as cinemas tickets.
A ray of light
When Reema set foot in the industry, she set trends, broke hearts and created a sensation. Ever since, she has been the backbone of the Pakistan film industry. “I have my own beliefs, morals, principles and my own rules, and I live by them,” said Reema when recently approached by this writer. “I love life. I want to live life freely and be useful, and to look back with a sense of satisfaction. I understand myself and therefore I accept myself for who and what I am. I think self-knowledge is very important and I have self-confidence, self-control and self-reliance.”
So is it the air of confidence about her that has made her stand out among all the other Lollywood actresses, or is it something more? “I see myself as a morally clean person and I don’t hold anything against anyone, even people who are my worst enemies. I believe in setting my own rules. Have you ever had the experience of driving through a beautiful landscape and looking in the rear-view mirror? You catch a glimpse of the breathtaking beauty that you have left behind. I believe that in my life, I have constantly adjusted my rearview mirror to use it wisely and relive the beauty of past experiences that, at that time, seemed modest and unexciting.”
So how does she look upon the film industry now? “Like a scab on a wound, films here have always been seen as a blemish on entertainment. I do not see it that way; entertainment can both be related to the small and the big screen. The medium of films is very much flesh and blood in texture and evokes powerful passion. My being in films has given me an identity and fame, but it has taken away my privacy, too. But still, I can very confidently say that if I were given a second chance, I would take up this profession again.”
If such is her passion for films, why isn’t she working beyond her home production? “There is no quality left in our films today. I cannot stoop to such a level, I can’t dance to double-meaning songs and I don’t wish to be part of the Gujjar culture anymore. Yes, I did a few movies where I had to do this kind of stuff, but then I firmly decided to do quality stuff. I don’t want to leave the industry with countless substandard films behind me but a legacy of quality productions. If the roles offered to me are good, I don’t mind doing them. Otherwise, I would rather not be a part of it at all.”
But wasn’t Koi Tujh Sa Kahan a Gujjar venture as well, with its dance routines and masala plot? “The film had all the ingredients of a commercial film but it wasn’t vulgar. Did you see any scantily clad women in the film or did it contain any obscene scenes where you felt uncomfortable even for a moment?”
And still, where does she herself 10 years from where she is now? “I have always known that I will always be an actor. My priority is to address social and moral issues, and I see films as the perfect medium because they encompasses the portrayal of human relationships. Today, we are in a chaotic mess not because of economic downfall or faltering bilateral disagreements; rather, morality, at its core, is in splinters. As people, we have moved away from all that is good. Films, I believe, if made properly, can be the moral mirror of society. I want to make films which help in developing people’s character,” says Reema.— Moazzam Abbassi