One of the few advantages of writing for a print publication is that, on occasion, one gets to take a deep long breath, clear the head from the immediacy of deadlines, and really, really think about a movie.

Now, this practice may not be applicable for all motion pictures. Sometimes, all one really needs is five minutes (or even just the trailer) to predict how the movie will turn out.

Then there are films like Arth — The Destination, a drama-musical that prompted 11 pages of hand-written notes, and compelled a re-viewing before putting pen to paper (or in this case, fingers on the keyboard).

Set aside your preconceptions of what Shaan’s Arth is supposed to be and it will reward you with his new calling card

The revisit was a tough choice. Arth had a few things going against it — especially on the technical aspects of filmmaking.

First thing’s first though: the viewer must set aside preconceptions before watching the film. This Arth is shrewdly labeled as an “inspiration” of Mahesh Bhatt’s film for a reason. It is not the same film.

In a sense, why should it be? The first was a dark and tense character drama about infidelity and female empowerment. This one is about personal rediscovery set within sun-kissed foreign locations, pop-rock music and a different protagonist.

In his version, writer, director, producer and actor Shaan Shahid plucks a minor character from the original (played by Raj Kiran) and twirls and recalibrates the story into a modern drama about modern people, with a lot of great music (by Sahir Ali Bagga). It’s a good call.

Shaan plays Ali, a rock singer who returns to Pakistan after his divorce settlement leaves him penniless. Like most people (men or women) married to aggravating gold-diggers, he is happy to simply get away in one piece.

Ali, though, is a relic of the past. A one-hit wonder no one remembers. In one scene outside a food outlet, three women politely ask him to step away from his old Volkswagen so that they can take a selfie with the car.

Nevertheless, even failed successes have their fans. Ali’s one sole devotee is an enthusiastic, mid-thirties woman named Uzma (Uzma Hassan) — a full-time faithful wife, and part-time indecisive novelist who keeps re-writing her book’s third and fourth chapters. (As she later tells her friend, being a happy wife leaves little time for anything else).

Uzma is happy-go-lucky by nature, who believes that her husband, Umar (Mohib Mirza) is God’s perfect creation. Umar, on the other hand, is a two-faced, spineless adulterer in the middle of a hot-and-heavy affair with a clingy, bipolar film actress named Umaima (Humaima Malik).

When Uzma, giddy and jumpy with excitement, finally meets her idol, Ali had just been kicked out of a gig. This is the instance that changed Arth for yours truly, as Shaan channels Ali’s hardship into an actor’s greatest weapon: an inspired moment to go deep into his role.

Shaan’s performance — and that of his actors — is very clear to decipher. They are as close to real people as one can see in commercial cinema and, for once, with an evident progression and climax as individuals.

In a split-second, Ali’s face contorts into a multitude of well-balanced expressions that tell a story on their own: in a world of hurt and low esteem, ready to cry, he is accommodating a selfie for perhaps his only fan. As Uzma shows him the hoodie he signed in 2009, he — and we — realise that he is nothing more than mere memorabilia.

That’s not the only time Shaan commandeered the screen. Arth, in fact, is a testament to Shaan’s perceptiveness as an actor.

Shaan’s performance — and that of his actors — is very clear to decipher. They are as close to real people as one can see in commercial cinema and, for once, with an evident progression and climax as individuals.

While Shaan chooses to intentionally forgo detailed exploration of the story arc between Mohib and Humaima (limited to steamy scenes in fancy rooms), the front-and-centre story between Ali and Uzma is fresh, contemporary (especially on how English is spoken as a fluid, supplementary language) and decent.

Shaan’s connection with his character Ali may not be evident straight away, but they are both stuck in an unfair rut. Shaan’s insistence of being the central point of Arth will be branded as an ego-trip, despite the industry’s acceptance of his dexterity as an actor.

In reality, Arth is a big new headline in his resume. Whether emoting the strain a singer feels on his chest and vocal chords, chapping his lips while performing live, to the unscripted spit that flies out his mouth as he hits the end of a high note in a song, or the slight and obvious nuances of normal everyday behavior, Ali is Shaan’s new calling card.

After 500 or so bad-to-mediocre feature films to his credit (including recent ones), I believe the only way he had left to show his range as an artist was by giving himself a worthwhile platform to perform.

Let that notion be digested for a second. A bonafide superstar has to make a film for himself, because no one else can.

Of his co-actors, Uzma Hassan and Humaima Malik are brilliant in a few scenes, and oscillate between mediocre to good in others. I believe one reason both actresses were given their real names is because, as screenwriter, Shaan may have chosen to use their perceived images to Arth’s advantage. People may find Humaima’s anxious erraticness familiar (or it may have been easier to play-it-up for the actress, who knows).

On a technical note, two flaws spring out at the viewer immediately: the choice of regular fade-outs and the constant sway of the camera. Editorially, an alarming number of scenes end at a slow dip to black which, technically speaking, signifies a passage of time or the end of a chapter in the narrative (which is true in some instances).

The swaying camera, a bad practice from Pakistani television and commercials, is slightly less annoying because the human mind adapts itself to it … eventually.

Irrespective of the issues, Arth, at the very least, feels like a motion picture. In a sea of superficial, television-esque productions, that’s no small feat when you think about it.

Published in Dawn, ICON, December 31st, 2017