In last week’s Icon, Pinky Memsaab’s writer-director Shazia Ali Khan called her film independent. According to her beliefs, an ‘indie’ film is the responsibility of one particular individual; a film free from overbearing, commercial-minded oversight. In normal circumstances, that’s usually a bad thing.

Without keen, experienced oversight, a film hinging solely on the journey and evolution of its characters is liable to get carried away by the whim of its sole commander — a director hell-bent on being resolute.

Thankfully, Khan has a good head on her shoulders that saves her from auteur syndrome. Her debut film isn’t painfully ‘artistic’ nor ‘unique’; a tale told without frilly extravagance or theatrical bent.

In the story, Pinky (Hajra Yamin), a poor woman from lower-class Punjab gets a life-changing opportunity to work as a maid in a posh Dubai household. At first the change is quite drastic; the city is big, unblemished, well-heeled and more than a little irreproachable — the very qualities her boss, Mehr (Kiran Malik), embodies.

Pinky Memsaab is an acquired taste, character-driven and relies heavily on its three main leads — who are, fortunately, outstanding

Mehr, a stay-at-home mum who spends her days sulking on the novel she couldn’t write, is in midst of a deteriorating relationship with her always-busy husband (Adnan Jaffar). Bored, angry and dissatisfied with high-society life, her best friends are the ones she hangs out with most: a bottle of alcohol and self-pity.

Mehr’s eventual pet-project is to groom Pinky into the next ‘Pretty Woman’ — but without the flashy soundtrack or prince charming. The change is mostly Mehr’s need for self-catharsis.

Pinky, on the other hand, is a smart cookie. Ever cautious of her place in the household, she subconsciously fine tunes her life for bigger things. There is even a dash of romance from a Hindu driver (Sunny Hinduja) that she — and the director — perceptively avoid.

Khan, meanwhile, is deliberate of her original inspiration — ie the wearied lives of rich expats — and constrains the screenplay to be as simple and realistic as possible. Minor conflicts are bred in a parallel story arc but none of it — including the resolve — is ‘overly dramatic’ per se.

Mehr’s eventual pet-project is to groom Pinky into the next ‘Pretty Woman’ — but without the flashy soundtrack or prince charming. The change is mostly Mehr’s need for self-catharsis.

From the very beginning, Pinky, Mehr and even Hassan are in a state of slow yet constant growth. Pinky’s aspirations flourish in time, Mehr, though stagnant, takes her time to deliberate her place in the world and Hassan simply wobbles back and forth within the framework set up by the two women.

The story, fortunately, is not a love triangle; rather, it is about understanding one’s needs – especially by the individuals themselves.

If the context sounds familiar, that is because you may have felt it before in Arth — The Destination, Cake, Motorcycle Girl and Dobara Phir Se. Needless to say, Pinky’s fraternity is an acquired taste; one banking squarely on the talent of its cast.

Fortunately, Khan’s key actors Yamin, Malik and Jaffar, are outstanding. Each attuned to their character’s handicaps, the trio performs without one-upping each other in showy swagger (this, by the way, is Jaffar’s best role to date; his previous credits include roles that required weird theatrics and stylish swags in Jalaibee, Jeewan Haathi, Parwaaz Hai Junoon and Chupan Chupai).

Every so often the audience might feel an involuntary stir to call Pinky Memsaab a telefilm and, given its one-line premise, some might just call it that (especially because of the film’s latter half). The execution, however, in particular its film-like cinematography and unfussy editing, narrowly save it from that fate.

It’s a slow dance that is far from perfect. But then again, if you’ve seen the trailer or the poster, you know the kind of film you’re getting into.

Published in Dawn, December 9th, 2018