Love Guru’s bewildering draw at the box-office — currently claimed to be 70 crore rupees worldwide — wasn’t ever a question of ‘if’ but ‘when’.

Given that the film is still playing to packed houses — and that Deemak, a bare bones, somewhat good-looking horror film, has also done remarkably well (the gross is nearly 13 crore rupees) — indicates that audiences still do care about films, and that the 1,000-rupee ticket price in Pakistan is not that big of a hurdle to cross.

But as of this month, few new films capable of bringing audiences out to the cinemas are in production, and certainly none on the scale of Humayun Saeed’s film.

Prominent under-production titles are but a few, namely the Farhan Saeed-starrer Luv Di Saun, the Hareem Farooq-produced Mango Jatt, Shaan Shahid’s untitled romance-thriller produced by Meera, Shehzad Rafiq’s Welcome to Punjab, Syed Noor’s Price of Honour, Lalkara Singh in Lahore and Meri Jannat, Nadeem Cheema’s long-lingering Delhi Gate, and the Abu Aleeha-directed Seylum.

A handful of films, however, do not make an industry — in fact, they can hardly sustain the business for the remainder of the year, especially when the fraternity is more interested in producing discord rather than serviceable movies.

Some of the problems are as old as time (figuratively speaking), which shifted into high gear since Covid-19: the divide between film hubs Karachi and Lahore and who should be hailed as the heir and custodian of the industry, and why being one at this particular time is important; the often destructive approach to conducting business; the gaping distance between producers, distributors and exhibitors; the lip-service and hopes pinned on governmental support; the fear of failure; and, most importantly, the lack of investment to keep the film industry afloat.

Icon has delved deep into some of these issues before, and little has changed since other than the fact that, in the past, these problems would come and go like the seasons, changing their immediacy somewhat, though always somewhere in the background. This time, they’ve compounded.

A handful of films do not make an industry. Despite the success of Love Guru and even Deemak, the Pakistani cinema outlook is bleak for the rest of the year. Why is the country’s film fraternity more interested in producing discord rather than serviceable movies?

To quickly recap, the delay in opening cinemas post-Covid-19 (it took more or less a year) and the hurried and hasty rise of streaming services dealt a blow to the film business worldwide that is only now, finally, showing signs of recovery on a global level.

To clear the situation with numbers, worldwide cinema business was at a record high of $42.5 billion in 2019, falling to $8.62 billion (2020), then rising steadily to $19.52 billion (2021), $22.82 billion (2022), $28.14 billion (2023), and $30 billion in 2024. So far, 2025 has earned $9.37 billion, and is poised to hit $34 billion by the year’s end.

In Pakistan, however, the opposite is true. Earnings of domestically produced films are pathetic. With no regularisation or dependable source to verify box-office earnings, the numbers that do reach people and the media — even on successful films — should be taken with a grain of salt.

However, even with massive failings between 2020 and now — owing mostly to the wholesale release of less-than-stellar titles lingering on the backburner since Covid-19 (too many to count, the last of which, The Martial Artist, Qulfee and The Window came out this Eidul Fitr and Eidul Azha, respectively) — films such as London Nahin Jaunga (LNJ), Quaid-i-Azam Zindabad, Ghabrana Nahin Hai, Tich Button, Dum Mastam, Teri Meri Kahaniyaan, Daghabaaz Dil, Umro Ayyar, Money Back Guarantee and The Legend of Maula Jatt (TLMJ) did manage, more or less, to entice audiences back to the ticket window.

While LNJ reportedly made 50 crore rupees (500 million) worldwide, and TLMJ still continues to add to its 400 crore rupees (4 billion), the average domestic gross for the rest of these successful titles lies between 13-16 crore (130-160 million) rupees. The average gross of the rest (ie about 90 percent of films that become box-office disasters) ranges from one to three crore (10-30 million) rupees.

To put this average into perspective, a run-of-the-mill film’s budget is five to seven crore (50-70 million) rupees, which means they should earn between 15-21 crore (150-210 million) rupees at the box office just to break even.

Suffice to say, with few hits given by domestic and international cinema, and a reliance on international Punjabi titles — which, notwithstanding the recent Indo-Pak skirmish, do still make it to Pakistani cinemas (Saunkan Saunkanay 2 starring Ammy Virk and Sargun Mehta is playing in cinemas right now), local investors took a few dozen steps back, effectively grinding the film production business to a halt.

Something had to be done to jump-start the film business, and so the film business entered its “grant” phase — a noble initiative announced by the federal government that should have helped motivate investment in films, but nearly stopped it altogether.

After ceaseless engagement from the movers and shakers of the film business, Marriyum Aurangzeb, at the time holding office as the Federal Minister of Information and Broadcasting, launched a billion rupee film fund as a bail-out-cum-support mechanism for the film industry.

The fund, announced in 2023, invited proposals from filmmakers in an advertisement published on May 12, 2024, promising up to five crore (50 million) rupees to qualifying filmmakers, which would off-set production costs. Reportedly, a total of 117 submissions were submitted for grants. However, the fund, presumably awaiting a nod of clearance from the Ministry of Finance, was never allocated.

A year and a month later, a new advertisement, requesting proposals for “films, telefilms, songs, dramas and documentaries”, came out in the press. The proposals, the advertisement states, should include one or more themes from a list that includes “National Security Policy, Defenders of Homeland, Counter Terrorism Efforts, Tourism and Cultural Performances, Business or Infrastructure Development, Pakistani Diaspora Issues, Social Issues and Development, Pakistani Music, Sports and Foreign Policy Objectives.” The advertisement sprang out of nowhere, bewildering industry people, who had already submitted to the fund.

Upon inquiry, the Directorate of Electronic Media & Publication (a part of the Ministry of Information that functions as the custodian of the fund), informed Icon that the fund had still not actually been allocated and also that the previous submissions were now deemed ineligible since the previous fiscal year had ended. Prior submitters were, of course, encouraged to re-apply.

This new exercise, however, doesn’t change the past. Back when the federal fund was announced, the film industry, assuming that a billion rupees’ investment was around the corner, had already stopped productions dead in their tracks, failing to understand that government matters take their sweet time navigating the trenches.

Since every producer had submitted for the grant, and since most Pakistani filmmakers’ bread and butter comes from television, nearly everyone waited for the grants to come in to off-set costs. Without a constant stream of workable movies in production — and by “workable movies” one refers to commercially viable films in the vein of the successful films listed above — cinema shrunk, losing audiences and screens (the number of screens in Pakistan wound down from 150 to 110).

Credit where credit is due, though. Realising that the federal fund may not happen, Marriyum Aurangzeb, having taken up office as the senior minister in Punjab, launched a similar grant under the Punjab Chief Minister Maryam Nawaz, to aid the ailing film business.

This new grant, according to ministry sources, has 255 submissions (the submissions closed mid-May of 2025). As confirmed by the senior minister herself in a text message, the fund, at two billion rupees, is twice the size of the federal fund, and will top-out at a grant of three crore (30 million) rupees per filmmaker. It is designed to accommodate filmmakers from all regions — it is not just restricted to Punjab or Punjabi language films — pushing, presumably, over 60 films into production.

The government support doesn’t stop here. An incentivisation plan will also be announced by the Punjab government, presumably in a month’s time, that would “grant” all Pakistani films released in cinemas a percentage of gross box-office earnings. The intention, according to one’s understanding, is to accommodate and reward those filmmakers who could not qualify for the grant.

Not to be left behind, the Sindh government rolled out its own fund nearly two months ago. However, according to many industry sources — producers, distributors and exhibitors who spoke to Icon on request of anonymity — its impact on commercial cinema remains somewhat uncertain.

The Sindh fund, accommodating films, dramas and documentaries, is not a grant; instead, it is considered a fully funded work-for-hire job, where qualifying production houses — a stringent requirement that elbows out all independent filmmakers — will be given a set of government-selected themes to create storylines, whose intellectual rights would be signed over to Sindh’s Information Department on approval.

It is assumed that both Punjab’s box-office incentivisation and Sindh’s funds will likely be recurring programmes.

Films, of course, help promote a soft image of a country, while shaping national and international perspectives and sentiments. In today’s world, the “weaponisation” of films has also become an issue; to gauge the power cinema has, one needs only look at Bollywood and how its cinema indoctrinates a skewed perspective of other countries into the subconscious of its own people.

Supporting cinema, therefore becomes a no-brainer. However, one-time grants would only succeed in a temporary mobilisation of film production. One can think of it as a small band-aid, covering a deeper wound.

What the film industry needs is regularisation, as well as avenues to attract private investments and corporate support. It is uncommon knowledge that the film business, in its entirety, is tax-exempt till 2027 (thanks in no small part to Marriyum Aurangzeb’s efforts). However, only a handful have taken advantage of the write-offs the government offers.

It would be premature to point out the critical downsides to the incentives before they come to pass — that whether the 30 million rupees grant is enough of an off-set to make big-budget productions feasible (it should be noted that only big-budget films have historically turned out to be successful), or whether box-office incentivisation will empower 90 percent of the producers whose films fail at the box-office, to make another film.

To reiterate, the average cost of production is quite high, and even tightly accounted low-budget films made in two crore (20 million) rupees need 60 million rupees to break-even. Bigger films, such as Love Guru, given the design of the mechanism, will get a bigger reward from the government, but whether this incentivisation would prompt immediate production of new films remains a question for future analyses.

A key factor that leads to some (if not most) internal discords is the Karachi-Lahore factionisation, mentioned earlier. According to multiple sources from Punjab, there is a belief that the Punjab fund should exclusively be for Punjab’s filmmakers — however, a counter argument is that most productions, successful or otherwise, are from Karachi, which led the “revival” of films in 2013. It is also widely believed that most old Punjab-based filmmakers only “woke up from hibernation” — as one source put it — because a fund was announced.

The recent elections of the Pakistan Film Producers Association (PFPA) — the only registered and recognised film trade body in the country — factors into the divide. As per sources that spoke to Icon on request of anonymity, members of the PFPA had earlier come to an agreement, in which Karachi and Lahore representatives would take turns heading the organisation (ie a Lahore-based chairman and a Karachi-based secretary would run the office one year, followed by a flip the following year).

Allegedly, this undocumented practice continued until the whispers of a Punjab-based government fund made the rounds, prompting a dissolution of prior understandings, and — if claims are to be believed — induction of malpractice to tilt the election results in favour of Punjab-based producers. The results of the election, held on September 19, 2024, was stayed that very day by Lahore’s civil court and the issue remains subjudice.

One other point of contention from Punjab’s producers is the lack of support from A-list actors — the Humayun Saeeds, Mehwish Hayats, Mahira Khans of the film industry — who, allegedly, do not entertain projects from veteran filmmakers. A-list actors often cite a lack of quality and vision for their refusal of projects.

For the time being, Love Guru’s earnings have dampened the industry’s grumblings — though, understandably, not the ones from reviewers (the weakest “critique” this writer heard, from more than one person, was that the make-up wasn’t up to par in a few sequences). The film, though not spectacular, illustrates a crucial point Icon has been making for years: Pakistan’s audiences will not entertain sub-standard films but if one makes a good enough entertainer that ticks all the requirements of escapist entertainment, people will still come out in droves.

If the film industry, and all of its factions, understood that part and came together to resolve petty issues, and made films people want to see (it is really not that difficult), Pakistani cinema may yet bounce back.

Published in Dawn, ICON, June 29th, 2025