Zindagi Tamasha (2019)

Sarmad Khoosat’s exquisite film has hit a nerve.  Zindagi Tamsha hits a nerve that is so sensitive that the State believes it best to avoid it altogether.  Out of Sight, out of mind.  Instead, audiences are force-fed a diet of putrid, brain-dead piffle showing the State’s contempt for their people.  Like a herd of sheep, a simple, unthinking, non-critical populace is much easier to control.  Propaganda films are mistaken for patriotism, while films that draw attention to real issues are swiftly banished.  Why not take a tip from regimes who have famously poisoned water supplies to various parts of the population with similarly sinister aims?  To keep them dumb enough, never to raise a voice or any questions.  Sheep are much easier to control than thinking human beings.

The film takes us to the same world of Joyland.  Patriarchy rules and self-appointed Men of Faith are the custodians of morality despite being as morally corrupt as the worst of us.  Just as with the Catholic Church, there is a history of systemic sexual abuse, which has tarnished the Holy Man as being just as fallible to temptation as anyone else.  In Pakistan, we like to believe our Maulvis are next to God.  In reality, so many of them instigate a torrent of sexual abuse of children on a shocking scale despite enormous efforts to cover up.  Only the wholly brainwashed among us would allow our children to be in the care of predators posturing as God’s representatives on earth. 

The film starts with a respected Naat reciting man, Khwaja Sahib, among close friends who coax him into dancing at the festivity.  Reluctantly he agrees.  A friend suggests he perform a saucy number to one of his favourite songs from an old film.  He obliges with a bumbling version of the dance, and there is immediately a sense that not all the banter and laughter are friendly. 

Very soon, the mood changes as it seems his ludicrous and distinctly unsexy dance has ruffled a few feathers.  A day or so later, the video of his clumsy buffoonery appears on social media and the righteous squirm in horror at the disgusting, ungodly act he has participated in.  Within days hi respect in the community evaporates, and friends turn foes.  His newly-wed daughter, who produces the most cringe-worthy Morning Show, recoils in horror as the video circulates, unable to accept the dishonour her father has brought upon her family.  She distances herself from her “ideal“, feeling hurt and badly let down.

As his social ostracization gathers pace, he is advised to issue an apology on video to stop the tide of hatred engulfing him.  Making the apology on video in front of a big wig Maulvi, he is humiliated, groveling for forgiveness lest he be labelled a”gustakh” (traitor) of the worst kind.  It doesn’t end well.

In the Land of The Pure, there can be no room for men to insult our great forefathers by dancing lewdly like one of the captives of the Red Light Area even if it is his daughter’s wedding and he is among old and good friends. 

Exclusion awaits at every avenue, with the righteous insistent upon damning the man’s existence.  When he dares to raise his voice in his defense, he is cut down to size by the Righteous and humiliated even further.  The worst wound he suffers is his daughter’s shame because of his pathetic little dance.  The hate begins to suffocate his existence though he tries his best to swim against the tide; it proves a losing battle.

This poignant tale brings into sharp focus how we have, over the years, lost the ability to live and let live.  Anything that causes the slightest joy is considered a sin,   and there is nothing for sinners but exclusion and humiliation in today’s Pakistan.  Those who disguise themselves chameleon-like in the garb of saints are a dime a dozen, not only in Pakistan!

Though the film’s subject matter is profoundly depressing, it is also a significant accomplishment and another step for Pakistani cinema qualitatively.  Zindagi Tamasha with Joyland perfectly encapsulates a prevalent mindset that is unforgiving, bereft of joy, relentlessly judgmental and bristling with hate for anyone who does not conform to their brand of twisted righteousness.  Twisted and bent to represent a brand of Faith that exonerates and fortifies their role as bastions of morality and virtue, and anyone who falls foul must face their wrath.  The film is beautifully observed and crafted and dares to say what everyone already knows—our lip service to Palestine (despite the horrors of Black September and General Zia’s role) and the blind hatred of anything American despite our National Cricket Team being forever sponsored by Red White and Blue Pepsi-Cola. 

Some things, alas, don’t seem to change.  However, films like Joyland and Zindagi Tamasha, still deprived of a local release because of a bunch of rabble-rousers, proves beyond any doubt that Pakistani cinema is capable of overcoming any hurdle and is beginning to produce occasional excellence when it comes to meaningful, thoughtful and relevant cinema. 

The acting is of the highest caliber, and the filmography has a keen sense of striking imagery.  The editing, too, is snappy enough to keep the film from stumbling into TV drama territory.   Sarmad Khoosat, with Zindagi Tamasha and Kamli, has positioned himself at the forefront as a filmmaker of extraordinary talent, setting the standard for cinematic integrity and excellence.  Brave enough to depict a society with unflinching honesty, warmth and passion.  Pakistan ought to be immensely proud and grateful.