The 2022 film Joyland was the first Pakistani film to be shortlisted for an Oscar in the Best International Feature Film category. However when initially released it was banned in Pakistan, its country of origin. Director Saim Sadiq chose his hometown of Lahore as the setting for his feature film directorial debut. The film follows Haider, an average middle-class man, and his family as he gets a job as a background dancer for Biba, a transgender dancer at an erotic dance theater. Even from this brief synopsis it may seem like no surprise that the film was initially banned in Pakistan: erotic dance theater- strike one, transgender lead character- strike two, an infatuated protagonist who ventures into a clandestine world- strike three. Out. But the real “danger” i.e. power of Joyland lies not in these “taboo” elements but rather in the unadorned realism of the subject and the uncomfortable yet beautiful way it’s presented.
From the very first moments of the film Sadiq clearly establishes the rules of the world this story takes place in: a conservative patriarchal community. The elders are to be respected. The men are meant to be the breadwinners. The women are responsible for the house and for bearing children, preferably sons. The rules are set and everyone must follow them if they are to survive in this world. But the lives of the protagonists are already going against the flow of these rules: Haider has been unemployed for two years and is a stay-at-home husband, helping his sister-in-law take care of her four daughters and his wheel-chair bound father. His wife Mumtaz, a bridal make-up artist, is the breadwinner. She loves her job and is good at it too. However when Haider is finally able to fulfill his patriarchal obligation and finds a job Mumtaz must then be the one taking care of the house and is forced to give in to societal and familial expectations. Haider begins working at an erotic dance theater as a background dancer for Biba, our third and final protagonist. She is a fish out of water in this world simply because of her existence as a transgender woman. From the moment they meet Haider is immediately drawn to her. Biba, unlike Haider who is quiet and submissive to his father, fights for what she wants and actively pushes back against patriarchal restrictions. Throughout the film Sadiq also visually reinforces the suffocating and isolating aspects of these societal expectations through the composition of the shots, making the audience empathize by placing us in the perspective of the ones subjugated.
Despite the stifling atmosphere of the setting and the unglamorous ordinary lives of the protagonists, the film is gorgeously shot. The cinematography of Joe Saade lends the film a hauntingly beautiful aura that helps mitigate an often times very sad story. The characters and their lives are elevated by the lighting and color palette they are placed in, giving both the story and the audience a glimmer of hope: despite the hardships there is still beauty to be found in this mundane world. Although the film falls into the typical “indie vibe” of being quiet and slow paced, in this case it works to the advantage of the story as Sadiq emphasizes the commonplace nature of these characters and their struggles. Above all however, it is the performances by the entire cast that are the highlight of this film. All the actors do a fantastic job in making their characters complex human beings. The “antagonists” are still given moments of humanity and the protagonists are not perfect and make bad decisions. Ali Junejo as Haider and Rasti Farooq as Mumtaz especially are experts in conveying so many thoughts with simply their eyes. The entire cast, expertly guided by Sadiq’s writing and direction, are the beating heart of this world. However, one personal pet peeve of mine that this film unfortunately falls into is the trope of a queer relationship being one that involves one of the partners already being in another (heterosexual) relationship and therefore cheating on their partner. Though understandable that a man of Haider’s age living in a conservative and patriarchal system must be married it is unfortunate as this trope is often too prevalent in queer focused films. Nevertheless, despite my personal pet peeve, the execution of this trope was done well as it too aided Sadiq in delivering the message of the dangers of repressing oneself and adding depth to the characters by showing how even the protagonists we are meant to root for make bad decisions like all human beings.
Ultimately Joyland’s power is in its ordinary and unglamorous nature. It portrays realistic people and situations, showing the good and bad sides of everyone and how patriarchal beliefs are damaging. Though fictional, this film doesn’t feel far from our reality, especially as it doesn’t mask its story in allegory or science fiction. What you see is what you get and what you get could very much be happening to someone in real life. Brilliantly encapsulated by Malala Yousafzai, who is also an executive producer of the film: “Joyland is not activism posing as art; it doesn’t argue for a particular point of view or issue a call to action. The film treats each character with compassion, […] It’s a film about the ways in which patriarchy hurts everyone.” Though it deals with uncomfortable topics it contrasts it with the heart and compassion with which this story was told. One does not need to be familiar with Pakistani or South Asian culture to appreciate this film as the themes of compassion and empathy are universal.
Written by Dafne Mistrangelo
