Celebrating mediocrity

Recently I had the singular misfortune of seeing a Pakistani film which had been showered with fulsome praise by film critics of some standing. Brilliant thriller, full of adventure, a new age revenge film, the first of its kind from Pakistan that will change your perception of Pakistani cinema: terms like these were tossed around with abandon until one was led to believe that this offering was nothing short of a masterpiece. Naturally, I reached for the popcorn convinced that this would be well worth the daunting cinema ticket of 1000 rupees.

Alas, it was an unmitigated cinematic disaster during which my neurons were smashed to smithereens. Coupled with regret at the wasting of my hard earned money, this cemented my belief that this creative endeavor could only be the outpouring of a director who could not afford therapy, hence he unloaded this diatribe on revenge based on incidents in his life. The gentleman conceded as much when asked at the film premiere.

When the lights came back on, the few people who had survived this unspeakable experience looked like zombies who exchanged looks like war survivors while limping down the stairs. I was simmering with anger like rice in a pressure cooker and my throbbing headache was not alleviated even by a chocolate sundae. Soon I was questioning the sanity of those critics who had loved the film. Until the penny dropped.

Our entertainment industry critics are a breed apart. It seems that free passes to films and grand premieres, rubbing shoulders with celebrities at parties, preening selfies and razzmatazz friendships are all that matter to them. There have even been instances when leading film stars have had the audacity to request bloggers not to give critical reviews of their films, because they are afraid that it will deter audiences from watching their magnum opus. Recently, a prominent actress refused to grant an interview to a journalist on the grounds that he had not praised her performance in a film. She was indignant and vented her anger at a press conference by asking why when the whole world had garlanded her with accolades, this chap had not fallen in line too?

The same fawning treatment is meted out to our television dramas which regularly depict the toxic male hero who sees the error of his ways after stretched out gargantuan episodes. Of course, this is all due to the tender ministrations of the weeping heroine and these kind of relationships that are depicted on screen go a long way in normalising patriarchal stereotypes. During a Twitter space which I hosted to discuss the horrendous Noor Muqaddam murder case, when some female participants pointed out this worrying trend in TV plays, an entertainment journalist started berating me: we were not supposed to critique the “creative industry” because that would demoralise and upset artistes. Did I not want art to flourish in Pakistan, buffeted as it was by intolerance and religiosity?

When constructive critique is equated with patriotism, it opens up a minefield. Loving your country should not mean loving mediocrity in the name of art. I once asked the incredible television playwright Haseena Moin what was the difference between the women in her dramas and today’s television dramas: she said her female characters looked for solutions and the women in dramas now go around in circles.

But this begs the question: why should change come when mediocrity in the name of art is rewarded time and again? It boils down to an inability to face reality, because we prefer living in denial.
Let us cast a look at our neighbor, Iran, which has undergone great strife and turmoil in the last few decades which has had a tumultuous effect on their social fabric. Despite facing censorship and hardship on a daily basis, Iran’s cinema is making great strides on the international stage, because there is ample talent, dedication and honesty.

Unfortunately, the ji hazoori syndrome has permeated the body politic of Pakistan. It is not only the entertainment industry that is suffering from this malaise. The same is true of the publishing industry where famous authors regularly write fawning blurbs for writers and pen social media posts which claim that these literary gems are worthy of the Booker prize, no less. If you are unlucky enough to fall for the free publicity and purchase the book, you are left perplexed trying to make sense out of drivel. Spurred on by mediocrity, these writers churn out more of the same ad nauseum to be met with even more rapturous applause by critics and so the cycle continues.

In the realm of politics, one cannot expect followers of a cult to not idolize misogynist political leaders, but it has to be said that even self-proclaimed feminist women and men support such leaders. This inability to speak truth to power is reflected in almost every sphere of life. Statesmen have been brought down by believing in the sweet nothings of their flunkeys and advisors. Pakistan’s history is replete with the examples of such leaders who were brought down by their hubris. As American writer and lecturer Dale Carnegie put it: “Flattery is telling the other person precisely what he thinks about himself.”

Talk show anchors as well as their guests demonstrate constantly the lost art of conversation while award show hosts bray like donkeys and find great humour in asinine jokes which have the audience in splits. The coaster the language, the better. That is what gets them invited back to host the same shows the next year.

As for the film that made me look askance at critics, it was actually built up as an homage to famed Hollywood director Quentin Tarantino. It is hard to figure out whether this is a tribute or an insult. At the press conference, the director claimed that many Hollywood directors who were shown this film had expressed interest in it. True to form, not a single critic asked the identity of these Hollywood directors.

The writer is Oped Editor, Bol News