Zia attempts to radicalize Pakistan society has been the source of many evils facing Pakistan today.
His main push was to eliminate the so-called “vulgarity” from the society. But ironically, one of the steps he took back-fired, and resulted in even more vulgarity in society. I am talking about his deliberate attempts to kill Pakistan cinema.
He was quite successful in this endeavor. Today Pakistan cinema is virtually non-existent. But the death of Pakistan cinema left a void. And much to the chagrin of many people, this void has been filled by the Bharati cinema.
Now Bharati cinema is much more vulgar, and no-thanks to Zia’s radical policies towards our cinema, Pakistan people have no choice but to watch Bharati cinema, and get effected by its bad influence on Pakistan society.
Reporting from Lahore, Pakistan - The Odeon Cinema’s creaky, ripped red vinyl seats are mostly empty except for a couple of back rows where a dozen Pakistani men sit slouched, their eyes half-open, legs slung over the seats in front of them. Along the hall’s bubble-gum pink walls, rows of fans barely move the hot, dank air. The Odeon’s loudspeakers crackle like a ham radio.
The feature on this recent evening is a Pakistani film called “Majajan,” a love story. The barely breathing, Lahore-based Pakistani film industry produces less than a dozen movies each year, which explains why every day, three times a day for the last three years, the only movie screened at the Odeon has been “Majajan.”
Welcome to Lollywood, or what’s left of it. It wasn’t always this way. Back in the 1960s and '70s, Lahore buzzed with movie shoots, red-carpet premieres and box-office hits. The Pakistani film industry has always been based here, and though it didn’t have the girth or dazzle of Bombay’s Bollywood, “Lollywood” thrived in a country staking out an identity distinct from its Indian neighbor.
In their heyday, theaters such as the Odeon had queues of Pakistanis snaking far beyond the box-office window and down Lahore’s bustling sidewalks. Moviegoers dressed in their snazziest salwar kameezes and arrived two hours before a showing to secure tickets.
Today, Pakistani cinema has all but vanished, a victim of the VCR, cable television, President Muhammad Zia ul-Haq’s Islamization of Pakistani society, and finally DVD piracy. In 1985, 1,100 movie houses operated in Pakistan; today, only 120 are in business. The few directors, producers and cinema owners often rely on second jobs to make ends meet.
Reviving the industry necessitates junking what’s left of Pakistani cinema and starting from scratch, says Jahanzaib Baig, a Lahore cinema owner pushing for a revival of Pakistani film. Baig has been lobbying the government to clamp down on DVD piracy, a scourge that keeps Pakistanis from leaving their living rooms to head to cinemas. “We have hit rock bottom,” says Baig. “We can only go up. Whatever we had before is not only destroyed but is obsolete in terms of technology and skills. So we’re setting the foundation for a new film industry in Pakistan.”
Sangeeta, a Lollywood mega-star during the 1970s and one of the few survivors still directing homegrown films, says a revival of the industry can happen only if the Pakistani government lends a hand.
“We need government support,” says Sangeeta, now 52. “We need new cameras, new studios. Right now, producers aren’t investing because the equipment isn’t good.”
On the set of a television drama she’s shooting, the hardships Sangeeta faces are evident. The cameras are dead ringers for clunky 1980s camcorders. There are no trailers, no craft service, no security to keep Pakistani passers-by from wandering onto the set.