Joyland review

That a country like Pakistan can produce such a film land of joy is, in itself, quite remarkable. The film’s story of an unorthodox extramarital affair between a married man and a trans woman has caused a stir in its home country, where conservative religious values ​​hold sway and LGBTQ+ rights are woefully behind; Last year, the film was banned from exit by the right-wing government but was scrapped (with some scenes censored) after strong voices like Amnesty International and Malala Yousafzai spoke out.

However, those hoping for something provocative or shocking may be surprised by the controversy after seeing the film: it’s actually a very thoughtful, nuanced, and sensitive story about queer love, and a deeply thoughtful exploration of what modern ideas about gender and sexuality feel like. uncomfortable. in a rigidly traditional society that still expects marriages to be arranged, men to earn a living and women to be housewives.

Above all, it’s a vivid and beautifully honed character study, told by a formidable cast and a script that treats each role with respect and consideration. Most impressive is Alina Khan as Biba, portrayed as a transgender woman with real agency and real power, in a culture that can treat her as a second-class citizen. She is tough and sharp-tongued – we get brief glimpses of the Khwaja Sira (“third sex”) community of Lahore who are supportive and supportive of her, but that she is also vulnerable and flawed. Khan is a surprising discovery: making her film debut here (as did many on the cast list), her on-screen presence immediately commands attention.

No wonder Haider (Khwaja Sira) soon falls in love with Biba. Pressured by his father to meet certain societal expectations (get a job, have a child), Haider takes a job at a lap dance show, initially, it seems, just to prove he’s no dud. He’s a good soul and, it’s implied, maybe somewhere on the queer spectrum (he once played Juliet in a school production of Romeo and Juliet), but his extramarital affair with her is nothing short of sensational. He tenderly protects Biba, while dealing with a love and sexual desire that he doesn’t fully understand.

Shooting in natural light but also with elegant cinematography that vibrates with inventiveness, first director Saim Sadiq (who also co-wrote the screenplay with American director Maggie Briggs) brings this level of care to almost every character. In another soapier film, Haider’s wife Mumtaz (a superb Rasti Farooq, another film debut) may have been nothing more than a caricature of an “offended woman”, but she also has layers: trapped by the patriarchal system. that suffocates one’s desires.

Mumtaz becomes the unexpected center of the film’s final act, which takes a turn so unexpectedly tragic that the film’s title begins to seem misleading; after the subtlety of the above, the film’s conclusion is almost too melodramatic. But the overall effect always comes. It is a truly remarkable film and deserves to be seen widely, in Pakistan and beyond.