(spoiler free)
Two prizes at Cannes Film Festival, shortlisted for a Best International Feature Film Oscar and originally banned in its home country of Pakistan. Joyland has certainly made a name for itself in the lead up to its general release.
The Pakistani drama directed by Saim Sadiq, in his feature length debut, follows Haider (Ali Junejo), a young stay-at-home husband married to make-up artist Mumtaz (Rasti Farooq). However, family dynamics quickly change when Haider, who has previously never been a breadwinner gets a job at an “erotic” theatre. There he develops a close relationship with Biba (Alina Khan), a transgender performer who he becomes a backing dancer for.
Haider comes from a family that believes in more traditional Pakistani values, so both his previous status as a house husband and his new job at the theatre are considered far from desirable by his immediate family. He and Mumtaz live in a town house alongside his brother Saleem (Sohail Sameer) and his family, as well as the brothers’ conservative and overbearing father (Salmaan Peerzada). So even within the walls of their own home, they are both subjected to harmful attitudes that influence their actions.
Throughout the film Haider, Mumtaz and Biba all become victims of similar conservative attitudes attached to many of the traditional values of inner-city Lahore, and much of Pakistan as a whole. In doing so Joyland acutely displays the dangers of imposing such regressive aspects of tradition, especially on society’s most vulnerable groups. The film’s initial government-imposed ban only strengthens Joyland‘s case then, as this real world reaction and censorship further confirms the severity of this problem; highlighting the oppression encouraged by the patriarchy. The film remains banned in the Punjab province.
Audiences are steadily reminded of the outdated, misogynistic and queerphobic attitudes that surround Haider’s everyday life from the offset, and throughout the film. Although at first the focus is predominantly directed towards his new job and relationship with Biba, which in isolation is a more familiar, amiable queer love story.
With this latest chapter in Haider’s life comes a viewing experience that’s enriched by the fish out of water comedy that accompanies him as he attempts to manoeuvre this new vocational arena. The specific theatrics of his job only adds to this further, with backstage antics and comical co-worker friction adding to the melodrama nicely. The performance sequences are a wonderful example of the vibrancy and creativity this setting has to offer too, delivering a healthy dose of sparkle and camp to the proceedings and giving the Lahore tourist board a must-see attraction to promote.
This entertaining first act is then complimented even more so by the blossoming relationship between Haider and Biba. Although with the well-established context of his more traditional father and the increasingly unsettled nature of Mumtaz in the face of much neglect, there’s an overwhelming sense that there will only ever be a brevity to Haider’s new found liberation.
Despite this foreboding fallout though, it’s easy to become immersed in the delights of Joyland as newcomer Ali Junejo captivates the screen with his mild-mannered and endearing portrayal of Haider. He brings a sweetness and charm to the character that makes the film effortlessly compelling and Haider pleasing company for viewers.
In stark contrast to Junejo’s cute timidness arrives Alina Khan’s commanding performance as Biba, or “Madame” as she’s known at the theatre. She has such striking screen presence and brings Biba’s formidable character to life with tremendous confidence. The pair are the definition of opposites attract and the subsequent relationship they form is consistently engaging, in all its many complexities.
And if Joyland is one thing, it’s complex. Not in a way that’s hard to follow or confusing, but in its emotional depth and character writing. This is demonstrated nowhere more so than in the film’s third act, which somewhat redirects the film’s story from a queer romance to a family drama, and more specifically how the two affect each other.
However, there’s more at work here thanks to Sadiq’s thoughtful screenplay, which he pens alongside Maggie Briggs. The duo are always careful to frame the events of the film and the actions of the characters within the specific context they find themselves in. They are victims of circumstance, and sadly this is a scenario that often holds the potential for those who are first unfairly treated themselves, to later do the same to others. And Joyland presents this eventuality with incredible maturity and understanding, empathising with its characters instead of blaming them, ultimatley creating a hopeful space for audiences to do the same.
With that considered it’s clear that Joyland is completely worthy of the fanfare that it’s generated thus far, and as well is deserving of its trail blazing status for Pakistani cinema amidst awards season, being the country’s first film shortlisted for the aforementioned Academy Award category, amongst other firsts at Cannes.
The film both celebrates the best of its country’s culture, whilst simultaneously taking a firm stance against the bigoted influence of its patriarchy. It does so with its attention firmly on those most at risk, exploring the subsequent intricacies of their existence with a potent honesty that breeds devastation. This necessary response to hate and repression gives Joyland an unmistakable eloquence that deserves to be listened to with the utmost haste.
Written by Hamish Calvert
★★★★
Thanks for reading this review, if you enjoyed it and would like to support us you can buy us a coffee HERE and make sure to follow us @HCMovieReviews over on Twitter.
Thanks to Queen’s Film Theatre for screening access
HCMovieReviews 
Leave a comment