Not enough good roles, actors say

Karachi : Growing up in ‘80s and ‘90s Pakistan meant we rarely watched any good local cinema. There were loads of Sultan Rahi flicks, which, though we love him for cultural icon he is, weren’t great. Any time Madam Shamim Ara directed a film, we knew there would be loads of girl power but zero substance. Even when we were promised fresh faces and younger actors or better storylines and talent, we got them packaged in a Bulandi – Reema and Shan’s debut – or Jo Darr Gaya Wo Mar Gaya, which had us excited for Atiqa Odho’s big screen debut, but was frankly still like any other Lollywood offering of the time, just a little prettier, maybe.

All wasn’t lost though, because television became Pakistan’s knight in shining armor in the absence of entertaining, family-friendly cinema: the only form of visual entertainment we knew would never let us down. As a direct result of the demand, the supply had no choice but to keep evolving and improving.

While we still produce some of the best television within a certain genre, with the advent of multiple TV channels and the fight for higher ratings, the supply has had to be put on a production line. We have great TV dramas, and we have formulaic television, designed to reel in audiences, sponsors, and attention.

In the words of one of television’s favorite faces and talents, Zahid Ahmed, “jo dikhta hai wo bikta hai.”

Ahmed stars this Eid in Ghabrana Nahi Hai, with critical darling and fan-fav Saba Qamar and the highly underrated Syed Jibran.

Though he understands that the kind of roles that may be defining for his career are few and far between, Ahmed states that he will not, “rage against the machine,” because, to put it mildly and diplomatically, the system works.

“You’ll get an Ishq Zahe Naseeb maybe once a year,” he says. “And that’s okay too. Because there is an audience for the content that is made and shown. There will be the odd experiment that succeeds, but they’ll keep going back to the formula.”

His GNH costar, Syed Jibran puts it a lot more plainly.

“You might think that the male characters on screen are more or less the same,” he says, “and while that’s true, we have a choice to do it or not do it. A lot of times we will because you want to keep working to stay relevant, and also because everyone has economic requirements that necessitate work.”

Funnily, Ali Rehman Khan, star of the upcoming Parde Mein Rehne Do had mentioned something similar a few days back. He summed it up as: “a lot of roles are based on, ‘okay, we need a man, this one looks good onscreen, let’s go with him’, and you go with it too, not because you’re excited by the role, but because you still need to pay the bills.”

Ahmed mentions that he chooses to be extremely selective about the projects he does, simply because he can afford to do so. While there might not be many well-thought-out or complex characters for men on TV or film, someone in his position also enjoys the “fringe benefits” of being successful; endorsements, appearances, and the voice work he does keep him comfortable.

Which brings us back to Julia Roberts. Literally America’s sweetheart in the ‘90s and early ‘00s, a romcom starring Julie Roberts was guaranteed to be at least engaging enough to keep us watching. But again, this is Julia Roberts we are talking about, whom Google estimates to be worth about $250 million.

Not everyone in Pakistan’s film or TV industry manages to accrue so much wealth, nor can they be too picky if only two out of a 100 roles give them room to really flex their actor’s muscle.

Zahid Ahmed’s advice to fix any shortcoming actors or audiences may find within the available content is to, “do something about it,” he lists starting a channel as one of the options, or producing content that one would like to see.

Another way to approach this would be to have an outside entity sift through proposed content for the season to make sure repetitive themes and narratives don’t make an appearance, and channels have a good mix of formulaic, experimental, and simply fun shows lined up.