Zindagi Tamasha, or “Circus of Life,” fully embraces its own title with a twist of fate that turns art imitating life into a serious reality check.
From the moment its trailer dropped, Zindagi Tamasha’s narrative was misunderstood and misinterpreted. It was hastily labeled as dangerously taboo, burdened with unwarranted seriousness that seemed more driven by agendas than genuine understanding of its context within the religio-societal landscape of our country.
The buzz around the film was immense, as is often the case, amplified by outspoken liberal filmmakers (the type who magnify causes out of context) and advocates of free expression. Yet, amidst the noise, the actual issues remained vague, particularly from 2022 when the film was set for release but then got caught in a limbo of bans and review committees.
Sarmad Khoosat’s Zindagi Tamasha has now made its debut… on YouTube. Contrary to the fervent speculations, it’s a poignant tale of human imperfections and the sensationalism that can lead individuals to become outcasts in their own communities.
Was the film aiming to shame religion or shed light on homosexuality? The trailers hinted at both.
Did the censor boards prevent its release to uphold a long-standing bylaw focused on religious, ethical, and moral aspects of narratives? Or were they pressured into submission?
Regarding the former, yes, the law indeed plays a role in overseeing these aspects, but it didn’t directly apply to the film, which had no such agenda.
ZT delves into family conflicts, human vulnerabilities, quirky yet harmless personal preferences, the exploitation of religion, and sensationalism, all leading individuals to be ostracized within their communities. Ultimately, it explores how a single tragedy can prompt people to abandon their shallow, antagonistic attitudes.
At the beginning of ZT, available for free streaming on YouTube (with a director’s cut for rent on Vimeo), Sarmad Sultan Khoosat, the co-dialogue writer, director, producer, and co-editor, presents censor certificates from different regions in Pakistan, alongside their respective ratings. These certificates allow the film’s theatrical release. In a cheeky rebuttal to the critics, the screen then displays a series of international awards the film has won.
ZT earned the Kim Jiseok Award at the Busan International Film Festival in 2019, along with other accolades at various international festivals. The film was even Pakistan’s official submission to the 93rd Oscars, despite not having a theatrical release in its home country.
According to Sarmad, ZT was initially just a story he wanted to tell, but the preamble on YouTube transformed it into a statement. While controversy could have been avoided, the impact wouldn’t have been as forceful.
Sarmad’s film, crafted from Nirmal Bano’s screenplay, opens with a calm moment amid chaos. Rahat Khawaja (played by Arif Hasan), a moderately popular na’at reciter with a quivering, unmelodic voice, stands before fairy lights, delivering a na’at for the camera.
Rahat’s fame extends to recording albums and composing wedding songs. He’s loved or at least respected, yet his recognition exists within traditional confines. The film creatively captures these boundaries, often presenting them from a bird’s-eye view.
The confinement isn’t just physical; it’s societal. Rahat discovers this when he dances awkwardly to an old Lollywood song, embracing a side he had hidden due to his father’s disapproval. This moment sets in motion a series of events that lead to his fall from grace.
ZT masterfully weaves a story loaded with contrasting viewpoints. It has a clear direction—revealing the flaws and arrogance of seemingly simple individuals. Religion, though omnipresent, isn’t depicted as malevolent. Instead, it’s used to criticize those who exploit it for personal gain.
In a pivotal scene, Rahat stumbles upon a secret gathering of men with homosexual tendencies. The portrayal is sensitive, neither condemning nor sensationalizing their orientation.
Sarmad’s film maintains its rhythm, flowing faster upon a second viewing, even without the 1.5x speed. The somber cinematography by Khizer Idrees and brisk editing by Nadeem Abbas, Bano, and Sarmad reveal the mark of seasoned filmmaking. ZT is a testament to Sarmad’s skill and an excellent companion to his more complex work, “Kamli.”
Produced by Kanwal Khoosat and executive-produced by Irfan Khoosat, Zindagi Tamasha holds a variety of censor certificates. With its themes, it could earn a PG-13 rating, intended for adult viewership due to its mature subject matter, though not explicit in nature.
Leave a Reply