mysteries, so much further to go,” to which Freud responds,“ Please, we can’ t be too careful! We can’ t afford to wander into these speculative areas. Telepathy! Singing bookcases! Fairies at the bottom of the garden! It won’ t do! It won’ t do.” A similar discussion on ghazal giant Mir Taqi Mir’ s obsession with the moon sets the tone of the fi lm as various critics weigh in on this particular madness of the writer during a TV show. This doesn’ t go well with Jamal( Fahad Mustafa), an upcoming poet who is watching the show in a coffee house and in a way similar to that of Jung, he questions this fi xation with Mir by making a live call on the show and asking,“ Why does Mir not see Neil Armstrong on the moon instead of fairy-like woman?” So begins a fi lm that centres itself around the very concept of madness or vehshat, as the screenwriter interprets it, and uses it to propel debates such as that of the classical vs the traditional. Dr Kaleem( Manzar Sehbai), who leads that TV discussion, is the torchbearer of classics and a great admirer of Mir. He is the polar opposite of Jamal and, much like Jung and Freud, they too fi nd some sort of salvation in one another, whether they accept it or not. The genius of Sarmad really comes out when a very literary debate turns into a discussion about the deconstruction of the present-day human condition and how it gets infl uenced by the surroundings. The consistent tug of war between reason and emotion is what makes the viewer relate to Jamal’ s frustration. Mah-e-Mir uses indulgence in art as an escape from basic existential problems and the artist’ s inability to balance the two. Although the solution it provides is a bit dark and gritty for a viewer who has so far been fi nding his or her catharsis in Pakistani serials, it is nonetheless very honest. On a side note, Manzar’ s outlook, too, has stark similarities with Freud. Perhaps, even I am fi xated. Magic The real charm of Mah-e-Mir, however, lies in the fact that, running for a little over two hours, the fi lm stretches but does not snap. All the visual references in the fi lm, such as that of the halqa( circle), the coffee house, the old bookshop and even minor things such as the Rilke book, were justifi ed within the context of the narrative. In terms of cinematography, it does rely too much on close-ups and at places the viewer is left wanting some breathing space, but even that works within the dramatic context of the fi lm: it runs down emotions; hence, the focus on the faces. The fi lm also carries a very important message for other fi lm-makers: how to use fl ashbacks sparingly yet effectively. They didn’ t seem repetitive and yet, always added some nuance to the narrative without compromising on its pace. Anjum and his actors deserve equal credit for anchoring the fi lm fi rmly. Manzar meant every word he said and felt every move he made only because it was clear that he genuinely knew what he was talking about. Top that with a gruff vocal texture and you’ ll have the best example of method acting in front of you. Paras Masroor as Jamal’ s friend, Ally Khan
MOVIE REVIEW as the ruler of the time and Huma Nawab as Kaleem’ s
ex-wife appear for a short period but make every frame ooze with their dilemmas. Mah-e-Mir is one fi lm of recent times that has the right actors for the right roles, save for Sanam Saeed’ s half-baked portrayal of Naina Kanwal. Moon The problems with the fi lm are both blatant and well concealed with the moon in the sky. Yes, the central issue with the fi lm is the computer-generated moon, an aesthetic choice that eclipses all the curiosity built around its very existence. With its visual implausibility, the moon never becomes for the audience what it became for Mir. Although Fahad has proved with this role that he is the most versatile actor of the new lot, at places his recitation of verses and lengthy Urdu monologues seem a little amateur for a fi lm that demanded total control and fi nesse. On the other hand, there were major issues of sound design as well. The attention-to-detail given to art direction was exactly what lacked with the sound design. And since the fi lm seamlessly switches between two very different eras, a wide range of musical instruments and a variety of sounds could have been incorporated to make it more dynamic. And lastly, do not follow the subtitles. They are misleading and incomplete. This adds to another point: those who fi nd it diffi cult to follow Urdu in its purest form might need some help from elders. Muse Whether you give credit to her makeup artist or to her natural looks, Iman Ali has proved that she is an absolute stunner. Her on-screen persona coupled with the lilted dialogue delivery is bound to inspire. Even when her dance moves weren’ t as smooth as that of her fellow dancer, Iman’ s role as a courtesan has a lot more depth to it; her eyes speak of the dilemma of the woman who stands at the a crossroad of what she wants and what is expected of her. Between playing a woman who is so powerful that she can make or break a poet to playing a girl who has no will of her own, Iman has proved that, at the moment, she is the only complete package in Pakistani cinema. Music Music is one area where most Pakistani fi lms have lacked in recent times. However, with Mah-e-Mir, both Shahi Hasan and Ahmad Jahanzaib have delivered one of the fi nest music albums of late. The songs not only stay true to the story but also add character to the fi lm. Rajab Ali Khan of Azal fame gives a fresh take on Mir’ s Yeh Dhoan Sa and his husky voice and acoustic arrangement make for a treat. On the other hand, Piya Dekhan Ko by Shafqat Amamant Ali is a personal favourite for it brings back the Shafqat of the Fuzon days; a Shafqat who could sing as well with the harmonium as he could with a rock band. Shahi has come out of the closet in style and the grandeur of Piya Dekhan Ko will surely silence most of his critics. Verdict: Watch the fi lm with your friends and family. It is worth your money and initiates a constructive discourse
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