Amongst the People

AUGUST 1997 - If you want to lose the last remnants of hope for this country, go and see a film at any cinema house anywhere and you will surely come away more convinced than ever before that we are done for. If you are looking at a microcosm level at what ails us (and plenty ails us as anyone will tell you), a cinema house seems to be the perfect place to experience modern day Pakistan and a quick slide into deep depression.

Once a year, the fool in me ventures out and I find myself vending my way to one of the city’s many ‘air-condition’ cinemas to drink deep of the block buster that’s been pulling in massive crowds for the last so many ‘window-breaking’ weeks. So it was last week with Dante’s Peak at one of Lahore’s ‘better’ viewing houses. Having armed myself foolishly with some friends and there families of the other gender, we were the receipients of some of the most lascivious looks the human animal is capable of creating. Somehow we made it to the Gallery, from the chaotic car park where there was more chaos than cars, to the walk through crowds of men, more men and more men. Till we reached the top floor, where aromas from the public urinals wafted across making a heady and explosive mixture with the abundance of sweat, we were subjected to severe head to toe scrutiny from a throng of young and able bodied men who seemed obsessed with the sight of the opposite gender, as if this species had all but vanished from the face of the earth and was making one last appearance. There were more x-rays going here than all the labs in the country.

Memory plays cruel tricks. The elegant Dress Circle of earlier years seems to have vanished without a trace leaving only hazy images that are hard to reconcile with present day realities. While we gingerly side stepped on-coming male bodies in various stages of disrobing (summer heat taking its toll), we were able to make it to the magic door of the Dress Circle, one of this decade’s most misleading terms. When we entered the Hall, we were thrown back with the stench of a building that hadn’t seen the backside of fresh air for months altogether. Stale air, heavy and pungent with cigarette smoke hung like a shroud. Almost all the rickety, metal-to-metal chairs were occupied by an army of males wearing precious little clothing which too was permanently in a state of removal. Shalwars wet with sweat were rolled up to whatever height they could go without causing a public disturbance. Kameezes had been shed long ago and vests were on exhibition. With chappals tossed aside, bare legs straddled the backs of the chairs as hundreds of feet were raised heavenwards. The scent of so many toes wriggling about added to the sweat, the smoke and the stale air was sufficient to send most of us on a trip.

Between 3.45 pm when the ‘show’ started till Pierce Brosnan came on screen, were non-stop trailers of future attractions. While these drew great response from the almost all-male assembly, nothing could prepare anyone for the tremendous ovation that greeted ‘Dream Girl’ and ‘Yes Boss.’ The sight of Meera gyrating and thrusting her pelvic sectors leaving nothing to chance drew wild catcalls from her fans who were with her in the spirit, and if you will pardon the word, flesh as well. Her every shake brought out hoarse and guttural cries from the fans who made their intentions very, very clear. This was interactive cinema at its best and worst. Every vulgar move was met with a passionate response from the people. When eventually the main film began, but not before there was a long intermission which carried on well after it was over, there was general silence since mercifully this was an action-packed affair. However, the moment Linda Hamilton made a move towards Mr Brosnan, the hall erupted with smacking sounds as hundreds of lips joined forces with her intentioned move. Even before the film was over, the crowds were up on their feet rushing out, going nowhere. The hall was empty even before the titles were finished. Outside, there was the usual chaos with taxis, cars, rickshaws, cycles and people all pushing one another to get out or in first.

At about Rs 30 a show, the cinema seems to be within reach of everyone. But while it is nice to see so many people going to the movies, there is simply no way any decent folk or those with families can endure the experience without feeling frustration, embarrassment and aggravation. There is not even a trace of order, cleanliness or decency within miles of any cinema house. The carpets which once adorned the halls have melted into the floors, stained with spit, beetle juice, cokes, teas and food. The air conditioning is a con job and the No Smoking sign a joke. There is no system of any kind and like everywhere else, we have descended to the lowest level of vulgar and despicable public behaviour. Looking at the milling crowds, it is only possible to feel that we are neither going anywhere nor will things ever get better. Asian Tiger ? The Paris of the East ? Please. Don’t do this.