In all the years that I have known him, Ali Kazmi has always come across as an optimist. He is also fiercely passionate about his career, which yo-yos from acting to writing to directing, from stage to TV to cinema to YouTube, and from Canada to Pakistan. In a nutshell, these two traits have been instrumental in shaping his career and steering him to where he is now.

But where is Ali Kazmi?

Physically, he is sitting right across from me, in a crowded café in Karachi. He flew down from Canada some months ago, to promote his just-released movie Umro Ayyar and, then, he extended his trip because he wanted to celebrate his father, actor Rahat Kazmi’s 80th birthday with him. Now, with just a few days left before he flies back, he is meeting me for this interview.

Professionally, Ali’s whereabouts extend beyond Pakistan most of the time. Yes, occasionally he surfaces on the big screen in a Pakistani film. Given the state of local cinema, more often than not, these movies aren’t exceptional, and nor is Ali’s role in them. Luckily, his career isn’t reliant on merely the mumbling, fumbling efforts of our nascent film industry.

A considerable chunk of his repertoire of work now consists of international projects. He’s directed, hosted and acted in TV and film as well as theatre in Canada, where he lives now. He’s been nominated for awards and secured guest appearances in major Canadian TV dramas. He is also writing constantly, developing stories that may one day take the shape of a series or film. Two movies that he has worked in have been nominated for the Oscars.

The actor chose to go international years ago, to step out of the shadow of his illustrious parents, but it was a risky decision. So how has it worked out for him? Why does he keep coming back to Pakistan? And whose shoes is he trying to fill now?

“Anything interesting that you may notice people from diverse backgrounds achieving in North America, it is very likely that they have created the opportunity for it themselves,” Ali tells me. “Yes, we now live in a more inclusive world, where we are competing with all races and faces for lead roles but, still, to do something substantial, you have to be prepared to spearhead it yourself.”

He quotes Rumi. “‘What you seek is seeking you’. This quote started resonating with me once I had moved to Canada at age 25. I took a leap of faith, burnt all my boats back here in Pakistan and I was absolutely terrified. There were many times, as I struggled, tried to develop new things and waited for the right opportunities, that I wondered if I was even doing the right thing. That’s when this quote would hit me. You have to create your own destiny and manifest your future, and what you want in life, will find you.”

Is he happy now with where he is professionally?

“Yes, but there were many years when I studied hard and worked hard, did odd jobs and invested time into honing my skills so that I could get here,” he tells Icon. “I left Pakistan in 2008 and, suddenly, around 2011, TV channels expanded and I wondered if I had made the right decision in moving. My contemporaries’ careers were all soaring while I was still slow-cycling like a circus clown!

“In retrospect, even though my journey was slow and steady, I branched out into so many different paths. And sabar ka phal meetha hota hai [The fruit of patience is sweet].Never say never but, so far, money hasn’t had to be a driving force, pushing me to accept roles that don’t interest me.”

We come to one role that did interest him recently — the reason why Ali and I are essentially meeting today — Maaz, the angry, self-righteous, action hero in the movie Umro Ayyar. Usman Mukhtar may be playing the titular role in the movie but Ali’s Maaz shares a considerable amount of the spotlight with him. He throws a mean punch, kicks and snarls and is inclined towards yelling, ‘Ayyaro, Tayyar Ho’! [Ayyar, be ready].

The movie, though not remarkable, can be relegated to the crowded ‘good first effort’ category in Pakistani cinema. From Ali’s perspective, this was a role that put his acting chops to good use and he shone in it.

“I have always been a fan of Umro Ayyar. My father used to read out stories of him to me, in Urdu, when I was young,” says Ali. “I remember having a discussion with Azfar Jafri, the movie’s director, back in 2019. I was doing a cameo in Heer Maan Ja, which was also directed by him, and we started talking about how cool it would be for a Pakistani movie to celebrate our own superheroes. In 2020, I suddenly got a call from him and he asked me, ‘Do you remember what we talked about?’ I was immediately on board!”

Did he not want to play Umro Ayyar instead of Maaz, who may have plenty of meaty scenes but still isn’t the titular character? “Of course, the thought did cross my mind — how could it not?” he admits. “But when Azfar told me that Usman [Mukhtar] was going to be playing Umro Ayyar, I was fine. Usman is a great actor. We’re both filmmakers and comic lovers, and I knew that he would not be the sort to want to cut off the lines of the supporting cast just to have more screen time.

“Also, as Maaz, I got to play out some really interesting scenes. I had to train Umro Ayyar, taunt him and then, eventually, the underdog would rise against me. I give credit to this movie: it’s a proper ensemble piece.”

I interrupt Ali’s glowing commentary here — while Ali’s Maaz may have been a well-developed character, there were many others in the cast who were definitely under-utilised in the movie. He agrees.

“It’s a first-time effort and there were bound to be some teething issues. Both Usman and I were present during much of the scripting process and a lot of scenes and dialogues had to be snipped out so that the movie wouldn’t get overlong. There was also this conundrum regarding how complicated the story should be. Would the audience accept a convoluted plot or should it be simplified, but not too much? There is a science to creating a screenplay and sometimes you hit a home run, sometimes you don’t.”

Anything interesting that you may notice people from diverse backgrounds achieving in North America, it is very likely that they have created the opportunity for it themselves,” Ali tells me.

It was quite evident that the movie had been created as an origin story, with the possibility of a sequel to be released in the future. Is there going to be a sequel?

“I hope so,” says Ali. “There were teams brought in from around the world for cinematography, stunts and set design. Back in 2020, during the coronavirus pandemic, the Umro Ayyar team came up with an amazing studio in Islamabad — the upper floor was Ayyar’s lair with the stained glass and the statues, and the lower floor was dedicated to the Lakka’s.

“A lot of effort and expenditure has been invested into this movie and I hope that they come up with a sequel. At this point in Pakistan’s film industry, it’s important to keep experimenting and trying out different genres.

“For me, it has been wonderful how people that I have met randomly in malls, as well as people from the fraternity, have told me that they enjoyed the movie.”

And yet, Umro Ayyar did have its teething issues — something that Ali accepts. There have been other projects in the past where his efforts have not been noticed, simply because the movie tanked at the box office. With a burgeoning career in Canada, why does Ali still put his faith now and again into Pakistan’s perpetually ‘teething’ entertainment industry?

“I do it because I have hope,” he says matter-of-factly. “Pakistan is where I started off from. My home was like a film school, with all these people from the industry treating me like their own, and teaching me so much about their craft. My work in Pakistan gave me confidence and my initial standing as a performer.

“When I left here and enrolled in film school in Canada, barely any films were being made here. Now, there are, and I want to be part of the evolution of Pakistani entertainment.”

Does he also make sporadic returns to Pakistani screens so that he doesn’t go out of sight, out of mind and may just be considered for roles that will interest him? “Yes, I try to do so,” he agrees. “Having said that, I don’t agree to do just any role. Cinema has its appeal but, in the desi diaspora, dramas are particularly popular and, in the last three years, I have rejected so many dramas!”

These dramas, I guess out loud, must be relegating him to insipid roles of big brothers who have absolutely nothing to do in the story. He nods.

“I have no problem playing a brother as long as he has something to do in the story. The last TV drama I acted in was Jaal, back in 2019. I played Imran Ashraf’s brother and it was a lot of fun. I don’t have a problem with playing a supporting part, and whether it’s two minutes long or two hours long, it is my job as an actor to make the character memorable.”

I change tack to his career in Canada: Pakistani film may be struggling and TV dramas may be drowned in repetitive storylines, but has it been easier to land interesting acting roles abroad?

“You have to be ready to hustle,” Ali says. “I moved to Canada because I had already done so much in Pakistan — been the face of multiple brands, VJ-ed, hosted and acted in multiple dramas. And throughout, I had had this chip on my shoulder, that I didn’t want to be like my dad.

“Yes, my parents have been huge catalysts in furthering my career but I didn’t want to play the chocolate hero and have people say that I was ‘trying to be like Kazmi Sahib’. The Kazmis had never gone international and, so, that’s what I decided to do!”

He continues: “But shortly after I moved to Canada, 9/11 happened. It was difficult to get work. Also, back then, there weren’t enough roles available for brown people, especially lead roles. I did a lot of theatre plays and theatre is hard work, whether you’re the lead or guy number three in the cast. The money is also just alright.

“Later, as my family grew, I turned towards film and TV because I needed to earn more money and also build my career. In 2019, I acted in Funny Boy, a Deepa Mehta movie, and became very invested into method acting. It prompted me to go back to theatre.

“But then, the pandemic took over and there were times when I wondered whether I was destined to make it. I am an optimist, though. I realised that a lot of plays were being developed and there were readings taking place online via Zoom. I reached out to Canadian playwrights and artistic directors, the big ones and the small ones, and sent them my CV.”

Did it work? He grins. “100 percent! They scheduled meetings with me on Zoom, not really expecting too much but then they realised that I was theatre trained, could read Shakespeare and speak in multiple accents, and that I wasn’t just another brown boy. Since then, I have acted in five plays, back to back, all as the main lead.

“Last year, I was nominated in the Best Leading Performer category at the Dora Mavor Moore Awards, which is one of Canada’s longest standing awards recognising theatre as well as other performing arts. The category is not gender specific and, so, from over 300 productions, I was selected from amongst the male and female leads.

“There is more inclusivity now and, so, more roles are available to actors from diverse backgrounds in North America. The Black Lives Matter movement brought about a lot of changes. Things are definitely better now.”

For Ali, they certainly are. He tells me, “Right before I flew out to Karachi, I acted in one of Chekhov’s greatest plays, Uncle Vanya. Back in 2017, I had watched an adaptation of the same play in Urdu here in Pakistan, helmed by the National Academy of Performing Arts [Napa], directed by Zia Mohyeddin, with Talat Hussain playing Uncle Vanya and my father, Rahat Kazmi, playing Astrov. And now, here I was on this global stage, playing Astrov. I talked to my father on the phone after the show ended and he was so happy. For me, it was a full-circle moment.”

The path that Ali chose for himself all those years ago may have been a tricky one, but it has been a fulfilling one. I suggest to him that, perhaps, if he had stayed in Pakistan, he would never have been able to shed the shadow of his parents, Rahat and Sahira Kazmi, two of the country’s most celebrated personalities.

“Yes, my parents have a legacy and I felt that it was my responsibility to take it forward, rather than just always be compared to them,” he says. “I wanted to do more. I can’t walk in my parents’ great shoes because they can’t be filled. So I have chosen to sew my own shoes, walk my own path, make my own way.”

They’re some very fine shoes.

Published in Dawn, ICON, July 14th, 2024