As Pakistan’s cinemas brace for Eidul Fitr, the holiest season for box-office bonanzas, a peculiar scene is set to unfold. Over 16 films — The Martial Artist, Kabeer, Ishq-i-Lahore, Qulfee, Lambi Judai, Teri Meri Kahaniyaan, Snow White, A Minecraft Movie, The Bitter Taste, Almarhum, Anak Kunti, Locked, Sardaarji 2, Carry On Jatta 3, Tenu Ghori Kinney Charaaya, Mithde — are set to crowd the marquees.

If the number sounds preposterous, grab on to your hat: by the time the audience reaches the cinema ticket counter, the total number may likely jump up to 21 or 24 films, including The Legend of Maula Jatt — which never left cinemas since its release in 2022 — and the re-releases of Jawani Phir Nahin Aani (JPNA), its sequel JPNA 2, Punjab Nahin Jaungi (PNJ) and Tich Button.

Nearly half, if not more, are either reheated titles or releases of films that have come and gone from theatres the world over, months — even years — ago.

Take Sardaarji 2 starring Diljit Dosangh for example, which came out all the way back in 2016. In fact, its follow-up, Sardaarji 3 — which adds Hania Aamir to the cast — is slated for release this coming summer.

Sixteen and perhaps as high as 24 films will be released in the cinemas this Eidul Fitr. But aside from a handful, most will be re-heated, re-releases of blockbusters that have already made their money or those that have already failed before. Most in the industry are resigned to another disastrous performance at the Eid box office…

Amid the noise, a handful of new Pakistani films — Qulfee, Kabeer, Lambi Judai, Ishq-i-Lahore and actor-turned-filmmaker Shaz Khan’s MMA drama The Martial Artist — will fight for pockets of oxygen, their creators questioning, with resigned tones, whether the industry’s reliance on nostalgia and foreign content is suffocating cinema’s future.

The Eid rush, traditionally a launchpad for new films — and of late, teeming with creative bankruptcy — has instead become a graveyard for originality. Industry movers and shakers warn the overcrowding is not only a desperate effort to counterbalance Pakistani cinema’s near-perpetual state of creative stagnation, but also an effort to ward off the imminent death Pakistan’s fledgling film industry is facing. Ironically, that may be hastened if audiences turn their backs on the movies this festive season.

Earlier this month, a report on the cinema trade site EPK listed 40-odd screens closing across Pakistan (the actual number is nearly 50). The root cause, as discussed in Icon time and again, has less to do with rising ticket prices (the ticket prices have hardly gone up since Covid-19, despite the headache-inducing rise of inflation) but more to do with rapid OTT releases of international films, the ban on Bollywood titles and the pitiable quality of the handful of films we produce.

Distributors, wary of financial risks, therefore, are choosing to flood cinema screens with tried and tested crowd-pleasers, irrespective of their aired-to-death status on television, or availability on Torrent or other illegal streaming sites.

This new trend of re-releases primarily comes from India — our go-to source for inspiration — where cinemas are also reeling in a losing war against OTT and television.

The practice of re-releases globally, though, is not new either. Remastered editions of films often get a shot in the cinemas, to make a quick buck before their actual release on DVDs and BluRays. In recent months though, re-releases have surged globally (just take a gander at the US and UK box-office listings).

To cash in on this trend, The Legend of Maula Jatt is set to make a wide re-release on 29 screens in the UK from March 28. Along with Carry On Jatta 3, a 35 crore rupee-grosser (if one believes sources) that is releasing in the form of a director’s cut, the titles are expected to hold their own in Pakistan, one assumes. The fate of Teri Meri Kahaniyaan may be more up in the air.

Any business for the high-grossing re-releases — and that includes the Humayun Saeed lot — though, is a top-up for them. At the centre of the storm, however, are producers such as Mashood Qadri, the producer of Saawan and Aar Paar, who is no stranger to domestic box-office failure.

Aar Paar, an Eidul Azha release from 2023, bombed hard but Saawan, although not striking box-office gold in Pakistan, did make it to Netflix, since it was an American production (Qadri is a renal specialist MD from Arizona).

Qadri’s listing for this Eid, Qulfee, starring Moammar Rana, Babar Ali, Shehroz Sabzwari, Javed Sheikh and Shamyl Khan, has had a long, tumultuous production and suffered from reworks in the edit, reshoots and a constantly ballooning budget. Still, it is a new Pakistani release that, as far as arguments go, should get a fighting chance in the Eid rush.

“It is a rat race,” Qadri says, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “People decide if the shows are full with Qulfee or any other ABCD film.”

Qadri’s film, a light-hearted farce designed to unify audiences, was crafted with what he calls a “no compromise” ethos when it comes to quality. The film offers “entertainment, entertainment, entertainment”, and has characters representing all the four provinces of Pakistan. “I took that decision deliberately, as the maker of the film, in a bid to unify the nation,” he says.

But the financial toll has been crushing. “Whatever I’ve put in, I’ve already lost 75 percent of it. Perhaps I am the only producer left from a group of nine people who used to talk about supporting each other. I am left alone, high and dry,” he sighs.

Amid the gloom, faint glimmers of hope persist for Qadri as he clings to faith in Qulfee’s festive appeal. “Luckily, we are touching the festive season. That will help us outclass other movies.”

Director Neha Laaj, whose mid-budget drama Kabeer is among Eid’s underdogs, voices the despair of many. “We don’t have screens. How can a film even dream of doing good business here?” she says. Her resignation, stemming from her previous work as a producer for Daadal and Chaudhry, is palpable.

“Pakistani cinema’s conditions cannot be changed by one film,” she says. “If and when the industry stands up, we’ll end up being one of the lucky ones. If not, we’ll seek greener pastures elsewhere.”

In the past, the excess release crisis would have ignited a blame game. Producers would have accused exhibitors of stifling originality; exhibitors would fault filmmakers for poor quality (which they still do); distributors meanwhile, would be trying to secure as many screens as possible. But the blame game, this time round, is non-existent — a sign of how resigned everyone is to the state of affairs.

Saleem Daad, a veteran cinematographer-turned-director, argues for collective responsibility, explaining why the blame game won’t fix things. “Producers and distributors aren’t to blame. Everyone pushes for Eid releases and ends up with losses. The industry needs a collective stand. No more stars, egos and films fighting for screen space.”

Daad was the director, and one-part of the driving force behind Qulfee. Today, his listing as an ‘on-set director’ (a new term, if ever there were one), is a blink-and-miss line in the credit block of the trailers.

According to what little hype all new films are generating, Shaz Khan’s soul-searching indie MMA drama The Martial Artist, co-starring Sanam Saeed and Faran Tahir, is widely regarded to win audience favour — however, no one is counting on it to make tens of crores.

The film, an American production, was originally set to have been released worldwide earlier in the year, but had been delayed due to the Los Angeles wildfires. To Khan, making money in Pakistan’s chaotic release landscape may well be an afterthought.

“Pakistan isn’t our only market — so its [performance here is] not make-or-break,” he says. “The audience will accept it, or they won’t. I am at peace with what we’ve made.”

His film, a cross-cultural exploration of ambition and identity, has already found acclaim and resonance overseas. It debuted at the London-Pakistani Film Festival (LPFF 2024) back in October as the closing night feature.

“It’s a story about spiritual awakening — of a boy becoming a man. It’s a familiar story told in a fresh, original way, with a modern fusion of Eastern and Western culture, and mixed martial arts action that’s really raw and reflects how modern MMA is being done.”

Other than that, Khan also wanted to showcase Pakistan in a way that reflected how he felt about the country, he says. “Cinema is the only way to reflect something you can’t say in words.”

For Khan, the film’s global success is validation enough. “The foreign audience connected with it. Here? It is what it is!”

Yet Khan’s detachment underscores a grim truth: many creators of tentpole films, including those who make blockbusters in Pakistan, now view international audiences as their primary market, nearly sidelining Pakistani cinemas altogether.

The fight Qadri, Laaj, Khan and their compatriots face is to get prime timing shows during the four-day Eid holidays (the actual holidays start earlier and continue for six days).

The main problem, veteran exhibitor Nadeem Mandviwalla argues, is not the exhibitors’ pragmatism but the dismal quality of new films.

“If your film is nothing, then giving it shows or not doesn’t make a difference. Do you think cinema owners would re-run old films if new ones [had meat on the bones]?” The problem, he says, is that we are devoid of good films.

Distributor Irfan Malik seconds the thought and explains the calculus: “Exhibitors are smart, intelligent people. They can assess whether a film can do well right now. The assessment [for most new films from Pakistan] has not been good. Exhibitors, therefore, believe that the films will not make money. The guaranteed ticket sales on Eid [based on audience turnout expectations] cannot be put to jeopardy, so a demand has been created for tried and tested films by exhibitors themselves.”

Mandviwalla, whose theatres once included Karachi’s iconic Nishat Cinema and ME Cinemas at the Atrium Mall — one burned down during protests, the other shuttered because of rising running costs and audience’s reluctance to shell out money to see duds — and a ME Cinema site at Centaurus Mall, Islamabad — both accepts and dismisses the Eid rush and its perception as a desperate gambit.

“The fact is that everyone wants a piece of the pie. Eid has extraordinary footfall and the idea persists that one can, and will only, make money only during those [few] days. But the issue is: you don’t have good films,” he reiterates.

“Everyone,” he surmises, “is out to push whatever title one can get their hands on, into the fray, hoping their fares will win in a fight of the fittest.”

Mandviwalla, however, challenges exhibitors to replicate the trend during Eidul Azha, when stronger titles traditionally debut. “Try pulling off a stunt like this on Eidul Azha because it has good films. Cinema will not continue this trend.”

For context, better titles, such as the Humayun Saeed-Mahira Khan expected blockbuster Love Guru directed by Nadeem Baig, the Rafay Rashidi-directed, Faysal Quraishi and Sonya Hussyn-starrer Deemak and — perhaps, if it gets completed on time — Mango Jatt, another Faysal Quraishi starrer, this time with actor-producer Hareem Farooq and director Abu Aleeha, are set for release on Eidul Azha.

The Imran Malik-directed Luv Di Saun, starring Farhan Saeed, will likely be pushed out to later in the year, as ARY Films likely will not pit their own films against each other (both titles with different spellings of ‘Love’ — Luv Di Saun and Love Guru belong to the same studio).

One veteran and respected player in the business, Satish Anand, and his company Eveready Pictures, is, however, bowing out of this mad race entirely.

For the past few months, Eveready — Pakistan’s first distribution company and a partner-distributor of Hum Film’s Bin Roye, Verna, as well as Na Maloom Afraad, Actor-in-Law, Quaid-i-Azam Zindabad and Parday Mein Rehnay Do, amongst a slew of other blockbusters — has put a cork in their film business.

“Seeing Pakistani cinemas’ condition, Eveready has now pulled back from all cinema activities. The company will return when the business picks up,” he says.

“Cinema owners are more intelligent than you and I. They know what films they need to put up,” Anand asserts, siding with Mandviwalla and Malik, yet pointing out the futility of the desperate rush. He highlights the pre-Eid closure of Lahore’s Gulistan Cinema as a damning omen.

“Arif Khan, of the iconic Gulistan Cinema, despite knowing that Eid is just round the corner, has still shut down his business — so what does that mean? Any other man would have said ‘I’ll make something from Eid and then shutter my business.’ He’s not even entertaining the thought!”

The financial precarity of Pakistan’s cinema industry is staggering. With fewer than 90 screens for 240 million people, the economics are brutal.

“We’re a small market, and we have to be very careful with whatever money is going into production right now,” says Irfan Malik. “Films are no one’s fiefdom. Anyone can make films, but the young filmmakers should take guidance from established filmmakers.”

Malik — the son of veteran filmmaker Pervez Malik — is no stranger to releasing Pakistani blockbusters, and hates to say ‘No’ to filmmakers. “But as a distributor, I excuse myself from distributing films that are not fit for cinema release.”

It is a big reason why he is only releasing films that have already made a killing at the box-office. The big question though is: would the audience really come in droves?

“Audiences know the difference,” says Mandviwalla. “We scream and create a hullabaloo about how we can con the audience, but we never have been able to do that.”

Chances are high that the audience’s astuteness will reign supreme once again.

Published in Dawn, ICON, March 30, 2025