The Lux Style Awards were finally going to have a grand ceremony this year, brushing away the cobwebs gathered during the coronavirus pandemic, rolling out a red carpet without fretting over social distancing and bringing on song, dance, humour and awards announcements in a live show.

The event, which took place recently in Lahore, was certainly free from the shackles imposed by the coronavirus. But it was far less grand than one expects the LSAs to be.

Perhaps the LSAs’ biggest blunder was to unabashedly announce that this was the awards’ 21st year in Pakistan. Completing 21 years in the business of Pakistani entertainment, sidestepping political upheavals, economic strife and security hazards, is a commendable achievement. However, it was this very number that balefully nudged at you as the ceremony fumbled and stumbled and the audience clapped weakly.

To be fair, there were enjoyable spurts to this year’s LSA show. The performances were dazzling, particularly Shehzad Roy and Wahab Bugti starting off the show by singing the national anthem together, Asim Azhar singing and dancing like a pro to his hit Habibi and Ali Zafar making a return to the LSA after a very long sabbatical, dancing to his recent folk songs for the finale, along with Urooj Fatima, Abid Brohi, Gul Panra and Shahkar.

The 21st Lux Style Awards are likely to make for an entertaining watch on TV… unless you notice one unfortunate flaw in particular: the lack of celebrity attendance

Amar Khan, Kinza Hashmi, Urwa Hocane and Osman Khalid Butt paid tribute to Nazia Hassan with two very groovy dance numbers. Amar Khan and Osman Khalid Butt are particularly a treat to watch; there’s no hesitation as they move fluidly to the music and they’re clearly enjoying doing it.

Humaima Malik, on the other hand, could have polished up some of her jhatkas in her ode to Anjuman. Overall, though, the choreography, the background dancers, the moves and the grooves are all testament to how our celebrities are becoming more adept at performing on stage.

Adding effect was the glittering kaleidoscopia wielded by designer Nomi Ansari as well as Munib Nawaz for the national anthem, and Rastah for Asim Azhar’s performance. The background, a basic black bordered by lit-up golden columns, came alive with digital animations and graphics during the songs and dance. It made one click on the cellphone camera and post multiple videos on Instagram — I am sure that it’s all going to look very glitzy on TV.

In fact, the LSAs, overall, are likely to make for an entertaining watch. Unless you notice one unfortunate flaw in particular: the lack of celebrity attendance.

It wasn’t as if the ceremony wasn’t star-studded. There was a varied mix of entertainment’s young and old on the red carpet and they helped build up anticipation for the event that followed. It was notable though that the majority of celebrities present were those who had been paid to be part of the show. They were all going to be performing or hosting on stage, which is why one saw them on the red carpet.

Aside from this small smattering, even many who had been nominated did not turn up. The music and fashion lot were still present, but the actors, directors and producers with huge fan followings evidently skipped out, shrugging away their nominations and the chance to give a winning speech, should the trophy come their way.

Where was nominee Sajal Aly, for instance, only seen a few days ago at the Filmfare Middle East Achievers Night in Dubai? Where were other nominees, such as Bilal Abbas Khan, Yumna Zaidi, Iqra Aziz, Kubra Khan, Mahira Khan, Fizza Ali Meerza and Nabeel Qureshi, among others?

Speaking to some of the nominees after the awards, it turned out that some had been travelling, others were not well or committed elsewhere. One nominee pointed out that they had been informed of their nomination and invited to the awards merely a week before the ceremony and there wasn’t enough time to change plans and catch a flight to Lahore.

Another nominee said that she couldn’t be bothered, pointing out that some of the nominations seemed unfair and that she had lost faith in the LSAs’ credibility. This comment, more than anything else, reflects negatively upon the LSAs. LSA nominations have long been highly coveted in fashion and entertainment circles and winning the award has been considered an honour.

Over the years, though, the whispers of discontent have grown louder and, this year, they rang out loud and clear when, time and again, host Fahad Mustafa asked someone from the audience to collect an award on someone else’s behalf.

Also, over the past two decades, LSA nominations have always been announced at least a week before the ceremony. Why was this year’s listing released just two days before the ceremony? Was it because the organisation did not want to weather the dissection and analysis that has always followed nominations’ announcements?

Was it because Feroze Khan, in the midst of a domestic abuse controversy right now, had been nominated in the Best Actor Viewers’ Choice category? Feroze went on to win, leading to an inevitable heated debate that continues on social media.

There are other concerns. Why had certain major projects, actors, musicians and designers been ignored in the nominations altogether? Why were only two options available in the ‘Fashion Style Icon’ category? Why had male and female models been bunched into a single category?

The androgynous nature of international fashion has blurred the lines between male and female apparel but, in Pakistan, the women still wear three piece lawn and lehngas and the men, sherwanis and suits. How could these two very disparate sartorial categories be lumped together? Why were the fashion categories sized down so visibly?

The questions go on and on.

On the upside, celebrities have definitely upped their style game. The lehngas and ghararas that would once frequent the red carpet were gone and there were even very few ‘goans’ — the desi tackier version of the Anglicised gown. Instead, one saw saris, smart pant-suits, long flowing kameezes and capes.

The men wore suits and jackets which varied from austere classics to sequined numbers, as well as a few spurts of fluorescent, courtesy smart-casual hit brand Rastah. There may have been fewer celebrities in number but they were generally a well-dressed lot, something that one had thought could never be possible.

Tabish Hashmi, the host and comedian, who started off as a social media sensation and has now become an all-out hit, delivered some sharp one-liners. He would have perhaps been funnier if there were more people in the audience he could tease. Roaming through the front rows in the segment, Tabish could only quip with the celebrities present and, since there weren’t that many of them, he had a tough job.

The hosts for the ceremony moved the conversation along seamlessly. Fahad Mustafa, particularly, is always fun to see on stage. He adds his quintessential cocky humour into the script and more than the rehearsed lines, you end up smirking at the spontaneous jibes that you know are going to get cut off when the show airs on TV! In retrospect, there is quite a bit that’s likely to get edited out.

It was all good enough, perhaps, but not really the kind of show you would expect from a ceremony which is now in its 21st year.

The LSAs may have had planned the show and the performances very well, but the organisers faltered in the planning that was needed beforehand. Guests need to be invited several weeks prior to the show so that they can plan their schedules and wardrobes accordingly. Nominations need to be announced in a timely way in order to negate confusion and build anticipation.

There is nothing much that the LSAs can do about the celebrities who question the awards’ credibility and refuse to come unless they are paid to do so. The ceremony has long been a major cogwheel taking Pakistani entertainment and fashion forwards. It has applauded talent and delivered performances that remain memorable. There are homes where LSA trophies are displayed proudly on shelves by winners.

And yet, it seems as if some of the allure of that coveted trophy is waning. With huge social media followings on their side, many celebrities now feel that they don’t need validation through an award or even a favourable review or interview. Perhaps this is one major reason why they feel that they need to get paid in order to make an appearance at any show, even one as prestigious as the LSAs.

It’s a changing world. Starry tantrums and demands aren’t what they used to be 21 years ago, when the LSAs were first conceptualised. The audience also isn’t what it used to be; it is now much less naïve and more adept at pointing out flaws.

Still, even if the LSAs can’t do anything about bloated celebrity egos and social media controversies, the show can at least try to be better organised. There are so many of us who still want to sit in the audience and cheer for the show, who want to root for particular nominees, who want to analyse the nominations at length, who still believe in the LSAs.

It seems that the LSAs need to believe in themselves a little bit more.

Published in Dawn, ICON, December 4th, 2022