Review: 'Aik Hai Nigar' is a shallow take on a complex journey

A lack of conflict and one-dimensional characters makes this Mahira Khan-starrer a boring watch

When it comes to biopics, there’s a reason they are lapped up by critics and audiences alike. With half the work already done, all it takes is a little dramatisation and smart casting, as well as the viewer-favourite label of ‘based on true events’ for it to ride a successful wave into the pantheon of critically-acclaimed, well-received films. Aik Hai Nigar fails on both former accounts, with the latter being all the audience has left to cling on to in a long-drawn, one-dimensional and, in rather simple words, very boring telefilm.

Based on the life of Lieutenant General Nigar Johar, the only woman to ever have received the rank in the history of the Pakistan army, Aik Hai Nigar, written by Umera Ahmed and directed by Adnan Sarwar, offers a surface-level viewing of Nigar’s journey, the kind that could easily be gleaned from a Wikipedia article on the figure. Starring Pakistan’s doe-eyed sweetheart Mahira Khan as an unconvincing Nigar and Bilal Ashraf as her late husband Johar, the film lacks severely in the narrative department, which couldn’t have been salvaged by the cast even if they tried (which, just so it’s clear, they didn’t).

Aik Hai Nigar opens with a sequence following the life of a young Nigar in school and at home. It is in this opening sequence that the film starts to fall apart. Feeling oddly reminiscent of television commercials harping on female empowerment to sell everything from sanitary napkins to laundry detergent, the sequence feels highly artificial. The filmmakers equate exposition with clearly stating every point they are trying to make in the dialogue, due to which any semblance of an organic narrative progression or character development pretty much disappears.

Stylistically speaking, Aik Hai Nigar feels like a solid B+ student film. The opening credits roll out in rather jarring Papyrus font, a staple of every early-2000s kid’s fifth grade PowerPoint presentation, and very out of place in a 2021 film on the armed forces. To say there was an expectation for the end credits to show up in Comic Sans would not necessarily be an overstatement. In the part of the film where Nigar convinces her father to enrol in medical school, the scene cuts abruptly to the next in complete silence, leaving the sloppy editing of the film on full display. The filmmakers would have been better off using an animated PowerPoint transition and elevator music instead.

However, perhaps the film’s greatest pitfall is its utter lack of conflict, which, given the subject matter of gender-based struggles, feels almost laughable. Nigar breezes through any and every hurdle placed in her path, and not as a result of perseverance or intellect, but simply because the opposing forces disappear as soon as they manifest.

The character’s father goes from opposing her decision to enrol in medical school to giving her his blessing in less than two minutes. When she delivers the news of her promotion to her husband, he seems momentarily taken aback, only for the scene to cut to a surprise party for Nigar in celebration of her achievement. Even the discussion between members of the armed forces leading to Nigar’s eventual promotion to the designation of Lieutenant General, where the fact that she is a woman is presented as a reason for her disqualification, is quickly resolved without the slightest semblance of conflict. The space for delving deeper into the character’s journey, both inner and outer, as well as her relationships with those closest to her, is quickly retracted, leaving the narrative hollow, and for that matter, probably inaccurate.

Most of the supporting actors perform with a kind of robotic detachment that feels almost unnerving to watch, with the exception of the somewhat tender portrayal by Sohail Sameer of Nigar’s father. While the one-dimensionality of the rest of the side characters, such as Nigar’s brother, played by Khushhal Khan and the rest of her co-workers and family members can be ignored at some level, it is difficult to sideline the cardboard cutout nature of the couple at the heart of the film. Bilal Ashraf’s Johar is the perfect husband, and that is all he is. The character is fully devoid of any negative emotion, leaving him with a lack of depth and believability.

The absence of layered characters leaves the film with a preachy quality to it, with the two main characters being elevated to the faultless level of saints. Mahira’s Nigar thinks and does no wrong. So strong is the insistence of her infallibility that she undergoes absolutely no character development, despite any and all hardships. There is no anger or lasting grief after the character gets the news of her family’s passing in a car accident, and there’s not a spec of self-doubt in the entire 100 minutes of the film. The young Nigar being told to stand tall in school is the exact same Nigar that becomes Surgeon General at the end of the film. Nothing changes. The lip service to the struggle in the script is not enough, with the filmmakers failing to understand that even a positive character can have emotional depth.

Given that Mahira has built a career off of playing demure and docile women, her portrayal of Nigar, a supposed polar opposite of the actor’s usual roles, feels inauthentic. Not only are the physical attributes of Nigar and Mahira in stark contrast, the actor’s performance feels tinged by the damsel in distress she has become synonymous with over the years. The issue also lies in Mahira’s inability, as observed from her performances, to play different characters. Her cookie-cutter portrayals stay consistent, despite who she’s asked to play. Take away the title and uniform, both of which come with a set of pre-conceived associations, and there seem to be almost no distinguishing features left between Humsafar’s Khirad and the character of Nigar.

If there’s one thing Aik Hai Nigar makes crystal clear, it’s that the issue does not lie in a lack of stories to tell, but in the artistic prowess of the people who choose to tell them. Nigar’s story had the potential to be dealt with in a way that laid bare structural inequalities and allowed for a glimpse into the emotions of a woman faced with the age-old conflict between tradition and aspiration. The filmmakers instead give you an almost mythically pure depiction of a figure that remains very much human.