Fade to black?

The struggle to rewind Pakistan's cinema legacy

KARACHI:

In the shadow of cinema-converted plazas and fading marquees, a nascent, dual-pronged effort is emerging from the corridors of power, aiming to rekindle the lights of Pakistan's long-dormant film industry.

From federal incentives to Sindh provincial pledges of support, a narrative of revival is being scripted, though it faces a plot thickened by decades of neglect. The push was underscored in Islamabad, where Federal Minister for Information and Broadcasting Attaullah Tarar chaired a review meeting, vowing "full support" and "concrete measures" to promote quality film production.

The meeting focused on two pivotal projects: the nearing-completion Central Monitoring Unit, a modern facility intended to aid narrative-building and content analysis for both public and private sectors, and the National Centre of Films (NCF).

The NCF, as the custodian of the National Film Policy 2018, is tasked with a Herculean mission: to coordinate a fragmented industry, facilitate international co-productions, and implement a suite of financial incentives.

These incentives, as outlined, include tax relief on equipment, cinema operations, and feature film production, alongside tax credits linked to corporate social responsibility under a proposed Film and Drama Finance Fund.

The ministry also reported signing several international memoranda of understanding (MoUs) to foster content exchange and joint productions—a clear bid to integrate Pakistani cinema into the global cinematic landscape.

This federal vision for a structured, incentive-driven future stands in poignant contrast to the stark reality on the ground, particularly in the country's former cinematic heart. Karachi, which once boasted over 150 theatres from Nazimabad to Napier Road, now struggles to keep a dozen screens illuminated.

The decline, as chronicled by industry observers, is a tale of policy paralysis post-18th Amendment, where provincial responsibility never translated into meaningful engagement.

Cinema owners speak of devastating commercial pressures—skyrocketing electricity bills, fragmentation of provincial censor boards stifling nationwide releases, and the lure of converting dilapidated, loss-making theatres into lucrative commercial plazas.

Landmarks like the Prince Cinema, set ablaze in 2012 and never rebuilt, or the once-vibrant Capri, stand as tombstones for a cultural era. "The story of Karachi's cinemas is ultimately one of cultural erosion through neglect," one analysis notes, "where absence of policy, unchecked commercialisation and rising operational costs quietly dismantled an institution that once united the city after dark."

It is against this bleak backdrop that the Sindh government's recent gestures gain significance. Senior Minister Sharjeel Inam Memon, during a visit to the Karachi Film School—hailed as the country's sole one-year filmmaking diploma institution—struck a markedly different tone, blending cultural nationalism with promises of practical support.

Criticising Indian cinema's "fabricated" portrayals of Pakistan, Memon asserted the country's superior talent and called for creating "content so compelling that even our neighbouring country cannot ignore it."

His concerns were locally grounded: "Cinemas used to exist in every city, but now most have been converted into plazas. People need entertainment, but quality content has disappeared."

Promising action, he assured full support for the young generation, pledging to discuss a 50% fee reduction for film school students and funding for good scripts at festivals.

He also cited the government-produced film 'Mera Layari' as an example of positive storytelling and expressed hope that students would one day produce Oscar-winning work.

Yet, between the federal government's broad policy frameworks and the provincial government's aspirational rhetoric lies a vast implementation gap. Cinema owners in Sindh have long decried the lack of formal consultation or tangible incentives to modernise ageing theatres.

The call for dedicated film institutes in Lahore, Balochistan, and Hyderabad, while laudable, rings hollow to exhibitors who have watched their businesses vanish without a lifeline.

The challenge is multifaceted: it requires not just producing quality films but also reviving the decimated distribution and exhibition infrastructure needed to showcase them.

The federal tax incentives must translate into accessible, streamlined processes for filmmakers. Provincial governments must move beyond rhetoric to provide direct relief—perhaps through subsidised utilities for cinemas or grants for digital conversion—to halt the haemorrhage of screens.

The concurrent announcements from Islamabad and Karachi suggest a rare, if still tentative, alignment of political will towards cinematic revival. One offers a top-down strategy of structure and incentives; the other, a bottom-up vision of nurturing talent and storytelling.

Their success, however, will be measured not in meetings or MoUs, but in whether the flickering images on the Karachi Film School's screens can once again find a home in grand, crowded halls across the city's neighbourhoods.

The final scene of this revival story remains unwritten. It hinges on whether these parallel efforts can converge into a coherent, sustained action plan that addresses both creation and exhibition—bridging the chasm between the promise of a national film centre and the silent, cavernous emptiness of what was once Prince Cinema.

The curtain may be rising on a new act for Pakistani cinema, but the audience is still waiting for the show to truly begin.

(WITH INPUT FROM OUR ISLAMABAD CORRESPONDENT)