Crime show re-enactments: Extra Ordinary
For hundreds of extras in crime show re-enactments craze to come on TV means forming underbelly of the industry.
For hundreds of extras in crime show re-enactments the craze to come on TV means forming the underbelly of the industry. Photo By Mohammad Kashif (Kt)
Someone yells for the kidnappers to come up. A scrawny gawker is pushed aside. Arooj starts walking through the field of elephant grass in her limp lawn suit and black leggings. Three men leap out. One of them grabs her and yanks her hair. Another hoists her up. A donkey cart trundles by with a farmer and his wife who curiously look at the scene unfolding. Someone snickers that maybe that should be the getaway car.
The team of about ten people has been standing in the heat in Bagh-e-Korangi since 2pm, shooting the re-enactment of a kidnapping scene for one of the major channels. The mock kidnapping will add flavour to one of its crime shows. None of the actors are really paid. They’re just doing it because they want to be on TV.
“They come from everywhere: far-flung areas of Karachi such as Malir, Landhi etc. Basically they are college-going students, government employees or unemployed people,” explains Abdul Karim Yousuf, who is a producer with Azaad film production. “They don’t have any ego issues so that is positive. But sometimes it is difficult to explain scenes to them as they are not trained.”
These actors barely have any formal education. They are “mun kholay bhand types” (open your mouth and make a mess) as the cameraman describes them — actors who are not even required to deliver dialogue, but fill in as the crowd for a washing powder ad or put bums on seats for a morning show audience.
According to one estimate there are about 250 to 300 actors of this ilk in Karachi. They pay about Rs3,000 to register with an ‘agent’ who is little more than a sleazy middleman in an apartment. There are four major talent coordinators or agents in Karachi. In return the agent liaises with the television channels and sends carloads of the extras for the shoots that need bodies. The television channels give the agent one cheque and it is up to him to pay back his actors. This does not often happen, especially with the newbies. For example, actor Ali’s talent coordinator once faked his signature and took his cheque.
The women get a particularly rough deal. They are expected to ‘audition’ in backrooms and there is no protection on the sets. The women, young and old, enter a world where there is no such thing as saying ‘no’. Most of the women just put this abuse down to the price they have to pay. There are only rarely cases like Maya* (not her real name) who quit. “I reached out to a coordinator through an advertisement in a newspaper. The guy was really dishonest and after all the work I did he kept the money,” she says, adding euphemistically: “I was not comfortable with the environment and the demands as well.”
The men in the industry have an exceptionally poor opinion of the women. “Ye larkian chowrangi kaat ke ai hain,” says the senior cameraman (they’ve taken a short-cut). He insists that the girls and young women are happy to do anything it takes to get on TV. “Anything!” he stresses. He insists, though, that he has never taken advantage of anyone because of one clear deterrent: his reputation. “Plus my boss would bury me alive if he ever heard that I had done anything,” he explains. “And then, if one of these extras ever got famous and complained of sexual harassment…”
But the reality is that these actors seldom become famous. At the most, if a young woman is exceptionally good-looking, she may go on to do a few advertisements. But unless you land a big-ticket act, these jobs don’t pay. “Different channels pay different amounts,” says actor Ali. “[…] pays the lowest as I only got Rs500. However, [… ] is good with the money and they usually pay up to Rs3,000.”
The one success story that is cited is of Ali Zafar who started his career with a role in a commercial and went on to do music videos. Given his talent though, he was said to be paid Rs20,000 for his first appearance.
But money never really is the motivation for these actors. They are obsessed with coming on television and are willing to go to any lengths to make it happen. Dilkash, for example, moved from Hyderabad to Karachi, leaving behind her two children and husband when she was picked for one television drama serial. “I was living alone in Karachi for around five to six months till my husband was transferred,” she says. “This was the most difficult time for me and made me want to give up. But my passion for acting gave me the strength.”
The actors are even, in many cases, expected to bring their own costumes. Khurram Abbas found he was always cast as the policeman. “It used to be a lot of trouble every morning to borrow a police uniform and as I was always landing such roles I finally went and had my own stitched,” he says. “So now I own a personal wardi!”
The reward, explains actor Ahmed Faraz, is being recognised in the street. He has been acting for about eight years now after realising that this industry was the one place where he could work out his fantasies of becoming a pilot, doctor, gangster, survivor.
As the pay is low and erratic, most of the men have part-time work elsewhere. Dr Faisal Masood works in nutrition at the KCHS Medical Centre in Karachi. “Acting is not my profession but my passion,” he says. “I am only able to work part-time and can’t take too many roles due to my [job].” He is still one of the relatively educated actors and even invested in training from the Arts Council of Pakistan, UNESCO and Eveready Institute of Performing Arts.
Generally, though, the quality of acting is wooden at best. “Not everyone knows how to cry,” sniffs Hafeez Ali of H&I Productions. He is an agent who says he represents 30 actors. “I’ll show you how to cry at the drop of a hat.” Hafeez still has some training having started working with PTV as an extra more than a decade ago. In 1996, he had a walk-on role and was paid Rs225 for his efforts. Those were different days and even the producers and directors were cut from a different cloth. “Previously, [when you needed extras] they’d grab four friends from here, four friends from there,” he explains. Today he will get requests for at least 12 extras in a week. He breaks it down: Three policemen, two ruffians, two heroes...
While extras are needed for morning shows as well of late, the bulk of them are used in the crime shows. As they are shooting in Bagh-e-Korangi, the violence seems almost real in the kidnapping scene. The man who grabs Arooj’s hair and face does it with a disturbing amount of zest and vigour. Arooj doesn’t flinch either. Indeed, it is telling that the re-enactment of the crime scene, in particular, has become so popular.
It was in it that the rape scene became acceptable as it is now dressed up as ‘news’. “If you put this in a drama it would be fahaash [vulgar],” says the senior cameraman. The people in the industry explain it away with a pinch of pop psychology: they are providing society catharsis. But for the actors who recreate these scenes, especially the girls, an undercurrent of sadomasochism is unmistakable. It is hard to tell if acting is an escape for them from the reality of their lives or if they really believe it will bring them the fame and glory they dream of.
Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 23rd, 2013.
The team of about ten people has been standing in the heat in Bagh-e-Korangi since 2pm, shooting the re-enactment of a kidnapping scene for one of the major channels. The mock kidnapping will add flavour to one of its crime shows. None of the actors are really paid. They’re just doing it because they want to be on TV.
(Top) A crew shoots a scene on Korangi road with the cameraman hanging out of the window of the Suzuki. (Bottom) A television channel's director explains the action he wants for a kidnapping scene shot in Bagh-e-Korangi with Arooj (in pink). Photo By Mohammad Kashif (Kt)
Two-minute re-enactments of crime scenes were adopted as a technique by Pakistani news channels about four years ago. The format was so popular that the ratings went through the roof. Programme after programme started shooting them and with it created demand for these actors, who are considered worse than C-class talent as a senior cameraman with a television channel put it. He should know, he’s shot many of these scenes and is the unofficial director of photography at the channel.
“They come from everywhere: far-flung areas of Karachi such as Malir, Landhi etc. Basically they are college-going students, government employees or unemployed people,” explains Abdul Karim Yousuf, who is a producer with Azaad film production. “They don’t have any ego issues so that is positive. But sometimes it is difficult to explain scenes to them as they are not trained.”
These actors barely have any formal education. They are “mun kholay bhand types” (open your mouth and make a mess) as the cameraman describes them — actors who are not even required to deliver dialogue, but fill in as the crowd for a washing powder ad or put bums on seats for a morning show audience.
(Bottom right) Hafeez Ali of H&I Productions in his office off Baloch expressway. Photo By Mohammad Kashif (Kt)
According to one estimate there are about 250 to 300 actors of this ilk in Karachi. They pay about Rs3,000 to register with an ‘agent’ who is little more than a sleazy middleman in an apartment. There are four major talent coordinators or agents in Karachi. In return the agent liaises with the television channels and sends carloads of the extras for the shoots that need bodies. The television channels give the agent one cheque and it is up to him to pay back his actors. This does not often happen, especially with the newbies. For example, actor Ali’s talent coordinator once faked his signature and took his cheque.
The women get a particularly rough deal. They are expected to ‘audition’ in backrooms and there is no protection on the sets. The women, young and old, enter a world where there is no such thing as saying ‘no’. Most of the women just put this abuse down to the price they have to pay. There are only rarely cases like Maya* (not her real name) who quit. “I reached out to a coordinator through an advertisement in a newspaper. The guy was really dishonest and after all the work I did he kept the money,” she says, adding euphemistically: “I was not comfortable with the environment and the demands as well.”
The men in the industry have an exceptionally poor opinion of the women. “Ye larkian chowrangi kaat ke ai hain,” says the senior cameraman (they’ve taken a short-cut). He insists that the girls and young women are happy to do anything it takes to get on TV. “Anything!” he stresses. He insists, though, that he has never taken advantage of anyone because of one clear deterrent: his reputation. “Plus my boss would bury me alive if he ever heard that I had done anything,” he explains. “And then, if one of these extras ever got famous and complained of sexual harassment…”
But the reality is that these actors seldom become famous. At the most, if a young woman is exceptionally good-looking, she may go on to do a few advertisements. But unless you land a big-ticket act, these jobs don’t pay. “Different channels pay different amounts,” says actor Ali. “[…] pays the lowest as I only got Rs500. However, [… ] is good with the money and they usually pay up to Rs3,000.”
The one success story that is cited is of Ali Zafar who started his career with a role in a commercial and went on to do music videos. Given his talent though, he was said to be paid Rs20,000 for his first appearance.
But money never really is the motivation for these actors. They are obsessed with coming on television and are willing to go to any lengths to make it happen. Dilkash, for example, moved from Hyderabad to Karachi, leaving behind her two children and husband when she was picked for one television drama serial. “I was living alone in Karachi for around five to six months till my husband was transferred,” she says. “This was the most difficult time for me and made me want to give up. But my passion for acting gave me the strength.”
The actors are even, in many cases, expected to bring their own costumes. Khurram Abbas found he was always cast as the policeman. “It used to be a lot of trouble every morning to borrow a police uniform and as I was always landing such roles I finally went and had my own stitched,” he says. “So now I own a personal wardi!”
The reward, explains actor Ahmed Faraz, is being recognised in the street. He has been acting for about eight years now after realising that this industry was the one place where he could work out his fantasies of becoming a pilot, doctor, gangster, survivor.
As the pay is low and erratic, most of the men have part-time work elsewhere. Dr Faisal Masood works in nutrition at the KCHS Medical Centre in Karachi. “Acting is not my profession but my passion,” he says. “I am only able to work part-time and can’t take too many roles due to my [job].” He is still one of the relatively educated actors and even invested in training from the Arts Council of Pakistan, UNESCO and Eveready Institute of Performing Arts.
Generally, though, the quality of acting is wooden at best. “Not everyone knows how to cry,” sniffs Hafeez Ali of H&I Productions. He is an agent who says he represents 30 actors. “I’ll show you how to cry at the drop of a hat.” Hafeez still has some training having started working with PTV as an extra more than a decade ago. In 1996, he had a walk-on role and was paid Rs225 for his efforts. Those were different days and even the producers and directors were cut from a different cloth. “Previously, [when you needed extras] they’d grab four friends from here, four friends from there,” he explains. Today he will get requests for at least 12 extras in a week. He breaks it down: Three policemen, two ruffians, two heroes...
While extras are needed for morning shows as well of late, the bulk of them are used in the crime shows. As they are shooting in Bagh-e-Korangi, the violence seems almost real in the kidnapping scene. The man who grabs Arooj’s hair and face does it with a disturbing amount of zest and vigour. Arooj doesn’t flinch either. Indeed, it is telling that the re-enactment of the crime scene, in particular, has become so popular.
It was in it that the rape scene became acceptable as it is now dressed up as ‘news’. “If you put this in a drama it would be fahaash [vulgar],” says the senior cameraman. The people in the industry explain it away with a pinch of pop psychology: they are providing society catharsis. But for the actors who recreate these scenes, especially the girls, an undercurrent of sadomasochism is unmistakable. It is hard to tell if acting is an escape for them from the reality of their lives or if they really believe it will bring them the fame and glory they dream of.
Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 23rd, 2013.