FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
Cover Story 18 Spray It Don’t Say It The walls are their canvases, and the street is their gallery
Feature 26 The Concrete Canvas Not just another brick in the Berlin Wall
Profile
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32 A Portrait of the Artist Nahid Raza’s art is a reflection of her life
Humour 36 Veena The Prez The next stop for our scandalous siren is the Aiwan-e-Sadr!
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Regulars 6 People & Parties: Out and about with Pakistan’s beautiful people 40 Reviews: What’s new in films 42 Ten Things I Hate About: Parties
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Magazine Editor: Zarrar Khuhro, Senior Sub-Editor: Batool Zehra, Sub-Editors: Ameer Hamza and Dilaira Mondegarian. Creative Team: Amna Iqbal, Jamal Khurshid, Essa Malik, Anam Haleem, Tariq W Alvi, S Asif Ali, Sukayna Sadik. Publisher: Bilal A Lakhani. Executive Editor: Muhammad Ziauddin. Editor: Kamal Siddiqi. For feedback and submissions: magazine@tribune.com.pk
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Hamza Tarar and Hasan Sheikh celebrate the reinvention of Casa Hamza in Lahore
Mariam Saqib and Zohair
Hamza Tarar and Mrs Rushda Tarar
Naseehuddin Sheikh, Hasan Sheikh and Ruhi Naseeh Uddin
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Fauzia and Mehdi FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
Mehreen Syed
Ammar Belal and Aaminah Haq
Nina and Nickie
Sabina Pasha and Rabia Butt
Nabeel and Asifa
PHOTOS COURTESY BILAL MUKHTAR EVENTS & PR
Juggun Kazim and Rana Nauman
FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Madiha and Ibrahim
Sarah and Faraz
Taimoor, Zarmina and Khalid Sulman
Zaina, Ahmed, Baber and Sara
Natasha and Hassan
Saana and Fauzan
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Samrah and Bilal Mukhtar
Redah and Shammal
FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Cafe Bistro launches in Lahore Fatima Adnan
Alyzeh and Amna Babar
Nur, Mathira and Ayesha
10 FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
Rabia Nayyar Buksh and Umer
Babloo and Sara Gillani
PHOTOS COURTESY VOILA PR
Sultanat Malik and Sabeen Jehanzeb
FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Cinnabon launches at Dolmen City, Karachi
Faryal, Zulfi Ansari and Fariha
Nazneen Tariq
Komal and Maheen
Frieha Altaf
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Aamra Khan with Rafay Khan FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
Noor, Alizeh and Silah Saigol
Mrs Yasser Khawaja and Zahra
PHOTOS COURTESY CATALYST PR AND MARKETING
Ayesha Omar
FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Sidra Nasir and Samina Shoaib Saima, Maham and Koni
Farheen and Murtazain Pinky with Alaina Sadia Nawabi
Myra, Nasreen and Saima
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Imrana and Fiza Ahmed Baweja
FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Weldon Moms holds a costume party at Dolmen Mall, Karachi
Rafia Rizwan and Hoor
Erum Basit and Saba Basit
Naveen and Ayaan
Sanam Hanif
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Ayesha
Shahzia
Ayesha and Maha
PHOTOS COURTESY VOILA PR
Nadia Hussain with her son
FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
COVER STORY
BY MAHAWISH REZVI
18 FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
“Art for art’s sake is an empty phrase. Art for the sake of truth, art for the sake of the good and the beautiful, that is the faith I am searching for.” - George Sand
In the midnight hour, when the city of lights sleeps fitfully under a shroud of darkness, a car full of young men and women trolls the streets of Defence, their eyes peeled for their latest target. The car slows down and two people get out, one holding the tools of his trade in his hands as the
others scans the road. Assured that the coast is clear, they get to work. A few minutes later, their job is complete, and they get back in the car and disappear into the night.
On the plain white wall they were parked next to is now what appears to be the figure of a woman
with her skirt flaring up, as in the iconic Marilyn Monroe shot. Look closer and you’ll see that it’s not a skirt at all, but a burqa.
Twenty-one-year-old Sajid* and his friends are not, as you may have guessed, mobile snatchers or
target killers. They are instead part of a small but growing breed of street artists who have turned the walls of Karachi into their canvases.
“The sexuality of Marilyn Monroe will go down through the ages, and I think I was trying to merge
that image with the idea that there is a person behind the burqa, that just because you’re in a burqa, whether you choose to be or are compelled to be in one, doesn’t mean you are not a person, and a
sexual person at that,” says Sajid*, who has been painting these ‘burqilyns’ for the last three years. “It
was a way to get people to notice something or even get a little bit offended. I just wanted to create a thought process in a person that, whether or not they make the Marilyn connection, they will under-
stand what the image means. And even if people are completely outraged, I just want to bring about an emotional response in people who see it.”
Artists the world over have been using the streets as their canvas for ages and street art, or graffiti in
particular, has many political undertones. Though often considered a form of vandalism, protest art in the form of graffiti is a global concept which, some claim, has been around since the time of ancient Greece and the Roman Empire.
In 1970s America, graffiti was often associated with the then-grimy subways of New York City. How-
ever, in the last few decades graffiti has come into its own, and is recognised as a legitimate form of street art, and a uniquely urban one at that. It is a form of art that is purely for public consumption, and that eschews the limiting canvasses and studios in favour of the expanses of walls and alleys.
The political element is ever-present in street art, and the divisive Berlin wall was memorably cov-
ered with colourful graffiti (at least on the Western side) as an expression of protest against the East German regime. In the present day, Israel’s ‘security wall’ is also covered in protest graffiti.
Closer to home, it seems that art, and street art in particular, truly does reflect life. “One can ar-
19 FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
gue that most contemporary Pakistani art is a kind of protest art and is certainly deeply politicised, especially as far as the work of younger artists is concerned,”
says Durriya Kazi, chairperson of the department of visual studies at the University of Karachi.
Sajid agrees, saying that he turns to real news events for inspiration for his
work. “I was obsessed with the burqa for some reason and I think it may have something to do with the Lal Masjid episode. I was just fascinated by how Mullah Abdul Aziz tried to escape wearing a burqa and got caught,” he says.
It’s not only politics and social commentary that is reflected in Sajid’s street
work. The ever-present threat of violence that Karachiites live with is also reflected in his work, as is evident in his spray-painted image of a corpse’s outline.
“As I was growing up, watching the news, watching the state of the country,
I had this sense of frustration, of being unable to control what was happening
and being unable to change it,” he pauses, as if in reflection. “I think the graffiti thing started basically as my way of trying to voice my opinions,” he says.
He’s not the only one to draw inspiration from chaos and violence, during Ka-
rachi’s last spate of target killings, a group of artists painted stencils for peace in the city — displayed on Facebook as ‘Rang de Karachi’.
Graffiti is only the latest addition to a long-standing tradition of artistic protest
in Pakistan, protests that have taken the form of poetry and literature as well as art. The long periods of military rule, in particular, were fertile ground for such
endeavours, and it is only fitting that Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s poetry is the inspiration behind Sajid’s body piece. The outline of the body is formed by words from Faiz’s poem Intisaab, and within this outline is the line “Un dukhi maaon ke naam” (In the name of those sad mothers).
“The first line reads ‘zard patone ka bun jo mera des hai’ (A forest of dying
leaves that is my country) which is something I felt like I could relate to so strongly, just because of what the country had become,” says Sajid. “And this was a
poem that was written decades ago, but still from then till 2012, nothing has really changed.”
But what’s art to some, is vandalism to others. Much of the artwork he has
scrawled on the walls of Zamzama has been whitewashed, and given the often controversial nature of his work, one would imagine the fear of getting caught looms large on his mind. But Sajid claims that really isn’t an issue as he uses the
cover of the night to shield his identity, and chooses to remain anonymous as an artist. “Anything in Pakistan can be considered blasphemous,” declares Sajid.
“You can misconstrue anything to make it sound or look blasphemous, if you re-
ally want to. A lot of the ‘Marilyns’ have been blacked out by people, and many
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times I have painted something in the night, only to find that someone has covFEBRUARY 5-11 2012
“You can misconstrue anything to make it sound or look blasphemous, if you really want to. A lot of the ‘Marilyns’ have been blacked out by people, and many times I have painted something in the night, only to find that someone has covered it with paint or a poster in the morning.” ered it with paint or a poster in the morning.”
The short shelf life of his work is something he seems to have
learned to live with. “That’s just part of the work,” he says.
“You’re creating emotions, some people will love it and some
people won’t, but either way it’s at least getting people to start thinking.”
Sajid is certainly not the first Pakistani artist to turn bare walls
into his canvas. Sadeqain started this tradition by painting large murals at Jinnah Hospital (now destroyed) and Frere Hall as well.
The late Asim Butt is known for his subversive street art work as well. His mural painted across the street from Shah Ghazi’s
mazaar in Karachi showcases his exemplary skills as an artist who really understood art made for public consumption.
Similar to Sajid’s work, Butt’s street art was also politically
inspired. He launched an art protest movement after military dictator General Pervez Musharraf declared a state of emergency in 2007, providing posters to protesters. His ‘eject’ symbol, spray
painted on street walls, quickly became a popular symbol for the pro-democracy movement which led to the eventual ouster of General Musharraf in 2009.
But Professor Durriya Kazi says Butt’s contribution to the art
world is far greater than his street work alone. “His murals were not objects for sale,” she says. “It was a generous sharing of his (Continued on page 24) FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
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COVER STORY
“The movement for artists to come out on the streets and join in the growing protests is slow in coming, but seems to be gaining momentum.�
24 FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
vision with wider and often unknown audiences instead of the controlled audience of the gallery.”
It is this very concept of drawing an audience from beyond the limited circles of
gallery goers that has attracted Sajid to street art as well. He says that even though he doesn’t spray paint till dark, a few stragglers do stop and watch what he is doing. He recalls one evening while painting the time bomb piece “this one man came up to me and told me that he thought what I was doing is a great idea, and
that we should come do this on the walls of Korangi where he lives, because he thought people in that part of town would really appreciate it.”
Having his work hang on a canvas in a gallery would rob him of such interac-
tions, he says. Since drawing out emotions from his audience is his target, he says seeing such reactions on the street, or reading people blog about his work without knowing who he is, is satisfaction enough.
Meanwhile, as far as street art in Pakistan as a whole is concerned, other art-
ists are bound to step up and add their unique visions to the walls of our towns
and cities. Since much of the work is politically inspired, it doesn’t seem as if that particular source of material will dry up anytime soon. “The movement for artists
to come out on the streets and join in the growing protests is slow in coming, but seems to be gaining momentum,” says a hopeful Kazi. “It remains to be seen how many can drag themselves away from the seduction or habit of the gallery, which is an important venue for their economic survival.”a
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FEATURE
the concrete
canvas “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, And spills the upper boulders in the sun, And makes gaps even two can pass abreast” Robert Frost, Mending Wall
BY FAZAL KHALIQ
When East Germans first crossed the Berlin Wall in the 1980s, they were taken aback by what they saw. What seemed to be an unending strip of blank emotionless concrete on the east was a canvas of art and colour on the west. In 1961, East German troops began work on what became known as the Berlin Wall, one of the most concrete expressions of the Iron Curtain. The wall completely cut off West Berlin from surrounding East Germany and from East Berlin.
26 FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
“I still remember the night of the fall, it was the night of our reunion”
The first version of the wall remained blank; the bad quality
a military uniform provides novelty visa stamps of East Berlin
any graffiti on the wall was extremely hard to see. It remained
over to the other side of Berlin was not possible without special
of concrete that was used prevented anyone from defacing it as
bare until 1975, when it was replaced and fortified by the Grenzmauer 75 (Border Wall 75), the final and most sophisticated
version of the Wall. Made up of prefabricated concrete seg-
ments lined side by side like huge Lego blocks, the perfection of the wall was the reason it became such a symbol of hope. The new wall was of better quality — East Germany had just created the largest canvas in the world.
to tourists. The stamps are a reminder of the time when going permission. The sight of the wall still seems to have an impact on Berliners, “I get emotional whenever I visit this little part
of the wall,” says Paul Haunt, “at the time of its fall, I was just
a little boy but I remember crossing it with my whole family. There were smiles all around as people crossed over to meet family and friends.”
Stephn Kohn, a taxi driver, lived in East Berlin before the
Painting or writing on the wall was expressly forbidden and
fall. “There were times when my family had to spend days
der, East German soldiers were allowed to arrest anyone who
other,” he says, “I still remember the night of the fall, it was
since the wall was built three metres beyond the official borso much as stood near the wall. Despite the threat of arrest, the western side was soon covered with an assortment of art,
without food. But today we live with love and respect for each the night of our reunion.”
It’s not just Germans or Berliners who are touched by this mon-
graffiti, and messages of hope. The walls symbolised the dif-
ument. Fazle Rabbi Rahi, a Pakistani visitor to the wall, says,
east were in sharp contrast to the colourful and lively ones in
possible to divide one nation into two parts. Even this remain-
ferences between the east and the west. The bare walls of the
the west — the former represented the repressed society of East Berlin, while the latter, the freedom and hope of West Berlin.
Twenty-two years later, one can still see traces of the wall in
“The fall of the Berlin Wall was something natural; it is never ing fragment creates suffocation in my mind. This was a wall of hatred and it is clear that hatred can never nourish anyone.”
After the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 the Eastern side of the
and around Berlin. The vestiges of the wall are there to remind
wall was also painted by artists. Today, a few painted sections
front of the segments of the wall in Potsdam Square, a man in
ensures that most of it remains grey. a
us that freedom is precious and it must be protected. Right in
of the Eastern side of the wall still exist but the City of Berlin
27 FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
PROFILE
a portrait of the artist
Nahid Raza’s art is a reflection of her life BY MUNA SIDDIQI
The memory of climbing the stark stairway leading to Nahid Raza’s home and art studio is fresh in my mind, as I return a decade later. As I enter the salon of one of Paki-
stan’s leading female artists, the familiarity of the room makes me feel like I’ve just stepped into a time warp. The book shelves are still stacked
32 FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
with dusty classics — a copy of Georgia O’Keefe’s works, Akbar Naqvi’s Image and Identity and a load of books on Urdu poetry.
As I wait for Nahid, I study the art work adorning the walls
of her studio — personal musings by Hussain and Sadequain, a sketch by Naqsh, paintings by Bashir Mirza, Tasadaq Sohail and
Moeen Faruqui. There is serenity in this quiet corner, along with the memories of a bygone era of art and the hope that shaped the period those artists belonged to. Apart from the distant sound of
the Azaan, there is silence as I peek out of a little window and view the sun setting across a vista of rooftops and the distant sea. Just then, Nahid walks into the room, bringing with her the
vibrancy and warmth I remember so well. No conversation on art history in Pakistan is complete without a mention of Nahid
Raza; her career spans at least four decades and her paintings, which are a candid reflection of her life, have been auctioned at
Christie’s — a renowned international company offering art auc-
tions around the globe.
The last time we met was in the catacombs of a Pakistan Tele-
vision studio — she was a female artist, I was the art critic and
Khushbakht Shujaat the interviewer commenting on art and female artists in Pakistan. But a lot has changed since then. Governments have come and gone, PTV has been bumped down the
ratings list by dozens of competing and innovative news channels and art in Pakistan has taken a new turn.
Galleries have burgeoned in every large city, completely chang-
ing the outlook of art for the country. Entrepreneurs and young professionals are now buying works of art both to signal they have arrived in life and as a safe-haven investment.
And so, Nahid and I reminisce about this change over a cup of
tea, as two people who have witnessed the close-knit art family transform into the atomised world of capitalist art mongers. Na-
hid puts her cup down while shaking her head and mentions the word truly apt for recent times: Marketing. It is important and a young generation of artists understands this, she says.
There was scant awareness of this concept when she was a
young artist.
The daughter of a journalist, Nahid, spent a peripatetic child-
hood moving from Karachi, to Hyderabad and Khairpur and back. Consequently, her schooling was interrupted repeatedly.
She recalls that this made her more aware of her surroundings and enriched her in ways that a ‘normal’ childhood would never have.
But today I see a different Nahid — one who is at peace with her life, surrounded by pictures of her children and grandchildren. And this tranquility is reflected in her paintings. Her new work is, in her own words, wrapped with peace and enveloped in a milky white hue
While growing up, Nahid looked up to her two uncles — Raza,
a prominent artist who lived in Paris and Ali Imam, one of the
better-known personalities of Pakistani art. When Nahid finished her first year at university, Imam returned from his so-
33 FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
PROFILE
journ abroad and accepted the responsibility of heading the Cen-
tral Institute of Arts and Crafts at the Arts Council in Karachi.
Recognising his young niece’s talent, the maestro took her under his wing. At the CIAC, Nahid Raza started her life-long career de-
voted to art. She recalls how she left Pakistan in the ‘80s to study art in the US and how this had a profound effect on her work,
centralising her artistic focus on her own experience as a woman — as a mother, a daughter and a wife.
Many female artists do not wish their work to be judged as
‘feminine’, but Nahid is very conscious of her gender and paints
with a clear social conscience. When asked about her views on modern femininity, she surprised me when she voices her support for patience and compliance and insists on finding harmony
and resisting hasty conclusions. Her role as a mother fulfills her identity as a woman today.
But Nahid’s paintings have hardly been silent on the burden
of patriarchy. For those unfamiliar with the painter’s work, her
first exhibition was titled “Misery”, which followed a messy divorce. For years, she used the necktie as a symbol of masculine
hegemony; in her paintings it often signifies the invisible presence of a man.
But today I see a different Nahid — one who is at peace with
her life, surrounded by pictures of her children and grandchil-
34 FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
Ever the spiritual person, the symbolism in Nahid’s work draws from her religious beliefs. She has used the buraq — the creature is partly woman, partly horse — that carried the Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) to the heavens in her previous work
Many female artists do not wish their work to be judged as ‘feminine’, but Nahid is very conscious of her gender and paints with a clear social conscience
dren. And this tranquility is reflected in her paintings. Her new
work is, in her own words, wrapped with peace and enveloped in a milky white hue.
Ever the spiritual person, the symbolism in Nahid’s work
draws from her religious beliefs. She has used the buraq — the
creature is part woman, part horse — that carried the Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) to the heavens in her previous work. Her paintings now close in on an even central square. For Nahid, this is the culmination of the memory of her recent trip to Mecca,
where the cubic Kaaba stands as a central stoic symbol of tranquility and peace.
Raza is also an educator of the arts. She has founded her own
art institution, Studio Art, to which she devotes her time and offers her years of experience as an academician. The last time I
met Nahid, her school was housed in a large building and scores of students were attending her art school. Today the school has been reduced to two small rooms, attending by a handful of students. Since property rental prices in Karachi have soared in the past few years, an art school has little chance of surviving here
without the support of a government grant. She shakes her head
sadly but then shrugs her shoulders to show her acceptance of
this harsh reality. Remembering the zeal she had for her school when I had met her last, I experience a tinge of frustration know ing that it has reduced to this.
But at the time same time, I also felt humbled at the simplicity
of Nahid’s life and her perseverance without notions of grandeur. She seems unsullied by the temptations of marketing her work.
She neither pays heed to suggestions by galleries to produce more ‘sellable’ art nor does she tailor her life to suit the tastes of snooty
art collectors. She continues her own love affair with art as she
pleases. After all, she is part of the history of art in Pakistan. Nahid Raza’s art is a conversation of a woman’s identity in this
country and her paintings over the years mark her journey as a woman, simply and unequivocally.
35 FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
HUMOUR
veena the prez Senator Tariq Azeem wants her in the Senate…but our headline-grabbing siren has set her sights a little higher… BY AA SHEIKH
A columnist writing in this newspaper suggested that if 2012 were to match the outlandish eventfulness of its predecessor, Veena Malik would need to become our president. Perhaps this was the apocalypse that the Mayans had been
losing sleep over. Here, then, is her first address to the nation as head of state:
My dear countrymen, women, and Ali Saleem. Today I stand
proud before you as the first elected woman president of this country and the only one to have been a model, actress, comedian, mimic, TV show host, reality TV star and something else that I forgot. I have so many diverse talents that I will apply
again to the Guineeez Book of Records. Last time I did that they
said they had no category for the biggest attention-grabbing sleazebag. Well, I hope being president would change that.
Or would it? Anyways, I digress. When I was running for this
exalted office many people tried to laugh it off. What, Veena?
President!? But I kept my faith, one of the few things I kept on. If Newt Gingrich can run for president, I reckoned, any Dick
can do it. And Tom and Harry too. I digress again. I wanted to keep this speech briefs but this is a momentous occasion and the biggest photo-shoot I ever did. So bare with me, please.
We all know Pakistan is in bad shape; we need a workout.
I mean we need to work hard. We have hit bottom. But now we’ll go for the top. With me as your leader, I can assure you
52 36 FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
we will rise to new heights. I have ambitious plans. We will erect
but the entire nation should contribute. I want all of you to be-
will raise our economy so ordinary people could afford Gucci and
of modelling agencies and beauty salons. I would encourage for-
new buildings; build roads, overhead bridges, underpants. We Prada and Tariq Amin facials. But to achieve all that we have to make sacrifices and take very bold steps. I will do all my parts
come model citizens. To that end I would encourage the growth eign investment, especially from big, reputable international
firms like Playboy and Victoria’s Secret. And for people’s shop-
ping convenience, I intend to build strip malls all over, and very
fast food joints for the hungry and needy. Also, for recreation and
for promoting very soft images of Pakistan, we’ll have clothingoptional resorts in places like Swat, Lyari and Raiwind. Yes, I intend to give Pakistan a complete makeover!
Ever since I took oath, people have been asking me about for-
eign affairs. I have no problem with them as long as it’s done
in a hush-hush way and the media don’t make a circus of your
private life. Look at poor Shoaib and Sania. On a similar note, I’m for very intimate relations with India. It has the world’s big-
gest entertainment industry and we can all benefit from that. We should keep abreast with India, and we should pose no threat to
it whatsoever; it’s a happening place and the commissions are good.
With the Americans I intend to be soft and firm at the same
time, depending on the situation. They’ve been bombing us but,
seriously, they have great glossy ’zines. I have yet to decide about that country and I won’t reveal too much at this stage.
For those who’ve expressed concerns about my relationship
with the army and the agencies, let me be clear: I will work shoulder-to-shoulder with the ISI, go arm-in-arm with the military. I have nothing against them. Absolutely nothing.
Finally, some key appointments: Amir Liaquat as info and cul-
ture adviser. He’s a smooth talker and the silk designer-wear is chic. My old pal Muhammad Asif as PCB chairman, once he’s done jail time. And I was thinking: Mathira as US ambassador but we don’t want a mammogate now, do we? Pakistan Zindabad!
3753 FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
REVIEW
the iron lady: de-politicising margaret thatcher BY UMAIR KHAN
For those born after the 1980’s let me first clarify that The Iron Lady is not the female version of Iron Man. The ‘Iron Lady’ was the sobriquet given to Britain’s first female Prime Minister and cold warrior par excellence, Margaret Thatcher. Having clarified that, let me also tell you that in this movie the role of Thatcher is played by another woman of substance, Meryl Streep. To those who know and love her (because once you see her perform, you can’t resist admiring her), rest assured that she is as brilliant as ever in this role. The Iron Lady is not at all a traditional biopic. Neither does it follow the formulaic linear progression of the main character from childhood to the pinnacle of her career and then the inevitable decline into obscurity. Nor does it focuses on a single important event in the life of the protagonist, like The King’s Speech or The Queen. Abi Morgan, a British screenwriter, has adopted a narrative that cleverly employs the flashback technique (or for those more familiar with literature, the stream-of-consciousness technique). The film familiarises the viewers with the present condition of Mrs Thatcher as old and near-paranoid, living with ever so prevalent memories of her rise to power, and hallucinating the comforting presence of her dead husband, Denis (Jim Broadbent).
scorsese shines again BY NOMAN ANSARI
I smiled. I cried. I almost hugged the stranger seated next to me in delight. Part Dickensian adventure tale and part biopic, Hugo played my heartstrings expertly, evoking a real sense of joy and wonder. And considering that its subject, legendary filmmaker Georges Méliè, started off as a magician, it is fitting that Hugo is a bit magical. The film is also directed by a legend. Martin Scorsese, who has made a career out of serious and gritty American crime films, not only makes his first 3D picture, but also his first family film. And it seems that the first time’s the charm as Hugo wins on both counts. The 3D effects are a fine complement to the gorgeous film, while the movie itself works splendidly for viewers of all ages. Set in 1930, the film starts with its titular character, 12-year-old Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield), as an orphan who has lost his doting father (Jude Law), a widowed clockmaker, to a museum fire. To make matters worse, he now has to live with his alcoholic uncle Claude 40 Cabret (Ray Winstone) at a bustling Paris railway station, where he FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
Unsurprisingly, some critics have savaged the rather peculiar direction by Phyllida Lloyd. Their main objection is the de-fanging, de-clawing, and de-politicising of the character of Mrs Thatcher. While it is true that the movie does not look at the conservative policies of Mrs T in detail and focuses instead on the personal aspects of her life, for those who are expecting to debate the merits and demerits of Mrs T’s politics I would like to remind them that it is a movie, not a documentary. Meryl’s performance is nothing less than miraculous. Sometimes during the movie it seems as if she is playing Mrs T even better than Mrs T herself, a rare feat for any actor. Her performance is not a mere impersonation; her voice is not mere mimicry. She manages to reveal the human aspect of Mrs T that has thus far stayed hidden. The movie not only celebrates the successful career path of Mrs. T, but also the demise of her political, intellectual, physical and mental capabilities, and finally her resignation to a passively secluded life. It is about universal issues such as affection, relationship dynamics, and living with loneliness. As Phyllida Lloyd, recently stated: ‘It is simply not about her policies, it’s about power and the loss of power, the contemplation of old age and what it feels like to get old and to try and cope with life on your own.’
maintains the clocks. After his uncle disappears, Hugo takes up the task of maintaining the railway clocks in order to avoid suspicion, all the while dodging orphan hunting Inspector Gustav (Sacha Baron Cohen). Feeling terribly lonely, Hugo’s only comforts are the memories of the Georges Méliès films he viewed with his father, and the broken robot his father brought home from the museum before his death. Believing that the automaton carries a special message from his father, Hugo steals mechanical parts from a sulky toy store owner (Ben Kingsley) to complete its repairs, eventually only requiring a heart shaped key to activate it. The movie eventually shifts the focus from Hugo to Georges Méliè and in a sublime turn, celebrates the birth of cinema. In the final act, the film reveals itself as what it truly is: Martin Scorsese’s love letter to cinema.
THE HATER
10 things I hate about
1 2 3 4 5
…parties
BY MARIA WAQAR
The middle-aged merry-makers. Abandon all hopes of spotting eye candy. You’d think that a happening party
will be thronged by hot youngsters, but instead you’ll
be seeing mostly pot-bellied uncles and over-botoxed cougars.
The inaccessible washrooms. Be warned: you will nev-
er find an unoccupied washroom once the party gets
going. Bang on the locked toilet doors all you want, but
don’t expect the people inside to pay heed to pleas of impending bladder damage.
The lack of proper refreshments. A note to the host:
Since when did chips fried in cow fat and Rs20 nimko sold at shoddy CNG pumps begin counting as “snacks”? Considering you’re selling tickets for Rs10,000 per couple, can’t we at least expect Planter’s peanuts?
The cheap Hindi music. Just when the Chemical Brothers get you into the mood to dance, the DJ switches to
Munni Badnaam and suddenly aunties with gyrating hips occupy the dance floor. Why must all merry-making in Pakistan ultimately resemble big desi weddings?
The same phony conversations.
Stranger: So you work at a bank. Do you know so-andso there?
You: Yes, he’s my colleague.
Stranger: Oh you do. What a small world it is!
Well stranger, curb your phony enthusiasm. The world is
a small place for Pakistan’s privileged cliques. Try going
42
outside and finding a mutual connection with a person on the street. FEBRUARY 5-11 2012
6 7 8 9 10
The underage teens — Amongst the hordes of aunties and uncles, you will always spot a few overexcited teen-
agers — skinny boys with oodles of hair gel and girls in skin-tight clothes. Some genuine advice for them: Dear
kids, it’s way past your bed time, so go home and come back in 10 years.
The confusing social dynamics — Why do some cou-
ples, who arrive together and spend most of their time
engaging in public displays of affection, suddenly break up and leave the party with other people? It’s really confusing and makes you wonder what you missed out on for hours.
The all-too desi pick-up lines — My father’s an MNA, Chaudhry XYZ … do you want to dance with me?
Oh, so you’re a PTI supporter? So am I! Let’s go out and discuss this further over coffee.
The smoke. I don’t know what’s worse: inhaling diesel fumes on my way back home from work or sitting
in a room full of cigarette smoke for hours. Shindigs in Pakistan should come with a serious health warning.
The dance floor discussions on politics. If drawing room discussions on politics weren’t vacuous enough, dance
floor musings on the country’s “sad state of affairs” take empty talk to another level. Do people even realise
how lame they sound when they lament the civil-military imbalance in between dance routines? a