The Express Tribune Magazine - June 23

JUNE 22-28 2014

KARACHI: THE MUSICAL K Karachi hi once swayed d to the h melodies l di of Goan musicians

JUNE 22-28 2014

Feature

High end enterprise

Cover Story Karachi: The Musical

Young men now grow and sell their own weed

Back in the day, Goan musicians pumped melody into Karachi

34

Comment

Design(er) Dreams Designers play a crucial role in promoting social and environmental responsibility

36

24

4

Regulars

6 People & Parties: Out and about with beautiful people

38 Reviews: Books and movies 42 Society: Future of human resource management

Magazine In-charge: Sarah Munir, Subeditors: Dilaira Dubash & Mifrah Haq Creative Team: Essa Malik, Jamal Khurshid, Samra Aamir, Kiran Shahid, Munira Abbas, Omer Asim, Sanober Ahmed & Talha Ahmed Khan Publisher: Bilal A Lakhani. Executive Editor: Muhammad Ziauddin. Editor: Kamal Siddiqi For feedback and submissions: magazine@tribune.com.pk Twitter: @ETribuneMag & Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ETribuneMag Printed: uniprint@unigraph.com

PEOPLE & PARTIES Patiala Piyala and Deli Fresh open at Super Cinema, Vogue Towers, in Lahore

PHOTOS COURTESY QYT EVENTS

Sehr, Uzma and Nadia

Aaleen, Mehrbano and Ayesha

Nickie and Nina

Alyzeh Gabol

Fia

6 JUNE 22-28 2014

Rabia Noman Ijaz

PEOPLE & PARTIES Pantene holds its eighth Bridal Couture Week in Karachi

PHOTOS COURTESY XENITH PR

Cybil with a friend

Fatima, Rabia and Mehryn

Saim Ali and Nazia

Malik

Ayyan with a model Hassan Shehryar Yaseen

8 JUNE 22-28 2014

PEOPLE & PARTIES

X-Men: Days of Future Past premieres in Lahore and Islamabad

PHOTOS COURTESY VERVE PR

Aleen and Asad

Leena and Huzaima

Ali Azmat Zamad Baig and

Jahanzaib Khan

Noor

iaz Romana Aziz and Ifra Imt

10 JUNE 22-28 2014

PEOPLE & PARTIES

PHOTOS COURTESY XENITH PR

Vaneeza, Anya, Alayna, Sara and Anushka

Maria B and Tahir

Amanat Ali and Annie Khalid

Zain and Maliha

een Awais Am Zain, Misha, Sundas and

12 JUNE 22-28 2014

Fahad

PEOPLE & PARTIES

House Retro launches in Bahria town, Islamabad

PHOTOS COURTESY ASAD DURRANI

Xin and Sara

Zafar and Nargis

eena

Maliha and Shah

Zara and Farooq

Mona and Ali

14 JUNE 22-28 2014

PEOPLE & PARTIES

PHOTOS COURTESY ASAD DURRANI

Jugnoo Butt with family

Haider, Aleena and Amal Janjua

Mehiwsh and Irfan

Malik

Maryam

Mr and Mrs Irfan Madiha and Moutasim

16 JUNE 22-28 2014

KARACHI: A look at the Karachi of yesteryears and the Goan musicians who pumped

BY SARAH MUNIR melody into it DESIGN BY ESSA MALIK PHOTOS COURTESY GOANS OF PAKISTAN

The Musical

If you live or have lived in Karachi at some point, it is hard not to have been party to nostalgic conversations recalling the heydays of the city when music spilled late into the balmy evenings and the broadness of worldviews matched the bell-bottomed hemlines of its proponents. There was ample space for art, culture and music to thrive and at the centre of all the action was the city’s Goan community that has long since faded into the shadows.

Tracing the Goans of Karachi The Goan community traces its origins from the state of Goa, located on the west coast of India, which was captured by the Portuguese in the early 16th century. In the 18th century, a large part of the state’s population migrated to other destinations in search of better economic prospects.

The port city of Karachi, which showed great promise of developing into a business and trade hub under British rule, also attracted a significant proportion of Goans.

While Karachi has always been the centre for the Goan community, with a population of 15,000 to 18,000, some families have also settled in other cities such as Lahore, Rawalpindi and Quetta.

Some people called it Paris and some called it the New York of the subcontinent. If you walked from the seaport to the airport, it was common to hear bands playing into the night Musician Ralph Daranjo In 1947, Karachi’s demographics shifted significantly with an exodus of Hindus to India and consequently a large number of Mohajirs coming and settling into the city. At the time, Goans and Parsis formed a key part of the diverse social fabric of the city. According to Goans of Pakistan, an archival resource for the community, “While the generous

Norman D’Souza with famous boxer Joe Frazier.

Earlier, you never asked anyone if they were an Amir or Anwer or Anthony. No one cared, but suddenly it all became topsy-turvy Music patron Desmond Vas

(Top) A group of cabaret dancers outside the Taj Hotel in 1975.

(Bottom) The band Blackjacks during a performance.

Parsis built and gifted magnificent city-landmarks, including water-troughs for horses, Goans in particular were in the limelight of everything, from municipality to customs, judiciary to policing, sports, music and stage plays to ballroom dancing, and of course cuisine.”

Goans and Music “Music was always at the heart of Goan culture, with a piano or some musical instrument in every household,” shares Desmond Vas, a senior member of the community and a patron of music. However, as the city grew and consequently families moved to smaller houses, the instruments lost their central place in households.

“Bands would get together in the neighbourhood and community events to play music. It was from there that the bands of the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s emerged,” elaborates Roland deSouza, who was a part of a 1960s band called The

Young Ones.

But Karachi at the time was a very different city.

“Some people called it Paris and some called it the New York of the subcontinent,” says 62-year-old Ralph Daranjo, who has been religiously playing with his jazz band at the Pearl Continental Hotel, Karachi, for the past 35 years. “If you walked from the seaport to the airport, it was common to hear bands playing into the night.”

“The city could show you a good time,” says 65-year-old Rafique Ahmed, who could often be spotted at the many nightclubs and discotheques in the city during the late 1960s and early 1970s. “It was the kind of place where you could pop in during the weekend and always find something to do.” Social life was thriving and it was normal for the city’s educated urban elite to go out for an evening of music and dancing.

The best music and the crème de la crème of the city could be found at places like the Nasreen room (currently the Taipan restaurant at Pearl Continental), Samar discotheque, Julianna discotheque (current Suzie Wong restaurant at Marriott), Midway House, Club 007 at the Beach Luxury Hotel and the Horseshoe. The tunes played

Norman D’Souza in action.

(Top) Talismen — one of the leading bands that dominated the Karachi music scene.

(Bottom) The 1950s band Rhythm Quintet during a performance. at these venues were borrowed, mostly Western pop, with a little bit of rock and country on the side. The audience comprised primarily of locals but it was not unusual to spot foreigners in the crowd either. “Places like the Midway House, which was near the airport, had a lot of foreigners in the crowd, especially airline crews,” says Allan Goveas, who played the piano for a 1960s band called The Drifters, among a few others. “They understood the kind of music we were playing, so I enjoyed playing there more.”

But the musicians who breathed life into these melodies were local, belonging mainly to the Christian community — a majority originated from Goa; others belonged to various areas of Punjab along with a few Anglo-Indians. Muslim band members were rare and hard to find, with The Bugs of the 1960s being one of the most prominent Muslim bands that most musicians from the time could recall. Once in a while, foreign bands would also touch down upon the port city and jam for a local audience. While most bands were predominantly male, the music scene was by no means a

boys club. Bands like The Xavier Sisters became the first Pakistani all-women band to play for live audiences. Other bands such as The Keynotes also had a female vocalist, Cesca Dominga, for several years. “But most of them eventually got married and left music,” shares Vas. Neither the men nor the women in these bands, however, had learnt to read or play music at an institutional level.

“Most of us had no formal training in music. We picked it up by ear,” says Goveas. But talent and familiarity with notes since a young age made up for it. “We all learnt [to sing or play] in the bathroom but most of these bands could hear any tune and play it so well that it would be hard to tell the difference from the original,” elaborates Vas. Hotels and clubs hired the bands on a contractual basis, the duration of which ranged from three months to a year.

Life was good and the money even better. “A four-member band would be paid Rs800 to Rs1,000 per month to play six nights a week,” elaborates Norman. “It was a lot of money for the time,” adds Norman. Most bands had their own uniforms, usually formal attire, complete with a blazer or a dinner jacket. But that did not dampen the ‘cool’ quotient. Trendy Afros, long unruly hair, or a pair of dark John Lennon glasses were usually spotted on stage, making these musicians’ demeanour as expressive of the time as the tunes they were playing.

Like anywhere else in the world, the combination of young blood, music and alcohol, also often led to brawls

The Drifters.

In-Crowd — one of the bands that Hillary Furtado was a part of.

outside discotheques with Samar being one of the most notorious spots for fights. “There were a lot of fights outside discotheques. It was normal,” says Norman. “But there were no guns, only knives and bottles.” Goveas recalls a night when former president Asif Ali Zardari, a regular at Karachi’s nightclubs, saved him from a thrashing from another audience member. “He told the other guy not to touch me. He didn’t know me, but he knew and respected me as a band boy.”

While the air outside these venues often got hostile, there was camaraderie between competing band members on the inside. “We would all meet after performances at a place called Jehangir restaurant in Saddar and discuss what we played,” says Eddie Mendes, who was also a part of The Drifters. If one of the boys had to miss a gig due to some reason, somebody else from another band would cover up for him. “But we also looked out for the good musicians and tried to get them to join our band on the

side,” adds Norman.

Along with the bustling nightlife, radio also played an important role in promoting music at the time. Radio Pakistan had two shows at 1:30 in the afternoon and at 10 at night that played Western music with RJ Edward Carapiet. “The show played half an hour of Western tunes, often followed by a one-hour live talent show where various people who played and sang in Karachi participated,” recalls Norman. Edgar Saville, a versatile pianist, would play with everyone.

But things took a complete U-turn in the 1970s when the overpowering din of religiosity drowned out every other note in the city. “It was not just music that was affected.

Every aspect of public life was tainted,” says Ahmed. “It was like being part of a silent piety parade.” But things were worse if you were a musician and a minority. “Earlier, you never asked anyone if they were an Amir or Anwer or Anthony,” says Vas. “No one cared, but suddenly it all became topsy-turvy.”

(Below) The Xavier Sisters, the first Pakistani all-women band to play for live audiences. PHOTO COURTESY: RALPH DAJANGO

The day the music died “The country had always had a strong identification with Islam ever since it was formed in 1947,” says Norman.

However, in 1977, around Zia’s time, which saw the end of discotheques and socialising, a lot of these bands packed their bags and left the country.

“Prohibition also played an important role,” adds Vas. “If you come to a discotheque, what would you like to have?

You like to have a drink! When that stopped, attendance swished.” Previously clubs that had an attendance of 300 to 400 people per night could now only pull in a crowd of 30 to 40 people. “Naturally, they couldn’t afford the bands and they were given the boot.” Those that were left behind had no choice but to switch to private events. “We continued to play music in whatever capacity we could but everything had changed. Our income had stopped,” says Norman.

Members of the band In-Crowd outside a discotheque.

Talismen performing at one of the venues in Karachi.

Another change was the shift towards Indian/Urdu music. “The demand for bands that could play eastern music started to grow and they were also cheaper,” says Dajango. “But it was very different from the kind of music I knew and played.” He switched to jazz permanently a few years before things went downhill and has stayed true to his genre despite the shifts. Technology also played an important role in cutting down business for live bands that were replaced by DJs who were four to five times cheaper.

Few bands could survive the massive change in culture that overtook the country after the 1980s. A lot of them migrated to Canada, Australia, the US and UK. Some even reassembled outside Pakistan, especially in Canada.

For those who stayed back, there were limited options; either play at private gigs and events or to adapt to the eastern tunes and become part of the mainstream bands.

This is precisely what one of the leading musicians of the time, Hillary Furtado, did. After being a part of leading live bands such as the Talismen, The In-crowd and Keynotes, Furtado switched to eastern melodies and provided music for leading names like Alamgir, Mohammed Ali Shehki and Junaid Jamshed. Malcom Goveas, who was the lead drummer for the band Junoon in the 1990s, also followed this pattern later on. Furtado admits that even though back-up musicians don’t usually get the recognition they deserve, it is a good deal as it ensures a stable source of income and includes perks like international travel. But not everyone had an equally smooth transition. “As I said, I didn’t study music so my mind could never register these tunes,” says Goveas.

Future Even though the younger generation includes examples like Giles Goveas, a drummer for big names like Kaavish, Aunty Disco Project, Rachel and Zoe Viccaji and Alicia Dias, the voice behind the soundtracks of several dubbed Turkish serials, who have skillfully adapted themselves to the requirements of the local market, the Goan community’s dominance in the music arena seems to have concluded with the end of live music. The decline has been further magnified by the community’s rapid migration to other countries.

Few optimists such as Menin Rodrigues, a senior member of the community, feel that things look positive for musicians over all. “Previously, the only non-Goans who played music were part of film bands. Now people from all kinds of backgrounds are entering this field and they have so many more opportunities.” Younger musicians such as Giles echo the same sentiment. “Agreed that if I was in India there would be a lot more opportunities, but there is immense potential in the market here too.”

The senior generation, however, seems to have made peace with the fact that even though they didn’t change much, the world around them had been turned on its head. As one of them croons the notes to Sinatra’s ‘My Way’, suddenly the lyrics seem strangely befitting.

Karachi may continue its musical journey but it will never be the same again. T Sarah Munir heads the magazine desk at The Express Tribune. She tweets @SarahMunir1

High end

Enterprise

Gone are the days when you had to frequent the dark, clandestine alleys opposite University Road, Karachi, for your fix of hash. The transaction is no longer swift or panicked and the drug peddler is not the usual unkempt middle-aged man lurking in the shadows. Instead, a new crop of young, educated men are growing and selling weed from the comfort of their homes and like most other things, a drug delivery is also now a phone call or text message away.

The trend is not surprising given that cannabis is the most common drug of choice in Pakistan, consumed by 3.6% of the population between the ages 15 and 64, or approximately four million people, according to a 2013 United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime report. The cannabis plant or ‘bhang’ is quite versatile in its use. The dried flowers and stems of its female plant are what make up weed that is burnt and smoked while the whole plant except the bud is crushed to make bhang, the beverage. The purified and compressed resin from the plant makes up hash.

With the demand for weed burgeoning, the business of growing and selling marijuana has become more lucrative than many white collar jobs. According to a Karachi-based dealer, if he grew 50 plants, every plant would reap 28 grams of weed that would fetch him Rs50,000 to Rs60,000, amounting to Rs2,500,000 a month. Hence, many weed dealers in urban centres, including Karachi, Lahore and Islamabad, are now growing cannabis in their backyards or indoors using local or high-quality imported seeds. Weed seeds can easily be ordered anonymously — four to five seeds for approximately Rs3,000 to Rs4,000 — from online forums such as the infamous Silk Road, which served as a black market for illegal drugs until it was shut down by the FBI in 2013. Many similar websites have sprung up since then. The seeds are usually secretly shipped to their destination, but there are other means too. “The seeds are so small that you can store them in a wallet and bring them across,” says Omair, a Karachi34 based dealer.

JUNE 22-28 2014

Young men are now growing and selling their own weed in urban centres

BY ZEHRA QURESHI DESIGN SAMRA AAMIR

It is inevitable, however, for a growing illicit business to run into trouble with the law enforcement. Thus, apart from the overheads, weed growers have to factor in the variable cost of bribing police officials that some contend runs as high as Rs100,000 a week. Dealers know that this amount will be easily recovered from their high-end clients who are willing to pay handsomely for their product.

While weed is mostly the drug of choice of the wealthy, along with pure forms of hash, ecstasy, PCP and heroin, substitutes like adulterated charas and the 100-rupee ‘raard’ are also available for those not willing to spend as much. “It is a mix of sleeping pills, chemicals and sometimes even burnt tires,” says 22-year-old Haroon, a pharmacology student by the day and dealer by the night. While Haroon started smoking up at the age of 14, he claims that his clients these days are even younger. “Nowadays kids know everything. They know what drugs exist, they know how to buy them and what to do with them later,” he says.

Demand is usually at its peak during holiday breaks and exam season, he adds.

The use of weed is largely stigmatised for its adverse psychological and physical effects, such as rapid heartbeat, disorientation, lack of physical coordination, depression and anxiety. But some argue that legalising marijuana cultivation will regulate the black market and generate taxes, as in Iran and the states of Colorado and Washington. “The hemp variety of the cannabis plant, which is low in psychoactive drug compounds, has a million industrial uses,” says Haroon. Hemp is a reliable plant that produces nearly 250% more fibre per acre of land than cotton and requires only half the amount of water for cultivation, he elaborates. “It would be far more feasible to obtain pulp from hemp plants, which take only two to three months to grow as compared to other kinds of wood,” he adds.

While the utility of weed remains debatable, its profitability is certain. And until consumption continues to rise while the law enforcement looks the other way, more backyard weed gardens are likely to spring up across the country.

6.8% (3,940,000) men use cannabis.

0.2% (95,000) women use cannabis.

14 IN

problem drug users are dependent on cannabis.

More than a third of the users are between

20-29

years of age. Of these, 40% use cannabis charas and 31% use cannabis bhang.

Approximately

68% of cannabis users are found to be dependent.

Cannabis prevalence in provinces:

5.1%

KP: of the population (770,000 in number) SINDH:

4.2% (1 million)

3.1%

PUNJAB: (1.9 million) BALOCHISTAN:

2.8% (156K)

Cannabis is the most commonly used drug, taken by

3.6%

of the population between the ages 15 and 64, or approximately four million people.

SOURCE: ‘DRUG USE IN PAKISTAN 2013 — TECHNICAL SUMMARY REPORT’ BY UNITED NATIONS OFFICE ON DRUGS AND CRIME AND GOVERNMENT OF PAKISTAN

Zehra Qureshi is a law student in Karachi.

She tweets @zehraque

COMMENT

Design(er) Dreams

The design community can play a crucial role in promoting social and environmental responsibility

BY DANISH AZAR ZUBY DESIGN BY SAMRA AAMIR

Every individual has a role to play in society. It can either be positive or negative but collectively these contributions transform into a homogeneous whole and influence the quality of life for society at large. When it comes to promoting social good, some have a greater responsibility than others and among them is the community of ‘designers’ who shape the physical world that we live in.

The term Designers Social Responsibility (DSR), derived from Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR), has been introduced as a formal branch of design education to promote environmentally responsible planning, development, design and construction. The idea is to align business activities with the development of society.

As the word ‘design’ carries such significance, a brief introduction at this point is important. Even though the word is commonly used in our region, it is often misunderstood. A simplistic definition used frequently by design teachers is ‘a problem solv-

ing exercise.’ However, I feel that design, the technical aspect of it, is a much more sophisticated multi-disciplinary activity that relates to the fine arts, science, engineering, social sciences and economics. It is also a creative process that requires specialised training in a specific design discipline.

The term DSR can be interpreted and elaborated to mean quite a few things. But DSR is introduced here to present its three distinct aspects: First, as a part of basic philosophy of design, second, as a part of design academic curriculums and third, as an aspect of social work. The first aspect promotes adherence to a design philosophy in which environmental, social and ethical impacts are as important as aesthetic and commercial prospects. The second aspect refers to promoting a design curriculum in schools and vocational design institutions in which professionals can reimagine their roles and divert their energies towards pro-people, pro-environment and pro-planet strategies.

Lastly, using DSR as a form of social service can be likened to a ‘self-tithing’ scheme. In medieval times ‘tithe’

was the contribution one made to the church. Peasants would set aside 10% of their crops for the poor, while the rich man would allot 10% of his yearly income to feed the poor. Victor Papanek, late designer, educator and advocate for DSR, first mentioned this in 1972, in his book Design for the Real World: “Being designers, we don’t have to pay money in the form of a tithe… Being designers, we can pay by giving ten percent of our crop of ideas and talents to the seventy-five percent of mankind in need… Most of the rest of us can’t do that well, but I think that even the most successful designer can afford one-tenth of his time for the needs of men.”

Unlike developed countries, where a vibrant design culture thrives, underdeveloped countries pay little attention to design education. In our part of the world, design is still taken as simple ‘pattern’ making — a formgiving activity or some aesthetic statement. Pakistan may be walking a tightrope, but the country is rich in DSR and has a thriving philanthropic culture. Some prominent names that have put their money where their mouth is when it comes to DSR include Yasmeen Lari, the first female architect of the country who quit her regular practice and dedicated her life to uplift marginalised communities and heritage sites. Another example is Alex Soffiantini & Associates (ASA Architects), a firm run by Shahid Abdulla and late Arshad Abdulla, which is known for its many pro-bono projects, the most remarkable among them being The Citizens Foundation (TCF) and several hundred other schools that provide subsidised quality education to the underprivileged.

Lahore-based architects, husband and wife, Pervaiz and Sajda Vandal, also work to empower rural commu-

Unlike developed countries, where a vibrant design culture thrives, underdeveloped countries pay little attention to design education. In our part of the world, design is still taken as simple ‘pattern’ making — a form-giving activity or some aesthetic statement nities with a special focus on the revival and rejuvenation of indigenous arts and crafts. Indus Earth, an NGO in Karachi managed by architect Shahid Khan, works along the same lines and helps disadvantaged communities; while Arif Hasan, a world renowned architect and planner, is a design activist known for his propoor, pro-environment presentations, research and activism.

It won’t be incorrect to say that the designer’s community, which is traditionally known for catering to the corporate industry and pushing products designed by and for the privileged, is finally undergoing change.

It is now adopting a holistic view, keeping in mind a secure and peaceful future for all sections of society.

Danish Azar Zuby is a leading interior design professional in the country.

A zero-sum game Tanya Anand’s The Game Changer offers the truth on Pakistani media

BY ZEHRA NABI

Available for Rs595 at Liberty Books.

Author Tanya Anand.

38 JUNE 22-28 2014

Television in Pakistan has come a long way since the launch of PTV in 1964 and now offers a wide range of content from sensationalist rating-driven news shows to drama serials that spawn legions of fans.

But considering the exponential growth of the industry, not enough has been written about it in academic circles. However, The Game Changer: A brief history of television in Pakistan by Tanya Anand — a television and film producer and the former CEO of a media firm — is one of the first attempts to fill that vacuum. The book delineates the history of television in Pakistan, chronicling the post-2000 boom in the media industry and the many ethical concerns that have emerged along the way. It is more of a reference guide than an exhaustive history but nevertheless serves as a starting point considering the paucity of literature on the topic.

One of the recurring themes is the role of Indian media and how it has influenced Pakistani television. In the chapter ‘The Television Revolution,’ Anand writes about the threat posed to Pakistan by the popularity of Indian channels in the country and the entry of private players in the broadcasting industry following the Kargil conflict. She then goes on to describe the advent of Indus Vision, the first private channel in the country, and how various media organisations, which till then had mainly focused on print, began showing signs of interest in television news. Even PTV launched Prime Television UK to cater to the Pakistani diaspora and to counter perspectives on the Zee News Network of India.

What the book lacks, though, is a deeper look at the nature of Indian bias. How did coverage of Kargil differ between the two countries? Was Prime Television a successful venture? These questions are not addressed in depth and perhaps it would have been more effective had

Anand illustrated these points by providing examples of specific content and shows.

Another important development in the Pakistani television industry mentioned in the book is that of the creation of the Pakistan Electronic Media Regularity Authority (PEMRA). Anand shows how PEMRA, as the first regulatory body of its kind in South Asia, has shaped Pakistani television, for better or worse.

She also mentions the ban of Indian channels in 2006 and doesn’t hold back from saying that through this decision PEMRA was denying Pakistanis the right to free flow of information that it should have been protecting. And since this decision came during the regime of General Pervez Musharraf, she also quotes Sylvia Harvey, a British professor of broadcasting policy, who posited in her 2002 book The Media: An introduction, “In countries where the political system of democracy is either not present or exists in fragile conditions, then the media policies, legislation and regulation are likely to represent the views and interests of a ruling political and business elite.”

While Anand highlights the many problems with the media industry, she doesn’t end the book without offering recommendations. Since her background extends to advertising, she keeps in mind ethical issues and the financial concerns producers and advertisers may have. Anand offers advice such as pay-per-view options for Indian channels to policy changes in PEMRA that would potentially improve the existing media landscape. Unfortunately, the power to implement these changes lies in the hands of people who are unlikely to even read these recommendations, let alone follow it.. T Zehra Nabi is a senior subeditor at The Express Tribune web desk.

She tweets @zehranabi

FILM

A solid disappointment The filmmakers of Brick Mansions fail to salvage the movie despite a star cast

BY SAMEEN AMER

The untimely demise of celebrities often generates a lot of interest in their final projects. And that is perhaps the biggest (and quite possibly the only) draw of action thriller Brick Mansions, the last film actor Paul Walker completed prior to his death in a car crash last year.

Brick Mansions takes us to a dystopian Detroit, where the city’s most dangerous criminals are holed up in housing projects known as brick mansions, located in an area cordoned off and abandoned by the government. The drug kingpin Tremaine (RZA) has become its ruthless overlord. But when the city’s mayor, who wants to restore Detroit to its former glory, assigns undercover detective Damien Collier (Paul Walker) with the task of recovering a stolen bomb in the troubled region, the cop sees this as a chance to avenge his father’s death. To infiltrate the brick mansions, Collier has to team up with ex-convict and parkour enthusiast Lino (David Belle), whose girlfriend Lola (Catalina Denis) has been kidnapped by Tremaine. Together they must untangle the web of deceit and save the city from destruction.

The film is written by Luc Besson (the co-writer of the cult hit District 13, the French film on which Brick Mansions is based) and Robert Mark Kamen, who was also behind films such as Taken and Taken 2. The directing duties have been thrust into the hands of first-timer Camille Delamarre (the editor of Taken 2). But instead of producing an exciting romp, the filmmakers have ended up creating a project that falters on almost all counts.

Clichés abound. The film proceeds with action movie mechanics and preposterous antics at every turn. Fights break out every few minutes, and the story primarily exists to cursorily link action sequences, taking us from one combat or chase scene to another. The parkour acrobatics are fun for a while, but with no solid plot to back them up, they soon start to feel redundant.

There are clunky attempts at sociopolitical commentary every now and then, and the narrative arcs of some of the 40 characters — especially its chief villain — are too ham-fisted JUNE 22-28 2014

to be engaging. The jittery editing doesn’t help either. The supporting cast is sub-standard and the interactions of their underwritten characters are tiresome, thanks to the piffle that passes for the movie’s script.

David Belle’s acrobatic moves are impressive, although no degree of athletic agility can make up for a disappointingly bland character. Paul Walker is right at home in the film, even if the film completely lets him down. But as he goes around chasing bad guys, often in (or on) a car, it gets hard not to think of the actor behind the character. Thereon, the proceedings start bordering on uncomfortable.

Ultimately though, Brick Mansions’ biggest flaw is that it just isn’t fun enough, even in the way that silly action movies can be. The film could and should have been more exciting and amusing, but a ridiculous plotline and bad filmmaking choices result in a project that even its charismatic leads cannot salvage.

Rating: Sameen Amer is a Lahore-based freelance writer and critic.

She tweets @Sameen

The (new) rules of

engagement

The future of human resource management is strikingly different from the present

BY SHIRAZ AHMED DESIGN BY OMER ASIM

Traditionally, the primary function of a human resource (HR) manager is to ‘attract, retain, train and separate the talent’. HR personnel use much of their time carrying out tests and interviews for recruitment and selection, conducting employee appraisals, deciding rewards, perks and salaries, and spending millions of dollars in training and development.

But many organisations are now rethinking their human resource management practices in view of technological innovations and changing human dynamics. Here is a look at some of the cutting edge practices being adopted by leading companies of the world.

The hiring criteria: College degrees, even Ivy League ones, high test scores and GPAs won’t guarantee employment in the future. In fact, the trend has already begun: 14% of Google’s team never attended college.

Google’s senior vice president for people’s operations, Laszlo Bock, identified his company’s selection criteria in an interview with The New York Times as follows: • Cognitive ability • Emergent leadership • Humility • Ownership • Expertise This is significantly different from the older hiring criteria, which included: • College degrees • Test scores (SAT, GRE, GMAT etc) • GPA • Interviews

What to expect in these changing market practices ?

1. The Internet is the new résumé Next in line of casualties in the job market would be the ubiquitous résumé or CV. The page-long list of a candidate’s credentials would increasingly be chucked away by future recruiters, says Marketing Strategy Consultant Dorie Clark, in favour of: 42 • Where your name appears on Google search.

JUNE 22-28 2014

• Your contribution to the business world.

• Your social media management skills on Twitter, LinkedIn etc.

• Professional networking that attracts decision-makers.

2. Down with brainteasers How many golf balls can you fit into an airplane? How many gas stations are there in Manhattan? Challenging interview questions that are meant to judge your acumen but may have no ‘correct’ answer are now deemed useless by Google, which famously petrified job candidates with brainteasers for years.

Instead, questions like “Give me an example of a time when you solved an analytically difficult problem” are now asked as part of behavioural interviewing. The interviewer gets to see how they actually interacted in a real-world situation, and gauges their level of expertise.

The changes are not just limited to the recruitment process, but extend to other aspects of talent management as well.

1. Say it like it is Many leading companies, such as Microsoft, do not have evaluations through traditional appraisals and ranking systems anymore, as it is thought to kill creativity. Instead, they promote a culture of constant coaching and holding honest conversations with their employees.

2. New-age training Training and development of employees that typically costs millions of dollars is increasingly being replaced by the more cost-effective Massive Open Online Courses, which also have the benefit of being universally accessible. Yahoo! recently collaborated with Coursera to offer Computer Science courses to its employees at a subsidised fee of $100 per student.

3. Satisfaction revisited HR professionals formulate strategies to retain and engage employees by offering them lucrative salaries and benefits.

But despite reasonable financial packages, a growing number of employees still look for new avenues. This is because money and perks are not enough for employee satisfaction; research shows there has to be ‘meaningful’ work.

Recommendations for job candidates: • Build your value proposition by exploring your talents and pitching your strength to the prospective employer.

• Engage in volunteer work that builds your strength.

• Showcase your work on the Internet, for eg on SlideShare, LinkedIn, Instagram and blogs.

Shiraz Ahmed teaches at leading business schools of Karachi and is a corporate facilitator and a public speaker. He tweets @shirazwasif