Hammad Khan, director of Slackistan – the coming-of-age film about a bunch of bored, rich young Pakistanis cruising around Islamabad with nothing to do – could have probably seen it coming.
Why? Because Slackistan contains the words "Taliban" and "lesbian", swear words in English and Urdu, scenes showing characters drinking (filmed with fake alcohol, incidentally) and a joke about beards (as in "my beard is longer than your beard") made between characters talking hypothetically about a fancy dress party. These are not the CBFC's only objections, but the main ones it highlighted.
The decision has left Slackistan fans on Facebook – many of whom haven't actually seen the film because they live in Pakistan – hugely disappointed. They're calling it "unbelievable hypocrisy", "narrow-minded rubbish" and the decision of an "insecure nation".
The fans' annoyance is fuelled partly by the fact that they've been waiting months to see the film, but mostly because of the apparent discrepancies of the censorship board, who approve Hollywood, Lollywood and most Bollywood films (the content of which is often far more risqué than Slackistan) for mainstream cinema release with no censorship at all. So why ban Slackistan?
"Maybe the establisment's view is that young Pakistanis saying words like 'Taliban' and 'lesbian' represent a more potent threat than the bullets and bombs that are finding increasing legitimacy in the country," says Khan. "Slackistan might be seen as an unusual film and a bit closer to home than Hollywood. But it's easier to get away with violence and murder in Pakistan than it is to legitimately release a film."
Slackistan isn't very politically charged. Khan insists it's not a "statement" film but a fiction about growing up. Essentially, not a lot happens; there's a lot of procrastination and navel-gazing, which shows just how aimless its characters are meant to be.
I've seen the film twice now, and as far as the CBFC's grounds for censorship are concerned, there are only two scenes where the characters are shown drinking alcohol – once at a party, and once at home when a servant brings in whisky. There are no sexual scenes at all, and the only violent scenes are mild boy-scrapes over money; the "lesbian" and "Taliban" references are throwaway comments, not used repeatedly. It's disappointing that a film set in Pakistan, directed by a Pakistani, acted by Pakistanis and filmed in Pakistan can't be seen by people who want to see it the most – Pakistanis themselves.
Slackistan, of course, isn't the first movie that's been censored by the CBFC, which says its job is to "eliminate public exhibition of a film or any part thereof which is likely to impair accepted moral standards ... hurt national sentiments ... undermine Islam or ridicule any religious sect, caste [or] creed". Last year, it banned spoof Osama movie Tere Bin Laden, and it will probably ban more.
Meanwhile, Slackistan has drawn in crowds at film festivals in New York, London, Goa, San Francisco and Abu Dhabi. Last week, screenings of the film held at London's Institute of Contemporary Arts sold out.
At another showing, held four days ago in aid of charity, Khan took part in a director's Q&A session with me. The audience – largely although not exclusively made up of young British and American Pakistanis – loved the film.
The youngest in the audience, not yet in his teens, made an interesting observation: "Aren't the characters all slackers because they don't have any role models? Surely that's the point? That they need role models?"
He's right – it is the point. Pakistan needs people like Khan and all those involved in the making of his film to uphold its creative scene at a time when the rest of the country is falling apart. Censoring them won't achieve anything – as Khan plans to prove. His fans are urging him to release the movie online or organise small private screenings in Pakistan (which technically wouldn't be the same as showing it in public in the cinema).
"I'm more determined than ever to show Slackistan in Pakistan – and if we have to go underground to do it then we'll go underground," he says, though it's still too soon for him to figure out how. "I feel sad for the future of the Pakistani film scene and culture, because if you can't express yourself freely then what can you do?"
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