Pakistani cinema often grapples with the weight of societal commentary, and In Flames is no exception. Like many of its predecessors, the film ambitiously attempts to address multiple societal issues but falls into the familiar trap of trying to do too much, leaving each theme underexplored. While it frames itself as a mirror to the regressive values and harsh realities of Pakistani society, it offers little beyond surface-level depictions of these issues.
Simply showing societal ills is not enough to create compelling cinema. The film provides no fresh insights or deeper analysis-what it presents are occurrences well-known to anyone living in Pakistan. Without any meaningful exploration, the social commentary remains hollow, a missed opportunity to offer audiences a more profound understanding of the culture it critiques. (I would like to add, however, that in all my 40 years of living in Karachi, I haven't heard of a single incident where a brick was thrown through the window of a car simply because a woman was driving. I fear that hyperbole is being employed to elicit pity from Western audiences eager to shed a tear or two.)
The film's central irony-that the family's abuser is also its protector-has the potential to be a powerful narrative device. However, it's disappointingly underutilized. Over the course of its two-hour runtime, this concept remains stagnant, failing to evolve or provide any substantial commentary on the plight of women in such situations. Instead of delving into the complexities of this dynamic, the story remains content to merely restate it.
Adding to the film's shortcomings is the dialogue. Much of the Urdu feels like a literal translation of English expressions, resulting in stilted and unnatural lines that fail to resonate. These missteps in language strip the characters of authenticity, further detracting from the film's impact.
One more point I'd like to add-though I could be wrong-is that the film seemed to carry undertones of classism. The only two male characters who weren't depicted as horrendous were the metaphorical "white savior," a Canadian-bred, "civilized" Pakistani, and an educated lawyer. This contrast felt problematic, especially when marginalized individuals, like rickshaw drivers, were portrayed as morally detestable. Predatory behavior toward women is not confined to any one class, and it's crucial to approach such depictions with care. Letting personal biases seep into the narrative risks perpetuating harmful stereotypes.
In the end, In Flames comes across as disjointed and incohesive, weighed down by one-dimensional representations. Its attempt at horror, unfortunately, falls well short of the mark. In a post-Jordan Peele era, where many films effectively blend horror with real-world societal issues, In Flames fails to succeed on either front.
Simply showing societal ills is not enough to create compelling cinema. The film provides no fresh insights or deeper analysis-what it presents are occurrences well-known to anyone living in Pakistan. Without any meaningful exploration, the social commentary remains hollow, a missed opportunity to offer audiences a more profound understanding of the culture it critiques. (I would like to add, however, that in all my 40 years of living in Karachi, I haven't heard of a single incident where a brick was thrown through the window of a car simply because a woman was driving. I fear that hyperbole is being employed to elicit pity from Western audiences eager to shed a tear or two.)
The film's central irony-that the family's abuser is also its protector-has the potential to be a powerful narrative device. However, it's disappointingly underutilized. Over the course of its two-hour runtime, this concept remains stagnant, failing to evolve or provide any substantial commentary on the plight of women in such situations. Instead of delving into the complexities of this dynamic, the story remains content to merely restate it.
Adding to the film's shortcomings is the dialogue. Much of the Urdu feels like a literal translation of English expressions, resulting in stilted and unnatural lines that fail to resonate. These missteps in language strip the characters of authenticity, further detracting from the film's impact.
One more point I'd like to add-though I could be wrong-is that the film seemed to carry undertones of classism. The only two male characters who weren't depicted as horrendous were the metaphorical "white savior," a Canadian-bred, "civilized" Pakistani, and an educated lawyer. This contrast felt problematic, especially when marginalized individuals, like rickshaw drivers, were portrayed as morally detestable. Predatory behavior toward women is not confined to any one class, and it's crucial to approach such depictions with care. Letting personal biases seep into the narrative risks perpetuating harmful stereotypes.
In the end, In Flames comes across as disjointed and incohesive, weighed down by one-dimensional representations. Its attempt at horror, unfortunately, falls well short of the mark. In a post-Jordan Peele era, where many films effectively blend horror with real-world societal issues, In Flames fails to succeed on either front.