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Finally, finally, finally I get to see "Zindagi Tamasha", a brainchild of the immensely talented Pakistani director, Sarmad Sultan Khoosat, that had not seen the light of day in cinema screens across the country due to its criticism and depiction of the mainstream religious clergy dominating the socio-political spectrum of the country.

Unfortunately though, the only medium graced by this movie, a considerable loss for all associated with the creation of this gem, was You Tube. Khoosat, in his introductory note, is visibly emotional as he lets his creation out of a cage imposed upon it by fundamentalists that have, for decades, proved to be an impediment to free artistic growth and expression in the country.

"Zindagi Tamasha" depicts an aging man who still has an air of youthful exuberance about him along-with a genuinely affectionate heart trapped in a quagmire of criticism and societal rejection when a video of him replicating a childhood dance to his friends is posted on social media.

"Zindagi Tamasha" depicts the human need to categorize events and characters into "right" and "wrong", "good" and "evil". It talks about how an intellectually starved society has no space to cultivate acceptance and fluidity of thought, emotions and opinions. Rather, every individual is expected to fit a mold, a pre-conceived caricature of righteous and non-righteous beings. In this belief, a transgender individual is an inherently evil being while an aged man who recites religious hymns is inherently pious, devoid of any interest in activities that do not fit the ideals of a dominant sect.

Voices like Sarmad Khoosat are key in the preservation of artistic expressionism in a country that has, in recent years, lost its voice out of fear and repudiation. In a spine-chilling scene a typical Molvi (cleric) unabashedly blackmails the protagonist, Rahat Khawaja, in a crowded gathering by saying, "Lagaun naara?" ("Should I raise the allegation?"), referring to the weaponization of archaic blasphemy laws prevalent in the country that to this day are used to stifle dissenting voices and minds.

A true gem of Pakistani cinema and a beacon of hope for independent, thought-provoking film-making in a country that is in dire need of it.

"May everything come true. May they believe. And may they laugh at their own passions...for what they call passion is not really the energy of the soul but merely friction between the soul and the outside world."

Tarkovsky's "Stalker", much like his other films, requires patience and depth from its viewer. It blends existentialism, poetry and mystery with unparalleled cinematic vision, profound dialogue and revolutionary cinematography.

"Stalker" depicts a dystopian world where ordinary people, increasingly frustrated by the mundanity of their life and the consequences of their choices seek the help of stalkers- guides who lead them to "The Zone", a forbidden, uninhabited region borne out of a meteorite collision. It is rumoured that "The Zone" holds within it a unique place that grants people fulfillment of their deepest desires.

Though Tarkovsky's plots hold immense "action" potential in them, he forever remains true to his ideology- that any opportunity to explore human consciousness and emotions through the lens of cinema must not be wasted. The result of which is excessive durations of silence, philosophical monologues and haunting depictions of verdant scenery that in Tarkovsky's cinematography almost always symbolizes grief and solitude.

"Stalker" talks about mans fallibility- his constant disconnect with his own self and the deeply ingrained illusions he holds for emotions such as passion, desire and love. It is a criticism on the selfishness and greed that hardens us as soon as we are exposed to the impurity of this world- how it turns a writer into a despicable creature who, out of desperation, seeks to buy inspiration, a scientist who lets vengeance blind his empiricism, a stalker who is ready to let go of his family to serve a purpose that eludes him everytime.

Truly one of Tarkovsky's most appealing works.

Hong Sang-soo's visually astounding piece of cinema has the potential to turn into a sleep-fest for many viewers who are not used to extended sequences of silence and a lingering, loitering focus of the cameras on sombre landscapes and city streets. But those who possess a keen eye for the subtle meaning of cinema will find in these visual depictions a gentle erosion of love and a growing, rebelling, unstable acceptance.

The film depicts a young actress in Young-hee (Kim Min-hee) as she meanders along parks and pathways of foreign cities, has coffee in countryside restaurants with old friends and desperately tries to find for herself a hotel out at sea where she could spend some time letting go of her erratic, volatile longing for a recent lover.

Sang-soo lets his landscapes blend in naturally and does not resort much to color grading thus making it very difficult for viewers to not connect with the journey and emotions of the protagonist. We can feel Young-hee's admiration of the quietude in her sombre, spiritual walks in the park and her excitement on beholding the frozen lake. We can experience her detachment and withdrawal to her friends' lives and words as her resonance with generally accepted notions of love gradually fades away. We can accompany her in her dreams as she sleeps carefree on the beach drowning herself in the gentle snore of the sea.

A profound movie that in itself is a dissection of the breakdown of love and attachment.