 Lahore, July 31 - Why would I drive 4-1/2 hours to see a
Pakistani movie?
Well, for starters, the only movie theater in Islamabad,
Pakistan's capital, was torched by a Sunni mob during sectarian
riots four years ago.
But there were other reasons for the trek. I wanted to attend
the premier of "Khuda ke Liye" or "In the Name of God," a movie
about the religious rift wrenching Pakistan.
The film is being hailed in some segments of Pakistani society
as the most important cinematic event in memory. The other draw
was the venue: the DHA Cinema, a world-class movie theater, had
just opened its doors for the elite of Lahore in "Defense," a
posh neighborhood run by the military.
As the title suggests, the movie is about Islam and the battle
between two polarized groups – modernized elites carrying the
banner of "enlightened moderation" and radicals with their
"jihad" – both had claims to the religion.
I took a cab from the house where I was staying. As we pulled
up to the theater, the cabbie was as excited as I was. "The
last time I saw crowds like this," he bubbled, "was when
'Titanic' came to town."
My initial attempts to get tickets for the premičre had failed.
"In the Name of God" had been sold out for weeks in advance.
But there were two showings, one at 9 p.m. and one at 3 p.m.
(Bruce Willis in "Live Free or Die Hard" was on at 6 p.m.) I
might score a ticket to the matinee, I was told, by just
showing up.
I swallowed hard at the price: 250 rupees ($4.15) – ten times
that of a regular movie ticket. Once inside, I found a packed
house of some 500 immaculately dressed Lahoris, munching on
buttered popcorn, bouncing in reclining seats, and enjoying the
digital sound system.
For many Pakistanis – or at least those in this theater – the
movie offers an explanation for the unrest around them.
"I had been dying to see this movie," Sara Malik, a 17-year-old
student, dressed in jeans and a powder-pink T-shirt told me
after the movie. "It's an amazing story, because it explains
what really happens behind things like the Lal Masjid [Red
Mosque]," she said, with nods of agreement by nearby school
friends. The violent weeklong battle between religious
militants and the Pakistan Army this month in Islamabad was
unnerving for the entire country and unlike anything the youth
of the country had ever witnessed.
 Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf reportedly had the first
private screening of the movie right here. He supposedly became
an instant fan, and he has seen it twice since. After seeing
it, I understood why a movie patronized by the president could
also play across the country to packed halls without ever
having to go through the strict and powerful state censor
board.
The movie centers around an upper-middle class Pakistani
family, the kind whose stories the director Shoaib Mansoor – a
successful age-old hand in Pakistan state media – made a name
for himself portraying in popular soap operas in the 1980s. The
story of two musician brothers – one studies music in Chicago
and the other becomes a Taliban fighter in Afghanistan
following the American invasion – is a fantastical tale that
warns its audience of the threat of Islamic radicalism to
Pakistanis.
The inspiration for the movie, Mr. Mansoor writes, came from
Junaid Jamshed, the former lead singer for Pakistan's most
successful rock band, Vital Signs. Like the lead character in
the movie, Mr. Jamshed turned from rock star to mullah after
2001.
Jamshed was once a joyous icon for the Western-looking youth of
the 1980s, after the Soviet-Afghan War and the Islamic military
rule of Gen. Zia-ul-Haq came to an end. But six years ago, he
turned a corner and quickly became one of the most high-profile
Islamic preachers associated with the Tablighi Jamaat, a Muslim
missionary group that spans the globe.
A metaphor for the segment of society that was rejecting
Western influence in a time of war, Jamshed grew a full beard
and swapped his tight jeans and T-shirts for a more
nationalistic salwar kameez. He dedicated himself to spreading
the word of the Koran to the masses and preaching about the
evils of music.
Mansoor, who was a close friend and had helped propel Vital
Signs to mega-stardom, was disturbed by Jamshed's
transformation. "It really shook me badly," the director told a
local magazine before the movie premiered. "I couldn't believe
God could hate the two most beautiful things he has given to
mankind ... music and painting."
"I felt that a confused man like Junaid had no right to confuse
thousands of his youthful followers," he said.
The movie is also being touted as the revival of Pakistani
cinema, which has been a casualty of increasing religious
militancy in the country. Abdul Rashid Ghazi of the Red Mosque,
for example, made one of his last anti-vice stands against the
release of "In the Name of God." Mr. Ghazi called the movie
blasphemous and anti-Islamic. "We won't allow this," he warned
the government earlier this month.
Ghazi was killed a few days after uttering those words at the
hands of the Pakistani military, and the movie is now showing
all over the Punjab province, the Pakistan Army's stronghold,
in the city of Karachi the financial capital, and a few
well-to-do surrounding towns in Sindh. It is unlikely to make
its way west to the provinces bordering Afghanistan and Iran.
The uncensored movie is not only likely to be rejected by the
provincial governments led by Islamist parties, but also by the
Pashtun and Balochi tribes themselves, who are portrayed as
violent, cunning, and chauvinistic religious fanatics in the
movie.
I drove back to Islamabad the next day and violence broke out
at the Red Mosque again. The capital saw its second suicide
bombing of the month. For a moment, I was tempted to go back to
the theater in Lahore. At least there, I could find a clear, if
simplistic, explanation for the tragic panic unfolding in the
city and the country.
(Content sourced from the Christian Science Monitor)
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