There was a feeling that the 2007 cinema-revivalist flick Khuda Kay Liye (In The Name of God) could serve as a rallying cry for a movie theatre or two in Islamabad at least in name. But it was not to be. Islamabad has the dubious distinction of being perhaps, the only major global capital that is without such entertainment rendezvous. In fact, much like Sahir Ludhianvis stirring 1975 Kabhi Kabhi lyrics in Amitabhs golden voice it now seems like a gone case:
Magar yeh ho na saka aur ab ye aalam hai
Ke tu nahin, tera gham, teri justajoo bhi nahin
(But it didnt happen and now life is on verge
That I dont have you neither sorrow nor hope)
One may be a true blue Islooite but such a huge missing link in the otherwise much fancied metro mien of the capital is incomprehensible, not to say, indefensible.
Pithy excuses such as affordability of cable television and cheap copies of latest movies (as well as old) cannot possibly explain away the lack of cinema houses.
At the risk of sounding clichd, there is simply no substitute for the lure and magic of the big screen. A mini buff, that is how I have known it since my father took me to watch Ten Commandments in downtown Colombo three decades ago.
Even though the public, especially in Islamabad, is regularly treated to entertainment by all sorts of players, including but not limited to politicians, generals and cricketers, it is crying out for the real thing.
God knows how starved Islooites are for lack of movie houses, which entails not just feasting ones eyes on works of art but a jolly good outing with friends and families.
In more tolerant societies, they are also a meeting place for those seeking peace of mind from the cacophony and clutter of business life. The magic of the big screen offers them a welcome diversion and perhaps, recreation at the same time.
The last time one had occasion to partake the excitement in Islamabad was in 1995, when a cinema of the now-defunct National Film Development Corporation (NAFDEC) screened big budgeted Jo Darr Gaya Woh Marr Gaya (The One Whos Scared Is A Goner).
In this day and age, Jo Darr Gaya could have had different connotations, for instance, the present and clear danger (read terrorism) would have thrown down the gauntlet to aspiring cinegoers to watch the action in the theatre.
Even so, Jo Darr Gaya was billed as the movie that would revive cinema in Pakistan.
Many in the audience however, appeared to have ventured just to watch how the beautiful Atiqa Odho, who was, by then, a household name thanks to her television prowess, would fare on the big screen.
Small wonder that the hype, in the first place, was owed to Ms Odhos decision to draw on the fantasy of silver screen, which was projected by many in the film industry as proof that not everyone in Lollywood was from the forbidden place (a metaphor used to describe uncouth women, usually of easy virtue, from Lahores red light zone).
Yet, like the forbidden fruit, Lollywood could do (and did) little to sustain the infusion of new spirit on the back of respectability. But the movie houses were packed for as long as the fun lasted, if only to prove that people will take half a chance to go to the theatre if the fare was worthwhile.
What dominates the debate on the supposed lack of interest in Islamabad where cinegoers are concerned is the collapse of Pakistani film industry as it were.
While there has been no dispute on Lollywoods abysmal state of affairs for nearly two decades (success of three or four movies in the interim proving little more than an aberration), often forgotten is the fact that cinegoers in Pakistan are neither restricted to nor dependent on watchable Lollywood fare for recreational purposes.
In fact, it would be safe to assume that Pakistani movie buffs and this is no sweeping generalisation do not watch the local fare because of the obvious decline in standards. Therefore, the argument that there are no cinemas in Islamabad and any wannabe cinegoer is disinterested because of the Pakistani film industrys failure to sway viewers is rather facile.
The fact is they would go and watch provided the fare is good. It doesnt matter if it isnt Pakistani; they will more than indulge Bollywood (a subject deserving of a separate debate) and Hollywood.
I dare say, Iranian cinema alone will hold them spellbound. Past history, as those cinegoers who patronised Melody and NAFDEC cinemas would testify, is a guide.
With Kamran Lashari as city manager, there was a glimmer of hope the anomaly would be addressed. His exit took care of that, too.
The writer is a newspaper editor and can be reached at kaamyabi@gmail.com