‘But MJN has absolutely nothing, except some good-looking people trying their hand at things they are completely unqualified to do. This includes those behind the cameras who may or may not have the looks to match the incompetence of those in front of the lens.’
‘Perhaps the only saving grace for MJN was the fact that its release coincided with that of Pari, a horror film that only managed to scare the hell out of its investors. Pari also failed to last till the first Monday, with the film being removed from many multiplexes even without there being a stay order.’
‘The last resort for any South Asian flick, the music, matches the film in how it is an amalgamation of nothingness more than anything else.’
‘Last week, we dubbed this weekend critical for Lollywood. And while Allahyar might’ve been the saving grace, Pari and MJN have been the vanguards of absolute disasters for the local film industry.’
Last week’s release Maan Jao Na received a stay order from court owing to the presence of songs that the film does not have copyrights over. EMI Pakistan, which has the copyrights for those songs, said in a press release:
“We, at EMI Pakistan, want to clarify that Muhammad Khalid Ali of Crew Films Motion Pictures and producer of film Maan Jao Na has used three of our songs in his movie without our permission. These songs intellectual property copyrights are controlled and owned by EMI Pakistan and the said matter is already being heard in our legal courts.”
The songs in question include Bijli Bhari Hai Meray Ang Ang Mein and Sweety, which according to the film’s writer Asma Nabeel, were included “to revive old Pakistani songs in our film” and for which the “authors and composers of the songs” were paid.
While the issue should be resolved through due legal process, for those that have had to endure Maan Jao Na over the past week, the stay order perhaps came a week too late.
Unfortunately, neither the stay order that came nor the one that never did, was successful in preventing the film from being released.
Last week’s satirical piece in The Dependent summed up MJN in its entirety with the headline ‘Rao Anwar hiding at local Maan Jao Na screening’ implying that the film’s screening is the safest place to be in Karachi because “no one would show up there.”
Continuing from last week, this Sunday’s editorial in The Dependent also urges everyone to support the so called revival of the local film industry by ensuring that one doesn’t go and watch films like MJN.
Perhaps the only saving grace for MJN was the fact that its release coincided with that of Pari, a horror film that only managed to scare the hell out of its investors. Pari also failed to last till the first Monday, with the film being removed from many multiplexes even without there being a stay order.
But MJN, described with uncanny precision by it leading cast as a ‘disaster comedy’, was a catastrophic attempt to cash in on something that has worked for Pakistani filmmakers recently. If you thought Parchi – or even Chupan Chupai – was bad, MJN will make you beg for another watch of those movies, and also make you wonder why there isn’t a quality test before films are allowed to be unleashed on the audience.
15 minutes into the film you realise the title implores you to come and watch it. It is only after you muster the audacity to sit through its entirety that you understand that ‘Maan Jao Na’ in the context of the film meant something even more ridiculous.
More than convincing the audience to come watch the film, which the final production didn’t quite have a realistic shot at, Maan Jao Na implores the film’s female protagonist Rania (Elnaaz Norouzi) to let go of her feminist ideals and embrace the patriarchal norms that she has been bellowing against for the first half of the film.
Other regressive ideals that MNJ reinforces is how it’s seemingly impossible for a man and woman to be friends, and that any man who is buying a woman’s quest for independence sans marriage is only doing so in the hope of landing the ‘catch’ later on.
This in a nutshell is what MJN tries to convey to the audience, the cast, and most obviously to itself, so that it can justify its existence.
Of course, with the Pakistani film industry barely coming up with anything meaningful, one is absolutely willing to embrace regression with arms wide open, should it be accompanied with a sufficiently high entertainment coefficient.
But MJN has absolutely nothing, except some good looking people trying their hand at things they are completely unqualified to do. This includes those behind the cameras who may or may not have the looks to match the incompetence of those in front of the lens.
Even so, Elnaaz Norouzi, does have her moments. Adeel Chaudhry does exhibit similar skill level in acting as he does in music, which of course isn’t saying much. Meanwhile, the varying acting potentials of Ayaz Samoo, Hajra Yamin and Ghana Ali are buried in the poorly written characters given to them.
Furthermore, the last resort for any South Asian flick, the music, matches the film in how it is an amalgamation of nothingness more than anything else. And of course, anything meaningful that it might’ve offered now has a copyright infringement sword hanging over it.
Last week, we dubbed this weekend critical for Lollywood. And while Allahyar might’ve been the saving grace, Pari and MJN have been the vanguards of absolute disasters for the local film industry.
