Jhoomar - A Pakistani film's review

When watching a flick by film-maker Syed Noor you can at least be sure of one thing — that the storyline will be sensible and coherent. Jhoomar, his latest offering starring Saima (no surprises there) and Moammar Rana may not be a technical stunner with well-packaged glitz and slickly choreographed catchy numbers, but it has a plot that keeps you fairly engaged throughout its running time of three hours. Partly because it is inspired by real-life events, according to the film’s publicity.

The story written by Syed Noor revolves around Gulaab Bibi (Saima), a village belle who falls in love with a dashing army officer Shahnawaz (Momey) posted in her village along the Pakistan-India border. Shahnawaz hails from a well-off wadera family that owns, among other things, an imposing haveli complete with a done-to-death, two-way staircase in the entrance hall that serves as a vantage point for theatrical entries and exits by different characters throughout the film.

Anyway, coming back to Shahnawaz’s family, both his brothers and a heavy-duty, bedecked sister-in-law put up serious opposition to his marriage plans to Gulaab. Instead, they have their sights set on his brother’s glamorous sister-in-law (played by the late actress Aleena who recently made news with her tragic death) as a much more suitable match for him.

But Shahnawaz foils their plans by bringing the newlywed Gulaab to the haveli much to the ire of his family before setting off for a romantic honeymoon. Trouble rears its ugly head when Gulaab is supposedly found to be unable to have children and his family puts pressure on Shahnawaz to marry Aleena for the sake of carrying on the lineage. The poor girl is eventually kicked out of the house after being blamed falsely of having an affair and in a bid to commit suicide, a devastated Gulaab consequently finds herself on the wrong side of the Wagah Border. She is whisked off to jail after interrogation.

What follows in the second half of the film is the metamorphosis of Saima from a naïve village girl to a defiant and courageous larger-than-life heroine who braves horrific circumstances in prison to eventually redeem herself in the eyes of Shahnawaz, who as it so turns out, is the one suffering from infertility and not her.

In spite of a strong storyline, Jhoomar has its share of technical and conceptual bloopers. For instance, my sensibilities failed to digest the enormous and much-older-looking Saima as a potential love interest for Momey’s athletic-looking army officer. She looked a misfit for Gulaab’s character while twirling her dupatta or biting her finger while acting out the demure village belle. But her transition in the later half of the film makes you forgive both her and Noor; for it takes the amazonian Saima to fight off the advances of first the jail superintendent (played by Shafqat Cheema, I was waiting for him to make his appearance as the villain) and jail inmate Nandni.

Saima manages to look much more pretty in the later half with minimal make-up. Momey’s six-month-long honeymoon vacation is inexplicable as is his job description — he wears the badge of an army major yet is always seen hanging around the border fence. The camera is extremely jerky around the initial one hour into the film or perhaps one’s eyes get accustomed to the shaky frames afterwards. Some shots are abrupt and edited poorly leaving one wondering what the connection is. And every time Aleena walks into Shahnawaz’s ancestral haveli, the Indian film Main Hoon Na’s background score that complemented Sushmita Sen’s entry, was played which made it seem rather frivolous and unnecessary. Aleena’s English accent is also quite atrocious: “Theess iz my strutaway insselt,” she says when Momey gives her the cold shoulder.

Saima’s Gulaab calls Momey’s Shahnawaz ‘Jhoomar’ during the entire length of the film after he gifts her a gold jhoomar. It sounds quite awkward if you ask me. When Saima’s in-laws manhandle her and chop off her luxurious hair, she emerges in a dishevelled yet well-cut bob rather than an unkempt mop of hair. Then there are also the Indian prisoners who converse in fluent Urdu and a Pakistani police truck transporting Saima to an Indian prison! A plastic doll in the garbs of a Hindu deity in prison also comes across as quite absurd and an eyesore. The film-maker, it seems, is not as aware as the audiences of Hindu culture, thanks to the cable TV.

In the last few scenes of the film, the revolver in Saima’s hand miraculously transforms into a mouser in the blink of an eye. The comedy scenes between Irfan Khoosat who plays Saima’s father, and his servant are literally forced into the script. One also fails to understand the great hullabaloo about Momey having to marry Aleena when he has a younger unmarried brother. The bloodbath in the end is typical of a Pakistani film and a quick way to deal with the baddies and dispense poetic justice.

However, one does note some attention to detail paid by Syed Noor as Saima’s wardrobe is refreshingly stylish. She wears simple clothes when she lives in the village and lovely designer stuff when married. The scenes with violence are well picturised without being sleazy. However, the content may be unsuitable for young viewers. All extras cast as Indian prisoners are dark complexioned, perhaps Noor’s attempt to bring a mark of distinction. Saima’s chopped-off hair is also shown to take a year to grow back and her histrionics are quite convincing while facing the odds in jail and her fight sequence with the inmate, Nandni. The scene when she returns to her native village after undergoing immense trauma is also quite touching.

The lyrics by Aqeel Ruby and Rukhsana Noor are melodious but forgettable. Shabnam Majeed’s voice sounds beautiful but does not suit Saima. Period. The songs are situational and there are thankfully no item numbers.

Technically speaking, one can’t compare Jhoomar with Khuda Kay Liye or even Mohabbataan Sachiyaan. However, one feels Noor must be commended for using a theme that elevates the status of a woman to a gutsy, spirited individual rather than a licentious tart as espoused in numerous flicks such as Ghundi Run and Wehshi Haseena doing the rounds in the Lahore film circuit. The audiences that Jhoomar seeks to snare will definitely be educated with a bold theme of male infertility and for them Noor has also packed in ample flavour of rustic simplicity. For instance the dhamaal number filed on Saima was shot superbly.

But it would do Syed Noor and his film viewers tremendous good if he looks beyond Saima for his upcoming ventures and starts investing more money onto the film’s editing, mixing and camera work. After all, talent like Noor’s should make it to broader horizons.