Written by: Nayha Jehangir Khan
Posted on: August 24, 2020 |
Oscar Wilde famously remarked, “Life imitates art far more than art imitates life”. One is reminded of such a visceral and artistic experience watching director Hamza Bangash’s films, like Dia, Stray Dogs Come Out At Night and 1978. The storylines of each film create a panoramic view of the stigmatised, marginalised and often overlooked social traumas deeply rooted in our communities. Currently based in Karachi, Bangash is an alumnus of both the Locarno and Asian Filmmakers Academy, and he is unapologetic about his artistic practice.
We can identify Bangash’s practice as art resistance, using short-form filmmaking as a powerful way to highlight subject matter avoided by mainstream reporting. He challenges audiences to step outside their comfort zones and creates a constructive dialogue on important issues. The visuals that Bangash creates, tremble with a sense of dread and suspense. His characters unearth emotions that are difficult but essential in building a compassionate sense of humanity. He spoke to Youlin about his artistic process as well as what compels him to choose and depict particular stories
HB: For me, cinema is storytelling, and so my choices as a director and writer are informed by my interest in championing narratives of individuals who find themselves pushed outside of the mainstream. I am passionate about telling stories from communities that do not have the benefit of seeing themselves reflected in the media landscape. This is because I am cognizant of the impact that telling these stories, authentically told, can have on the audience.
Cinema acts as a reflection of reality, and if you cannot see your reality on-screen and if you don’t have heroes to look up to, then you feel rejected. I am trying, in my own way, to bring people together through the narratives I choose to explore. To put front and center those protagonists that are considered to be at the periphery. I want to create a new kind of hero.
HB: I don’t think there is one particular moment that I can state as transformative. I grew up in a household that encouraged the arts and education. My first brush with storytelling was as a child, when my mother used to hold puppet shows and stage plays for our birthdays. I started with visual art, moved to theatre as a teenager and then began pursuing cinema about four years ago. What’s changed for me over the years, is the medium that I choose to tell stories. What I love about cinema is that it combines so many art forms: music, performance, visual art, and writing. Growing up between Canada and Pakistan feels like being sort of a permanent immigrant, and it might have made me more inclined to look at others who are on the outside of the mainstream.
HB: I would say the biggest challenge in making cinema in Pakistan is the lack of trained crew and technical facilities. We have very few crew members in Pakistan who are trained in making films, and those that are, tend to work in narrative commercials/films, due to the greater fees they can command. We don’t really have any established film schools, so many of our best filmmakers are trained from abroad.
Making cinema on low-budgets that can compete internationally is a huge challenge. For me, it has been a process of trial and error. From one film to the next, I am usually learning on the job, seeing what works and what doesn’t! On 1978, I learned the importance of the costume and hair/make-up department. These are both areas of filmmaking that I hadn’t had to worry about before, as my films prior to this one were often contemporary. But in the 70’s clothes, hair and make-up, made a huge difference in the story!
HB: For 1978, I would want people to know the massive debt that is owed to the Goan-Christian community of Pakistan, for their contribution to the musical culture of the country. The Goan Christian community were our first bards, they were the original rockstars, and went on to become the one’s who trained the majority of pop stars in the ’90s and 2000’s.
Due to the growing intolerance after the cultural shift in the ’70s, much of the community emigrated to the US and Canada. I think it’s imperative that we recognize those who stayed behind, who kept up their amazing work, despite the challenges they faced. The film is inspired by the legendary Norman D’Souza, who was considered a rock-god in the ’70s. Norman continues to perform today, with his group, The In-Time Band. We even got them to do a song for our film!
Bangash concluded by saying, “I think there are pockets of incredible resilience in Pakistan, artists who despite all odds, persevere, and this film is for them.”
Often filmmakers have struggled in Pakistan, negotiating within censorship limitations, facing opposition from opposing factions and working to change tradition and predictability. Though the Pakistani film industry, especially independent cinema, is still developing, seeing films like 1978 mapping out forgotten stories of the past, and still being able to resonate with a modern young audience, shows that there are some signs of progression. The screenings have been discrete and have been hosted online as their sensitive subject matter does not have space as yet to be screened for the general public of Pakistan. But perhaps in the near future, Bangash will be able to take these films to larger screens, so that the larger public may relate and resonate with them.
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