The Pakistani movie Playboy was released in September 1978. Filmed on location in the United Kingdom, it was a blockbuster, running for more than 54 weeks in Karachi.
Nadeem was the movie’s headliner and in the absence of his usual matinee shadow Shabnam, he was supported by the up-and-coming starlet Babra Sharif. Shamim Ara, the beautiful actress-turned-director, was behind the camera and M Ashraf, by this time the most in-demand music director in the industry, was in charge of the music.
Playboy was filmed in London and is an early take on what has now become a familiar feature of popular film and literature: the diaspora story.
Tariq aka Tony (Nadeem) has gone to the UK to study and work. His family believes he will return within a few years to marry and settle down in Pakistan. They are dismayed, however, when his friend Jamshed aka Jimmy (Asif Raza Mir) informs them that he has no intention whatsoever of returning.
Especially upset is Ayesha (Babra Sharif), who has been promised in marriage to Tariq but whom she has never met. Jamshed reassures her that though Tariq has not married a local English lass, he is a “complete playboy”.
Ayesha accompanies Jamshed back to the UK where she stays with a rich relative, Baig (Talish) and his off-the-rails daughter, Momi (Nadia). Over the next few weeks Ayesha witnesses the underbelly of immigrant life up close. Tariq and his chubby Punjabi flatmate (Nanha) work hard in a factory but when the whistle blows, Tariq/Tony is out all night gambling, dancing and carousing with several English and desi women, including Momi.
Ayesha is horrified and wants to return home but Jamshed convinces her to play a practical joke on her fiancé. Claiming to be Sara, she captures Tariq’s attention whilst he is at a casino. Over a few days she plays hard to get and quickly has Tariq eating out of her hand.
Soon Tariq is so taken by Sara/Ayesha that he asks her to marry him. Eventually Sara relents on one condition: they get married in Pakistan and leave England behind for good.
Tariq is torn in two. He begs her to stay in the UK, because “if I go back to Pakistan, we will never be allowed to be married”. But Sara is adamant. After Momi died after being gang-raped, Baig is devastated and begs Tony to return to Pakistan.
Still Tariq refuses. A few days later Ayesha, Baig, Jamshed and the jolly flatmate all return to Islamabad. Ayesha confesses to her mother that she’s failed in her mission to bring back her fiancé. But her mother points to a mysterious handsome man in the distance who is revealed to be none other than Tariq. The playboy has reformed and returned to his true Eastern home.
There is no question that Playboy is a piece of cinematic polemic, designed to warn the youth of Pakistan against the seductions of Western life. The basic message that England is morally bankrupt and materialistic while Pakistani culture is safe, honourable and cultured is hammered home repeatedly and without any nuance in the frequent arguments Baig has with Momi.
But it is a credit to the actors that they are able to breathe just enough life into their characters that the movie is not a complete clanger. Talish delivers his anti-West homilies with a conflicted soul. Nadeem, as Tariq/Tony, depicts his deep reluctance to return home, convincingly. Though Nadia’s Momi is unconvincing as a drunk, her portrayal of a strong young woman who knows what she wants and where she belongs is compelling. All three actors are able to subtly inject a sympathetic nuance into their characters that slightly counterbalances the otherwise overwhelming traditionalist message.
The music is rather lacklustre, which is surprising given M Ashraf and abundant opportunities to be creative with dance/rock music. The undisputed highlight is Main Walayat Kahnu Aa Gaya (Why I Have Come to England), which is wonderfully sung in Punjabi by the full-throated Shaukat Ali. In the movie, an obese Nanha, who delivers the best performance of any of the actors, performs a rather blubbery exotic dance in various locations across London as a perplexed and bemused public tries to play along.
The lyrics are a dialogue between father and son about the virtues, vices and strange ways of living in the white man’s world. The whole thing is driven by powerful Punjabi percussion and a hypnotic snake charmer’s been (gourd pipe), which tries to smooth out Nanha’s rather awkward hip shakes. But the real hero of the song is what is shown as an electric guitar but actually sounds like an amped-up rubab or sarod. The instrument gives the song a snappy electric edge and does a beautiful job of bridging the multiple contextual gaps of tradition and modern, village and urban, East and West.
Though he keeps the synths and wailing guitars out of this number, Ashraf still manages to create a real rocker; one that is worth repeated listens whether or not you have the patience to watch the entire movie.
A version of this story appeared on the blog https://dailylollyblog.wordpress.com/ and has been reproduced here with permission.
