Aesthetics should be the tie, not the bag
This review is my opinion and contains spoilers.
Parey Hut Love: like a decent number of blockbusters, the dance numbers are enough and can be found on YouTube.
“Parey Hut Love” is a 2019 film designed to be the blockbuster it was with its craft in its soundtrack, well-produced choreographed dance numbers, charming cast, smooth cinematography, and a story structure that tells you (somewhat literally) it is doing its best to focus on delivering entertainment as well as a meaningful story. The screenplay has a confusing way of portraying characters and themes. To many, it disqualifies the film from its blockbuster status.
The film starts with jokes from a mother (Hina Dilpazeer) shaming her son, Sheheryar (Sheheryar Munawar), and friend, Arshad (Ahmed Ali Butt), for being gay and possibly wearing high heels. When she finds out the act is part of a coverup, she is relieved she doesn’t have to worry about what she ought to tell other people. It is unexplained why Sheheryar felt he should tidy up his apartment before his mother, Farida, walks in the door despite her knowing that he’s a struggling actor. If anything, explaining to her upfront as to why the scene she overheard involving hitting what could be his girlfriend after she tells him she’s pregnant should calm her down. One would think that, but then again, Farida’s verbal reaction was about finding out who the mother of her son’s child is. Perhaps this scene is to prime the audience for how characters react in emotional situations, to let it go. The coverup and the way the scene was addressed seemed necessary to hide that a woman who was not married to either Shehryar or Arshad was alone in the apartment. This stigma is indicated when the woman re-arrives in the apartment and introduces herself to Farida as their neighbor. She also feels it necessary to address her familiarity with the apartment and the boys due to her tending to any needs they may have, like…bringing water. Sheheryar tells Farida that she also helps with supervising sets and production design. And that’s the end of the first bit. What appears as a nonsensical bit among actors with quick chemistry makes someone part of the diaspora, at least, like me, very lost at the normalcy of the humor. Maybe they were making fun of social norms? Sheheryar does play with his mother’s prejudice by joking about having kids with Arshad and slapping his butt. But it ends with him saying, “Relax, Mom,” which somewhat legitimizes the feared reaction, however caricatured it was.
The first scene symbolizes some saccharine humor that almost doesn’t want to be taken seriously as humor itself. The rapport between the actors pulls the film forward, helpinglp the audience nearly forget what they are talking about. The bits are also fast. If a moment isn’t funny, you can rely on that ending in the next minute. It helps that between these beats is a love story that aims to ground Shehryar with empathy and family values. Sheheryar falls for a distant cousin (Khaloo’s older brother’s daughter, his mother’s husband’s older brother’s daughter), Saniya (Maya Ali), who feels it necessary to marry soon before her father’s cancer becomes terminal. She doesn’t tell him, but the rush pushes Sheheryar away. He tells her he wants to be more secure in his career before settling down, but that’s not a reason to delay the relationship with Saniya. He also feels that since his father left his mother when he was young, long-term love doesn’t exist. He also doesn’t tell her this until he’s helping Saniya prepare for her wedding–to someone else.
The physical aggression that goes with the emotional pleading of asking their beloved to come back isn’t what one aspires for in terms of emotional regulation with the person they love. The first instance arrives when Sheheryar pleads for Saniya to return after she brings her fiancee to a wedding. He takes a few too many sips from his flask, and it leads to him holding onto her and her pushing him away quite a few times. And then again, when he lets go. What comes off as unfair is when the situation has been defused, and Saniya apologizes despite Sheheryar being the initial aggressor. Then, she tells him why she was rushing into the relationship. The next time Sheheryar grabs her tightly is when she’s fully ornamented and in her bridal gown. The flask is missing from this scene, but perhaps it’s the tears in his eyes that he’s asking the audience to forgive him. But he never apologizes for how he reacts, even when he’s settled in his career and appears more emotionally secure overall.
Seeing a change in Sheheryar where he’s willing to embrace long-term relationships, whether with his step-father (“half dad” as otherwise shown in his contacts list) or Saniya, makes watching his journey intriguing. Granted, his relationship with his step-father improves after receiving financing to produce a film Saniya’s father wrote, but from this loud first form of support, he learns his step-father believes in him. Sometimes, a film asks its protagonist to aspire toward one thing, but another layer of sensitivity would have made it more digestible. Unfortunately, these seemingly small but impactful storyline moments stay with an audience member as much as its great dancing and production. Other reviews are more explicit in their comments of a similar nature. What I’ve read about the attire not being “Pakistani” might not be something I can credibly comment on. From what I understand about these comments, the film shows a variety of backgrounds in Pakistan where wardrobe varies in their influence.
Only in Pakistani films, including this one, did I see the topi my father wears.