London Film Festival: Joyland Review

“Sometimes I feel I have nothing that’s my own. It’s either borrowed or stolen from someone else”.

Elizabeth Sorrell
3 min readSep 21, 2022
Photo Credit: Film Constellation

Saim Sadiq’s Joyland is not only impressive for its current prestige, being the first Pakistani film to premiere at Cannes Film Festival. Nor is it only impressive for then winning the Jury Prize and the Queer Palm awards. Joyland is impressive because it burrows down the crux of every single character and fills each of their positions with unimaginable nuance.

Haider (Ali Junejo) is finally back on his feet after years of unemployment, playing the role of fun uncle to his three nieces. Constantly under the thumb of his father, Aman Amanullah (Salmaan Peerzada), he is reminded daily of the humiliation of not having a “little Haider” yet whilst his daughter-in-law, Mumtaz (Rasti Farooq), is the breadwinner of the couple as a beautician. Compared to his brother, Saleem (Sohail Sameer), Haider is falling short of the patriarch’s expectations.

With the help of a friend, he is fixed up with a job at an erotic dance theatre. With the promise of 40,000 rupees per month and a fourth daughter brought into the world, the family reluctantly decides that Mumtaz should quit her job and focus on having a son. Meanwhile, Haider is immediately enamoured by Biba (Alina Khan), a transgender dancer who is forging her own path to stardom. Intimidatingly strict but endlessly quippy, every aspect of her character is in stark contrast to the repressive, intrusive life that Haider is used to.

The beauty of Haider’s marriage with Mumtaz is rooted in domestic intimacy, washing dishes in a dark room and tying back her curls for her. Haider and Biba have an electric chemistry based on pure desire but ultimately cannot fully grasp the other’s world. Biba’s flashy clothes and striking disco lights in her room draw Haider in but cannot make him understand her.

I expected this to be some sort of Romeo and Juliet scenario between Haider and Biba, their chemistry alone was palpable. I’m so glad that this film was way more than a tragedy of star-crossed lovers from different worlds. Patriarchal norms, flagrant gossip, and general ignorance on queer identity made their love practically impossible. Not only this but the effect of Haider’s whirlwind affair with Biba has devastating consequences for the entire family.

All the women are abandoned by the men who should protect them unwaveringly. Nucchi (Sarwat Gilani), Saleem’s wife, had a diploma in interior design but “why decorate other people’s houses when you can decorate your own”? Even Aunty Fayyaz (Sania Saeed) who cared for Aman at his most vulnerable was disowned by her son for falling asleep at another man’s house. Love isn’t always enough and while Haider loves both Mumtaz and Biba, he is meek and ultimately, too selfish to fight either of their corners.

His total obliviousness to trans women (while understandable) leads to cringe-worthy yet grounded conflicts in his relationship with Biba. The sexual element of the affair is confused and out of sync brings the relationship to an end. Alongside undergoing vulgar locker room talk from her backup dancers, finding herself in dancing in dangerous clubs for money, and facing constant hostility from the public, Biba fell in love with a man who would not defend her.

Remarkably, every character had a moment to shine. Despite Nucchi’s quiet resignation to domesticated life in lieu of other ambitions, her final outburst at the end confirmed Gilani’s exceptional range as an actress, instantaneously transforming from a demure housewife to a fiery defender of women everywhere. Every actor had the space to let their abilities shine and they each took that opportunity in their stride.

In a patriarchal setting that vehemently fears gossip, Haider, Saleem, and Aman can try to do the right thing in their respective ways but in the fullness of time, women of all walks of life suffer under their homely tyranny, selfishness, and passivity. Sadiq puts heteronormative tradition side-by-side with the new world of unapologetic queerness, resulting in an explosive melodrama that will no doubt live on as a staple in queer cinema.

Verdict: ★★★★★

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Elizabeth Sorrell
Elizabeth Sorrell

Written by Elizabeth Sorrell

South London-based freelance writer, focusing on literature, theatre, and opinion pieces.

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