All in a script
Playwrights scan the content and script that is on offer today
By Ammara Ahmad
Television plays have evolved a lot since the advent of private channels. Their script, narrative and direction have also changed.
Two themes dominate today’s TV scripts. One is the saas bahu conflict, a theme notably absent during PTV’s heyday, and the other is marriage-related issues. Virtually every problem that a marriage could cause for the couple and their families — from proposal to domestic violence to childlessness to return of a vengeful ex to property disputes and divorce — appears on the small screen in vivid details.
“There is no script department in these channels to check what should go on air and what shouldn’t. As a result even abuses can go on air,” says television veteran Anwar Maqsood. “All over the world there is no place for TV plays in literature but there is little fiction and no drama in Urdu literature and our television plays have filled this gap.”

then&now
“Today’s plays are commercially oriented”
By Aamir Tariq & Usman Ghafoor
Sahira Kazmi comes from that ever-green pool of talent that PTV produced in its legendary golden era, back in the 1970s through the early ‘80s when, they say, drama had peaked with its sophisticated presentation (despite limited budgets and technical restraints), scripts were anything but fluff and acting in no way mediocre. Sahira made an instant mark with her understated performance in, for instance, Parchhayian, an adaptation of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. People also liked her trademark long hair, a graceful posture and a raspy voice. Decades later, she was directing such popular serials as Dhoop Kinare and Tum Se Kehna Tha, not to forget the inimitable Moin-Akhtar-starrer Rozi.
Not quite happy with the way things at PTV had now turned out, Sahira quit the state-owned network, preferring to do work in the private sector. But even there she didn’t find much inspiration in terms of actors’ attitude and work ethic. Her last serial, Kaisay Kahein, was aired in early 2006. Since then, she hasn’t made any plays or public appearances. But not the one to die hard, she plans to come back with a film for cinema. It will have a crew of young, talented individuals, she reveals. A talk show on TV is also on the agenda. Seems like drama will have to wait. Sahira explains to TNS this and more…

Classic and tired
How does a time of fast editing, pace and bright colours compare with the empty style, the pause, the look, the dialogue, the almost unbearable silence of yore
By Ali Sultan
What makes any work of art a classic? The Oxford English Dictionary defines classics as works “of the first class; of acknowledged excellence.” Mark Twain called them books which people “praise and don’t read.” Writer Italo Calvino defined a classic as something “that has never finished saying what it has to say.”
The 1960s, 70s and 80s are generally lauded as the golden age of the television play of Pakistan— as there was no other television channel except state television therefore of PTV.

analysis
From drama to commodity

When did we stop defining our drama as an emotional cushion —
philosophical and cathartic? When did
quality, realism and a focus on literary content seeped in
culture give way to compromise?

By Osman Khalid Butt

Has our average drama serial lost the plot? Venturing on the once-upon-a-time, you could pick practically any drama serial from, say, a PTV vault and it would prove a benchmark in histrionics, strong characterisation and unforgettable dialogue. The fabric of the plot used to be woven in philosophy — a poetic commentary on our culture, if you will — representation of the everyman that would strike a chord with viewers of any social strata. The works of Ashfaq Ahmed — one still fondly recalls Aik Mohabbat Sau Afsanay, Qila Kahani and other treasures — Bano Qudsia, Dr Enver Sajjad, Hameed Kashmiri, Kamal Ahmed Rizvi (Alif Noon) and Haseena Moin are legends. Our film- and drama-centric generation should YouTube Ankahi, Tanhayian and Dhoop Kinaray for character study and inspiration, Amjad Islam Amjad’s Waris has an ageless appeal, and so on.

But where is Alif Noon, Kahani Ki Talaash, Angan Terha, Khuda Ki Basti, Dhundle Rastay, Deewarein, Kashkol, Dhuaan and other TV serials that were not so much routine-viewing as religion for the nation? When did we stop defining our drama as an emotional cushion; philosophical and cathartic? When did quality, realism and a focus on literary content seeped in culture give way to compromise? Was it the sudden mushrooming of private television channels and a case of quantity-replacing-quality, a heavy influence of the Kapoor (that’s Ekta) clan or, as I like to call it, the heavily-adorned sari-clad cultural attack on our viewers, or a dearth of writers that could move mindsets with the stroke of a pen?

First, a bit of history. At the time of the inception of Pakistan Television Corporation (PTV), in 1964, there was a team of great dramatists and radio artists-turned-television actors who, no matter the limitation of live drama (no editing facilities; dramas telecast live to audiences, much like theatre, no set or costume changes), gave utmost important to the definition and development of character, so reminisces Dr Khalid Said Butt, eminent playwright, television actor and director.

With a minimal set but strong content, and more effort (in comparison) on the part of both actor and director, the product remained message-oriented, impactful and with little-to-no exposure to foreign medium and programming, the beauty and poetry of language was preserved. Most of the legends of television drama belonged to this ‘golden’ era; one that continued through the 1970s and ‘80s.

With technological advancements, especially in editing, came further finesse, though even then, actors became slightly less invested in role-preparation and character development, possibly because drama lost its ‘theatrical’ live telecast element. But still, with such a talented crop of writers, directors, actors and producers, drama thrived — in Lahore and Karachi. “Till the ‘80s, the identity of drama was kept away from the formula of film; a conscious decision on the part of dramatists. But slowly, we saw an increasing influence of film in our serials,” says Dr Butt.

The reasons for this could be the various bans imposed by the government on other mediums of entertainment — such as the cabaret during the Bhutto era, due to the rightist influence; viewers‘ demand was still there, and theatre suffered in capitalising on it. But possibly one of the biggest declines in drama came with the death of social message; the birth of soap.

Where came superficial, hackneyed plots that featured thin storylines stretched to 50 episodes and beyond; where glamour ate away artistic fabric and authenticity of character, where women became caricatures focusing on ‘borrowed’ saas-bahu quarrels and assorted melodrama. What prominent and beloved television actress, host and playwright Bushra Ansari succinctly terms as the “Star Plus ki fake auratein” syndrome. “Once we would hear that our television serials emptied traffic in Amritsar and Jalandhar, so invested were the audiences abroad; when cinema academies in Puna and Bombay would showcase our dramas to instruct their students, and now drama has degraded to the point where we’re copying the formula of the Indian soap,” adds Dr. Butt.

Devoid of culture and plot but heavy on the lipstick, creativity now depended on the advertising and marketing teams; drama became just a commodity.

“With the advent of private commercial channels, they just started copying Indian soaps and doing Pakistani soaps ad nauseam. I’m all for variety; I feel there’s a place for soaps, for realism in drama, for series and sitcoms — you name it — but I do believe there should be a sense of reality in terms of acting, in terms of storyline” is how popular TV producer, director and actress Sahira Kazmi puts it.

In our quest to ‘move with the times’, we also began to resort to shock value and amoral content to get these ratings. “The younger generation [and] channel owners have more freedom now because of a relaxed censorship. But save for a couple of plays, no one is using that freedom constructively to showcase important subject matters and tackling what was once taboo,” she adds.

Ironically, even though we’ve been introduced to the concept of drinking, decadent socialising and illicit relationships, most of today’s drama is more misogynistic in their telling of female characters than the dramas of yore.

Of course, this is not true for all drama, just the ones that were possibly the most heavily promoted. Some directors and dramatists have either retained or reverted back to literature and strong plots for inspiration — the adaptations of Umaira Ahmed’s novels (‘La Hasil’, ‘Man-o-Salwa’ and ‘Meri Zaat Zarra-e-Benishan’, to name a few) — some of the drama we see today is more realistic and less ten-thousand camera angles for a single reaction shot. But is it enough?

Haseena Moin, popular playwright and an institution unto herself, opines: “The TV plays of the ‘70s and ‘80s were of much better quality because they had immense literary value — the superlative works of Amjad Islam Amjad, Asghar Nadeem Syed and the like were dramatised. Also, the people who wrote, directed and produced these plays had studied their art. We were at par with the television standards of other countries, which is why every person was aiming to do better work. But later, with the advent of the ‘soap’ in India with 100-200 episodes, television became more of an exercise in exhibitionism and excess — our audience became swayed by such excess and thus drama took a nosedive because it lacked its essence: its story.

Besides, our first batch of directors and controllers were trained from abroad in their respective professions — who knew the makeup, setup and execution of programmes — so both the selection of dramas and the quality itself was excellent.

Another factor was the political government that started a quota system to please people. Drama is an art form: you cannot politically maneuver or control it. In this way, people who were not properly qualified in the creative art became office-workers. And, thus, programming suffered.

But then what steps should be taken to bring back the golden era of drama in Pakistan? “This is a very easy question. Drama is an art form, people who haven’t studied it cannot do justice to it. First of all, entrust the responsibility of writing and directing drama to only those who have studied literature and know drama. The director should know the art entirely; he should know all technical aspects — what are lighting, camerawork, screenplay, and what is human nature.

These days, drama has become a business and nothing more — you have some money, you open up a production house and start directing, taking help from the cameraman. This does not a drama make. These days, everyone is here to make a quick buck. The screenwriter wants to write an episode a day — unthinkable and unmanageable in earlier times. Same is the case with artists: they gravitate mostly towards where the money is, jumping from one set to the other — in this way, they have no lives of their own and they’ve made drama and dialogue lifeless as well.

Writers are doing a rush-hack-job — drama today has so many mistakes in our language; Urdu is being written and spoken incorrectly and that is sad, because no one is taking accountability for it.

One would assume that with the introduction of cable and private TV channels, there would be more market, more diversity? Why the nosedive, then? Sahira Kazmi puts it down to both carelessness and convenience: “The point is, when you do something and do it well, it takes time, energy and commitment. Unfortunately, people aren’t that interested or invested, so the cheapest, quickest, get-it-over-with and put-it-on-air method is applied, and with channel bosses calling the shots in most television channels and substandard material going on air, why should anyone bother?”

Bushra Ansari makes some astonishing revelations: “There is no kind of scrutiny in channels. I know a famous writer I cannot name who has sold the same drama three times to different channels with altered names and characters. And nobody has the time or makes the effort to cross-check.”

The situation, she says, isn’t all that bleak after all. Despite the fact that most people gravitated towards ‘commercial’ drama because there was more stability (“in our times, drama was not a financially stable option — it was either a passion or ‘pagalpan’ that drove us”). “Modern drama cannot be rejected outright because good serials have emerged in the midst of mediocrity as well.”

She feels there are artistes who never compromise on their work ethic and standards, because they are less concerned with ratings — she mentions director Mazhar Moin and writer Fasih Bari Khan, who she claims have retained the flavour of the classic PTV drama, with the element of literature, content, good music and a realistic approach. She credits channels such as Hum TV and, to some extent, ARY with maintaining a steady flow of quality drama serials.

“Don’t even get me started on comedy,” she adds. “Our comedy has suffered at the hands of sitcom — I haven’t worked in one. That is not the kind of comedy we can relate to our own cultural values, our socio-economic problems and circumstances; we’re too hell-bent on copying a style of humour foreign to us. Which is why even now, save for perhaps Family Front, one is hard pressed to recall any good recent comic play.

“After a very long time, I’m part of a project Azar Ki Ayegi Baraat (and its sequels) which is an entertaining play — only my second in 25-30 years after Angan Terha. And, it’s been critically and commercially appreciated. So the thing is: no one’s stopping you from making money. But at least don’t compromise on quality in the process. I’ve heard so many actors state that the scripts were extremely poor but because there was good money involved, they decided to go ahead with the project.”

One wonders, though, with the emphasis being laid on the dearth of quality drama, what role our audience — and their varying taste — has to play in all of this. Are they partially to blame for the mimicry of Indian soaps and substandard plays? Bushra Ansari refutes this. “Back in the glorious days of PTV, we had the same audience — the same people that still reminisce, rue the death of drama and still remember the golden era; both the higher/middle class and the man on the street — why is it that they still remember our olden dramas?”

All in a script

Playwrights scan the content and script that is on offer today

By Ammara Ahmad

Television plays have evolved a lot since the advent of private channels. Their script, narrative and direction have also changed.

Two themes dominate today’s TV scripts. One is the saas bahu conflict, a theme notably absent during PTV’s heyday, and the other is marriage-related issues. Virtually every problem that a marriage could cause for the couple and their families — from proposal to domestic violence to childlessness to return of a vengeful ex to property disputes and divorce — appears on the small screen in vivid details.

“There is no script department in these channels to check what should go on air and what shouldn’t. As a result even abuses can go on air,” says television veteran Anwar Maqsood. “All over the world there is no place for TV plays in literature but there is little fiction and no drama in Urdu literature and our television plays have filled this gap.”

The Indian soap operas had significant influence initially to the extent that Pakistani drama started churning out copies of Indian soaps. But these were no match to their Indian counterparts. Slowly, Pakistani plays were moulded by the local market standards. Star-Plus soaps that lasted several hundred episodes were replaced by shorter shows — somewhere between 15 to 30 episodes — with more indigenous, marriage-related problems instead of romances. Initially, there was an attempt to replicate the saris, gaudy necklaces and colourful sets from India but now that has subsided too. Most plays take place on-location and lack the colour and glamour of Indian soaps.

Certain indigenous subjects like polygamy, secret second wife, honor killings, tribal issues, jirga decisions etc are also presented. Taboo issues like rape, eunuchs and prostitution occasionally make it on screen. The socio-political conflicts of Pakistan, like provincial identity, urban violence, terrorism, and other everyday political problems are visibly absent. Part of the reason is that mostly middle-class women, according to market surveys (T.R.Ps), watch these plays, whereas men focus on news channels. Therefore these plays focus on more domestic issues.

“There is no meeting point in production nowadays, where everyone sits together to discuss the play,” says actress and producer Samina Peerzada. “We need to understand where the world is going, what channels like HBO and BBC are producing, their latest techniques and trainings. Every member of the crew needs training.”

Asghar Nadeem Syed has a similar complaint. “Television has become somewhat like the film industry, where everyone just goes on sets, give a shot and returns. The writer usually never makes it to the scene nowadays.”

Hasina Moin states that some twenty years back, the producer used to discuss each scene during the writing process, and then discuss it with the actors. Then rehearsals used to be held and the actors couldn’t arbitrarily change their lines.

One key reason behind the weak scripts and productions, despite the money invested, is that the same crew is occupied in other productions and simply managing the dates is troublesome. Usually this management falls in the director’s share and the quality suffers. The director’s involvement in the play is restricted, and unlike PTV days, he or she spends much less time on the sets.

“Private channels mostly had print journalists and gave priority to news. The news coverage is cheaper, much of the work is done on sets, whereas a drama would require 1 crore and a lot of work,” says Asghar Nadeem Syed. “Consequently these talk shows are becoming more and more dramatic.”

The language quality on the small screen is believed to have been deteriorated. This is perhaps because these shows cater to a larger audience with varying tastes. Other than becoming bolder and louder, sometimes even explicit, the diction is limited. One reason is that writers who previously wrote for digests, which have huge readership, have shifted to lucrative television writing and are paid per scene. The overall plot and standard of writing has less significance than how dramatic, sensational and twisted the story is.

“Drama has lost its old stature because now digests stories have become plays and the same authors are now playwrights.” says Hasina Moin. “Private channels are out to earn money, and this is part of the reason why PTV has run out of market. The final straw was the quota system in which people were hired by PTV from each province; the seats were reserved on provincial quota without much regard for talent and creativity.”

The plays are driven by market demand and as the audiences and society will mature these plays will improve. Certain channels like Hum TV, ATV and Indus already carry relatively unique programming. Furthermore, many of these plays have done the valuable social service of putting controversial and even taboo topics in the centre of public discourse, though by sometimes entrenching stereotypes.

then&now
“Today’s plays are commercially oriented”

By Aamir Tariq & Usman Ghafoor

Sahira Kazmi comes from that ever-green pool of talent that PTV produced in its legendary golden era, back in the 1970s through the early ‘80s when, they say, drama had peaked with its sophisticated presentation (despite limited budgets and technical restraints), scripts were anything but fluff and acting in no way mediocre. Sahira made an instant mark with her understated performance in, for instance, Parchhayian, an adaptation of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. People also liked her trademark long hair, a graceful posture and a raspy voice. Decades later, she was directing such popular serials as Dhoop Kinare and Tum Se Kehna Tha, not to forget the inimitable Moin-Akhtar-starrer Rozi.

Not quite happy with the way things at PTV had now turned out, Sahira quit the state-owned network, preferring to do work in the private sector. But even there she didn’t find much inspiration in terms of actors’ attitude and work ethic. Her last serial, Kaisay Kahein, was aired in early 2006. Since then, she hasn’t made any plays or public appearances. But not the one to die hard, she plans to come back with a film for cinema. It will have a crew of young, talented individuals, she reveals. A talk show on TV is also on the agenda. Seems like drama will have to wait. Sahira explains to TNS this and more…

The News On Sunday: TV drama was always a strong point. Do you think it has lost its touch? If so, why?

Sahira Kazmi: Drama is about doing challenging things. There are certain principles involved that should be adhered to when discussing classic drama. There is a principle of variety and hitting several issues that the society at large faces because if the drama fails to address those, then drama hasn’t achieved its purpose. Probably adapting from foreign culture could be a viable tool for that.

TNS: Earlier, we had respected literary writers scripting for TV, but today it seems anyone can become a playwright or, for that matter, a drama producer/director. Comment.

SK: It is very true and very sad also. One should get training, even it it’s in the visual arts or music. Today is an era where all elements that make up drama are very important and influence the overall message that it transcends. I believe that even rating is something that could help us improve standards.

TNS: Is it a myth that old PTV drama was ‘gold’ and that today’s plays do not even compare? Could you briefly discuss the virtues of our ‘classic plays’ and the plays of today?

SK: Well, good and bad existed even before as well. The reason why we had quality plays before was because the scripts were original and the creative people were motivated to try new things. Adaptation was something that was taken seriously and probably new perspectives with modifications projected them even better. But today’s plays are more commercially oriented and so they become victims of channels and suffer from mediocre scripts and direction. Though some shows on Hum TV are still better, there is a lot of work which needs to be done.

TNS: Eventually, can it be said that the standard of our TV drama has improved overtime?

SK: I wouldn’t say that there has been a massive improvement but yes it’s true that improvement has been witnessed. With technological assistance today and people from different institutions, we have started working on our intellectual capital as well but no massive statements could be made.

TNS: What about the standard of our comedy shows?

SK: Comedy is a very important aspect of drama. It is one of the sides which is essential for any society and more importantly for us when we have so much depression around us. The point is that despite the fact that we have comedy today, it is very loud sadly. Comedy can be subtle and could be done with class, too.

TNS: How fair is our comparison with Indian and American TV shows?

SK: It isn’t too fair a comparison honestly. There is a lot of work to be done. I believe that we should have a classical channel where we appreciate our work in the past to set a precedent as well. Moreover, we need to maintain a certain level of shows today. If our grand solution on making things work is by copying Indian soaps then we are doing no good to the industry.

TNS: Would you say that our TV drama today is dealing with social taboos more openly than how it used to do earlier?

SK: To be honest, they are dealing with taboos, yes, but it’s not how things are supposed to be shown. It could be done with subtleness as well. Besides, the only issue that has been targeted is extra-marital affairs. So, there are several other issues that need to be dealt with.

TNS: Are there any issues we still shy away from — for instance blasphemy, homosexuality, marital rape, etc?

SK: Yes, apart from shying away, we sometimes don’t even bother to address them socially as well. Censorship is less of an issue today but ironically we have covered more issues in the times when a military dictatorship or a conservative political regime put curbs on creativity.

TNS: Is TV drama meant only for family viewing? Can it not play adult-specific material with, perhaps, a rating?

SK: It can surely target a larger audience. I mean, even in the West you have certain times for the viewing of certain shows. Even a rating could help develop some discretion among the people of different age groups. Above all, restricting drama to a certain age also confines it to a certain periphery which restricts creativity.

TNS: How much responsibility/blame would you place on the actors’ shoulders for the decline/rise of our drama?

SK: I wouldn’t blame the actors at all because they are victims of the channels’ ratings game. The only script they get to work on is the one which the channels demand. Moreover, it’s also the fault of directors who get easily dominated by this pressure and, as a result of which, you have acting today that is easily challenged by critics. So, in actuality, the actors need a good script, direction and atmosphere that don’t limit their creativity.

Classic and tired

How does a time of fast editing, pace and bright colours compare with the empty style, the pause, the look, the dialogue, the almost unbearable silence of yore

By Ali Sultan

What makes any work of art a classic? The Oxford English Dictionary defines classics as works “of the first class; of acknowledged excellence.” Mark Twain called them books which people “praise and don’t read.” Writer Italo Calvino defined a classic as something “that has never finished saying what it has to say.”

The 1960s, 70s and 80s are generally lauded as the golden age of the television play of Pakistan— as there was no other television channel except state television therefore of PTV.

It is usually accepted that, to be considered a classic, a television play has to achieve a level of critical and popular success that endures for many years. However, even this is a tricky standard to be rigid about and can be many times misleading.

Some, including myself, are sticklers for that empty style, the pause, the look, the dialogue, the silence, almost unbearable. The empty room, except for two characters, one foreshadowing the other. It was a style the old timers invented straight out of the freefall imagination of the radio into the three dimensions of PTV’s studios. Perhaps they were heavily influenced by the muteness of Antonioni or the sculpturing in time theory of Tarkovsky, but the answer to the question of its visual aesthetic being relevant now is: No. In a time of fast editing, pace and bright colours, the idea of standing rather still, of really looking at something for seconds, minutes at an end, has gone. Television is all hit and misses now, and so are many of its plays.

A significant point that comes into assessing films and television is about some or all of its thematic content going out of fashion, or of being dated. Take for example the famous play Dhoop Kinare where in a span of approximately 14 episodes Rahat Kazmi’s middle-aged character woos Marina Khan’s chirpy, young character. Taking into account a whooping 560 hours (40 hours without counting advertisements) it takes Kazmi and Khan to get together to a play of today where from episode one the flirt is in full swing, you can notice that the idea, the very nature of romance has changed and that a majority of the audience will not sit that long to sit down to see a romance bloom for that long.

There is also a pointer we know as contemporary relevance. How much is a piece of art, created many years ago, relevant know, how it holds up as a model for the future? This way the PTV play is interesting in two respects.  The language of the PTV play was all style, ink from famous playwrights and intellectuals of the day, and the odd rhythms and the silences were their creations at once distinct and recognizable. Today, the language is what we call realistic; there is not much of a monologue or a silence, there is slang and street talk. But calling one better than the other in a larger context would be rather unfair.  What is fair enough to say is that while you could easily distinguish an Ashfaq Ahmed play from an Enver Sajjad one, this would be harder to do today.

There is also an influx of social taboos being talked about in today’s plays. How they are going about it will be assessed by tomorrow’s critic. The interesting thing is that howsoever yesteryear’s plays were steeped in themes of poverty, feudalism, dictatorship, independence etc. they were very much engrossed in the idea of the individual. A living, breathing, thinking individual in a dead society and that is one of the very main differences in those plays and the present ones.

Plays of today might look like they are breaking taboos left right and centre, but strangely they are tackling a collective consciousness not an individual one. Take for example men and women. The strongest point of the plays of the 1960s, 70s and 80s was that men and women in all relationships and especially romantic ones came out on equal footing, where both were individuals, fully formed. In contrast, today there are three women fighting over one man, or one married man is having an affair; there seem to be no individuals, the women come together in the middle of the play to plot and kill the man, and they do by the end. Second marriages are in full swing now — how will I handle two relationships instead of just one? — so are religion, money, consumerism.

The effect of this collective consciousness is hard to evaluate, only to say that perhaps in retrospect it will make the case for the plays of the golden age stronger as the struggle of the individual is much more colourful.