John is a gripping adult drama constricted by the viewpoints of children
Views: 990Published on: 18-Jul-2023
n John, writer-director Babar Ali’s feature film debut about crime, punishment and innocence lost, the long-arm of the law is nowhere to be seen, save for one scene at the very beginning.
Daud and Fazal (Saleem Mairaj and Raza Samo), two hired-guns of a gang, are stopped by a cop (Rashid Farooqui) and his subordinate, but they have little interest in searching these two suspicious looking men who are out in the dead of the night on a bike. Like many cops, they seek prey to collect some “gunda tax” — i.e. a payoff to let people go their merry way.
The law of the land is sleeping in John’s version of Karachi, and the lack of their menace and intimidation — and the threat of a bona fide villain — takes the edge off of what could have been an epic tale of a fledgling, indecisive, young adult who loses his way in the world.
John (Aashir Wajahat), who plays the guitar and has the singing voice of an angel, is a somewhat quiet teenager with a bit of a temper— allegedly (we’ll get to his temper in a little bit). John also happens to be Christian.
Segregated by society, John has little option but to be a jamadaar — a sweeper. The term, in historical context, meant lieutenant, or minor officer in pre-Partition India. His new job at a school includes opening clogged gutters that ooze thick, black human filth, which, he argues to the school’s passive aggressive administrator (Mohammad Ehtashamuddin), wasn’t what he signed up for.
A lot of good that contention does. His fellow sweepers — one of whom lives in his neighbourhood — don’t have qualms about plowing muck out of manholes, as we see in the opening credits of the film, so why should he be different? At one time, John self-confesses that he can be a food deliveryman, if, that is, he can learn to ride a bike, or has access to one.
Partially out of necessity, John learns to ride a motorcycle after tragedy hits him with a 2x4 — his mom, Shaista, played by Faiza Gillani, dies, and he moves in with Daud and Fazal. By then, he has also fallen in love with one of the school’s maids, Maria (Romaisa Khan).
Fired from his job soon enough, John signs up for the only occupation on his peripheral vision — he becomes a hitman’s driver.
Babar Ali, as both the writer-director and co-cinematographer and editor, understands the value of context, and the need for well-rounded characters with few loose ends. The young filmmaker — who shoots with scene-appropriate camera angles, and edits with fitting precision — possesses a smartness his far more experienced peers lack. The film he made embodies the spirit of indie cinema and, after Madaari, it is the second Pakistani title in recent weeks to win these two credits.
Nevertheless, like the latter title, some elements of the story — largely applause-worthy for its strict adherence to minimalism — come up short. Take John the character as an example, he is the main peg of the story, but, in contrast to his eventual vocation, is not the driver of the plot.
John is the silent, circumstantial, protagonist — an archetype that’s not quite alien in films of such storytelling tilts, albeit with one major difference: this young man has yet to mature into an adult.
John is maneuvered, though never manipulated, into plot points by Babar’s other key-characters — Maria and Daud — both playing the part of his guardian angels with their own agendas.