The essence of Joyland’s message is in the presence of toxicity of the patriarchy. The ride you go on with every story, is filled with this essence. Every gust of wind, pushing you from story to story, is of the patriarchy’s force. You sit alongside it, try and push it away, recognise it in yourself, feel its hold on you and remorsefully accept its power. I found it difficult to write ‘accept’, not because of the reality of it, but the caveat is needed that acceptance of a power does not mean you don’t want to see its eradication. Accept its existence, and strengthen your resolve.

And so Joyland allows your strengthening resolve to reacquaint itself with this actuality. It centres a family living in Lahore, with the patriarch leading the lives of his two sons, daughter-in-laws and grandchildren, yearning for the birth of a boy to generationally lead the family. One son has had four daughters with his wife, and he other, Haider, has had none with his wife Mumtaz.

Mumtaz.

“There was something about her that made me realise that the film is actually about her. It’s an ensemble of people, but if you had to pick one, it’s about her and you don’t know until the end”, the director Saim Sadiq tells me over a zoom call. We spend some time on Mumtaz, because I saw myself in her. I felt her urgency to be loved yet singular in her desires. She needed to just be, but she was allowed very little. After working as a make up artist, she is ordered to stop work and stay at home when Haider, her husband, finally lands a job. Her sadness floods every corner of me.

“She’s the first character I had and the only one through the sixteen (16) re-drafts who stayed the same. As a human being, her core remains the same.” Sadiq smiles when he talk about her, with a sense of familiarity. He tells me the inspiration for her came from his mother - not her exact existence but her core. Our matriarchs are the harborers of shame and knowledge, using it to wield power where possible, but usually held back by the cultural force of patriarchy. Their shame and understanding is what both oppresses and shields them. This is Mumtaz.

These gender norms are essentially defunct, though. As cis people, when we finally allow the voices of trans people into the conversation, suddenly we realise the absurdity of it.

“The trans existence is a direct challenge to the patriarchal way of thinking”, Sadiq tells me when I ask about why having trans characters is important to him.

“There’s something about talking about the patriarchy, particularly in a South Asian setting, which feels so incomplete without talking about the trans perspective. The binary way of thinking is that the patriarchy is propagated on gender norms and so a cis person’s existence is completely negated, when a trans person is introduced.”

When we follow the rules of gender, which has been forced upon us by…ourselves, and a trans person turns up living their true selves as they want, we question the rules. We wonder how they dare to not follow the rules, because if they don’t, then everything we’ve done is a lie. This discomfort can be forefront of a lot of bigotry and it’s important to note in this discussion. As Sadiq says, “This inherent complexity would be missing from the story of the overall patriarchy.”

Biba.

Biba is a trans performer in Lahore, who hires Haider as a background dancer. He reluctantly takes the job, but is enamoured by her, very quickly falling in love. Although the love is questionable. Is it infantilised? Is it fetishised? “This was always a romance that was a tragedy, because it was an impossible romance.” Sadiq tells me, “It’s do with how he views Biba - I didn’t want it to be entirely about fetishisation, but there is a bit in there. Although he does love her, but maybe not the version of her entirely that is true to her perspective.”

The reality here is that Biba is a trans character who isn’t a victim, and that’s why the film was initially banned in Pakistan. We’re under no disillusion here about that. When I ask Sadiq about what happened, he told me “it was banned for having ‘highly objectionable material’ but it had already passed the censor board and the intimate scenes had already been chopped out by me, because I knew they weren’t going to show that in a Pakistani theatre, so to me it was obvious that it was the presence of a trans character. But not just her presence, but showing her not being a victim. If it’s a trans character crying, who has experienced violence, and then someone hugs her at the end, they like the kind of message. As soon as you talk about a trans woman who is not the most likeable, or someone who isn’t seeking your validation, and is going to fall in love and have desire. Then they’re like “that’s too much”.”

Haider hides his job from the family, as Mumtaz is told to stop working because he can now provide for them, leading to the hope of children and in essence - a son. We circle back to this need, this desire. That word surrounds this film. I find patriarchy is the theme as much as desire. Desire to live, to be, to work, to touch, to kiss.

This hope for a son is echoed in this chamber of gender norms. We sit with these facades on what we are supposed to be or look like, and still, a trans person exists unashamedly.

The story is beautiful - you laugh and you weep. You care deeply. I saw myself in Mumtaz. I saw others in misogynist characters. The cinematography is a delight. You find yourself scared to blink, although it moves slow, you don’t want to miss the tenderness of something. The sound elevates and quietens your senses as you travel through the story.

While Haider is essentially unlikeable in many ways, you follow him to see what happens, because the irony of a story about the patriarchy is you must be inside it to follow its vulnerabilities.

Joyland is a must watch. For a variety of reasons. Importantly, because trans people are in our world, our lives, our stories, and our love. And so is the patriarchy.

JOYLAND will be released in UK cinemas on February 24th

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How Joyland confronts the patriarchy by challenging gender norms

Burnt Roti