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Let me preface this review by stating I have 4 daughters, all under the age of the primary character, so as the narrative plays out my thoughts simmer in what I can only imagine a young woman's experience is like in any country in the 21st century.

Mothers and daughters the world over I presume can indentify to oh so many elements here. Creepy uncles, disjointed dialogues, when twenty somethings have to parent the parent, then there's academic expectations and the topper of them all the uncertainties of life unions and or otherwise potential romances. It's almost too relatable.

In short? Men. Who needs us?

Now let me first say that I'm from Europe and it's not a whole lot of Middle Eastern entertainment media that make it to our screens over here, so I'm not sure how biased this movie actually is, but from what (I believe) I know, it is a brilliant, yet horrific, take on traditional Middle Eastern culture and its problematic gender inequality - at least from a Western POV.

After the death of the family patriarch, the women of the family are left to fend for themselves in a culture that holds them to very traditional values, where men basically own the world and women just live in it (as long as they are claimed and accompanied by men).

Nawal does a terrific job at portraying the bleak existence of a young Pakistani woman, who were raised on traditional values yet struggling to accept and submit to them. I thought the reminders every time she did something, she knew to be "wrong", was a remarkable way of depicting the voice of "reason" in the back of her head. Very well done!

In a nutshell; In Flames is a horror DRAMA about female oppression and empowerment. It is thought-provoking, inspired and very necessary in this day and age.

I highly recommend watching it - although if you are looking for jumpscares or boogiemen, you'll find none here. It is not that type of horror.

A primitive film in all respects. There is no good acting, no directing, and not even a story that is supposed to be classified as (horror), but I do not see anything terrifying. Everything is strange and the events are fast. I cannot understand what is happening! The child, Bilal, his sister and his mother were expelled from the house, and he does not care. He just looks at his phone like an unconscious person. We understand that there is an addiction to someone. The situation around him does not allow this indifference. Even during the funeral, he was watching TV. What nonsense. Weak plot and stupid events.

Greetings again from the darkness. One of the unheralded roles movies can play is to help us better understand various cultures around the world. It's important to grasp the challenges others face based on where they live. The first feature film from writer-director Zarrar Kahn takes us to Pakistan and elegantly lays out cultural traditions that may have even outlasted laws that have passed.

Mariam (Ramesha Nawal) spends much of her waking hours studying for the upcoming medical exams. However, the recent death of her beloved grandfather has the film opening with preparations for the funeral service. His passing has left Mariam, her younger brother Bilal (Jibran Khan), and their mother Fariah (Bakhtawar Mazhar) in a precarious situation. The law allows for Fariah to inherit the apartment, car, and belongings; however, family traditions aren't quite in sync. Sleazy Uncle Nasir (Adnan Shah) offers to take care of everything for the grieving family. Mariam is wise not to trust him to act in their best interests, but the passive-aggressive discussions between mother and daughter make it clear that Fariah trusts the Uncle.

A brick through the car window reminds us of other differences between Pakistani law and traditions. Mariam is simply driving herself during daylight hours - an activity that traditionalists refuse to accept. Not long after, Mariam meets Asad (Omar Javaid), and a budding romance blossoms as they enjoy a lovely day at the beach. A tragic accident adds even more stress to Mariam's life, yet the beauty of her character stems from her quiet strength in handling anxiety, grief, and a culture built to hold her back.

The first half of the film employs a relatively slow pace so that we might better understand these people and their situation. Death and visions of departed loved ones play a prominent role, as does the inner-strength of women in a world structured to abuse and take advantage of them. The cinematography of Aigul Nurbulatova deserves special notice here, not just for how the visions and apparitions are handled, but also the interactions which often take place in confined spaces. It all feels as if it could be happening. Ms. Nawal also earns kudos for her performance as Mariam. She allows us to feel the emotions without ever once over-emoting. Kahn's film was Pakistan's submission of Oscar consideration last year and it's easy to see why.

In theaters beginning April 12, 2024.

Pakistani cinema often grapples with the weight of societal commentary, and In Flames is no exception. Like many of its predecessors, the film ambitiously attempts to address multiple societal issues but falls into the familiar trap of trying to do too much, leaving each theme underexplored. While it frames itself as a mirror to the regressive values and harsh realities of Pakistani society, it offers little beyond surface-level depictions of these issues.

Simply showing societal ills is not enough to create compelling cinema. The film provides no fresh insights or deeper analysis-what it presents are occurrences well-known to anyone living in Pakistan. Without any meaningful exploration, the social commentary remains hollow, a missed opportunity to offer audiences a more profound understanding of the culture it critiques. (I would like to add, however, that in all my 40 years of living in Karachi, I haven't heard of a single incident where a brick was thrown through the window of a car simply because a woman was driving. I fear that hyperbole is being employed to elicit pity from Western audiences eager to shed a tear or two.)

The film's central irony-that the family's abuser is also its protector-has the potential to be a powerful narrative device. However, it's disappointingly underutilized. Over the course of its two-hour runtime, this concept remains stagnant, failing to evolve or provide any substantial commentary on the plight of women in such situations. Instead of delving into the complexities of this dynamic, the story remains content to merely restate it.

Adding to the film's shortcomings is the dialogue. Much of the Urdu feels like a literal translation of English expressions, resulting in stilted and unnatural lines that fail to resonate. These missteps in language strip the characters of authenticity, further detracting from the film's impact.

One more point I'd like to add-though I could be wrong-is that the film seemed to carry undertones of classism. The only two male characters who weren't depicted as horrendous were the metaphorical "white savior," a Canadian-bred, "civilized" Pakistani, and an educated lawyer. This contrast felt problematic, especially when marginalized individuals, like rickshaw drivers, were portrayed as morally detestable. Predatory behavior toward women is not confined to any one class, and it's crucial to approach such depictions with care. Letting personal biases seep into the narrative risks perpetuating harmful stereotypes.

In the end, In Flames comes across as disjointed and incohesive, weighed down by one-dimensional representations. Its attempt at horror, unfortunately, falls well short of the mark. In a post-Jordan Peele era, where many films effectively blend horror with real-world societal issues, In Flames fails to succeed on either front.