The movie itself is beautiful - a concise portrait of broken hopes, ending in an ultimately resilient note of fighting against an additional adversity: addiction. Shaista has an innocent, cheerful twinkle in his eye that becomes duller over time, until we see him a "grown" man. Grown into accepting his circumstances, into abandoning his youthful dreans. For all of us who grew in the Global South, the portrayal feels real beyond words.
But there's one thing I can't get over, and it's the fact that the movie and its producers don't serm to have made it a point to actually help Benazir and Shaista. It's one thing to record their troubles as faithfully as possible, without intervening, but was it necessary to keep them in obscurity after the film came out? The official website for the movie doesn't even profile them, or offer any ways to help them out. There's no GoFundMe, no mention of what happened to them after the film, not enough credit to them as the living, breathing protagonists of this story.
I don't know about Shaista and Benazir, but if I had a movie made about how difficult my life is, and that movie got all the way to the Oscars, and that success didn't make my life a bit easier at least, I'd feel cheated. Their reality was shared, but was it improved? It certainly was improved for the makers of the film, and so it should have been for its subjects. I'm not sure if they helped them in ways not shown in the documentary, but from what is visible they could have done much, much more. Otherwise this film takes a prentended tone of impartiality that just feels outright exploitative.
Where are Benazir and Shaista, whose voices and faces were seen accross the world; whose story was sold and rented, now?
