It takes about an hour for “In Flames” to reveal itself as proper genre horror, but trepidation lurks from the start. In Karachi, Pakistan, the 20-something Mariam (Ramesha Nawal) lives with her widowed mother, Fariha (Bakhtawar Mazhar), and her younger brother, Bilal (Jibran Khan), who’s mostly glued to his video games. The family has been financially dependent on Fariha’s father-in-law, but as the film opens, he has just died — and Fariha’s brother-in-law, Uncle Nasir (Adnan Shah Tipu), is suddenly very interested in the relatives he had been neglecting.
Fariha teaches at an elementary school, and Mariam is studying for exams that will qualify her to be a doctor. They’re smart, capable women who are less concerned with dismantling established social orders than they are with keeping their home and family intact. Yet their lives are hemmed in by the men around them, with a constriction that’s suffocating. For one, there is Uncle Nasir, who has offered to pay the family’s outstanding debts if Fariha signs some documents, which Mariam pleads with her to avoid doing. But there’s also the man who throws a brick through the car window when Mariam is driving to the library, calling her a whore. Or the man who lurks outside her window, masturbating. Or even the nice young man from the library, Asad (Omar Javaid), who won’t leave Mariam alone.
As the women scramble to save their home, the walls close in on them, and that’s the point: “In Flames,” a confident feature debut written and directed by Zarrar Kahn, is one of several recent films from around the world that frame patriarchy as a nightmare. The most recent may be “Shayda,” set in Iran, but even movies like “Poor Things” and “Promising Young Woman” play with the same idea, albeit with a lighter touch. This one is set in Pakistan, in the midst of debates about religious fundamentalism and gender roles, but the outlines are familiar even to audiences in very different circumstances. Men commit obvious, blatant offenses, confident the system is stacked in their favor. But even the “good guys” are locked in a culture that rewards them for refusing to listen to the women who, it’s made clear, are holding the country together.
That means the horror extends to the male perpetrators, who couldn’t find their way out of the maze of unjust systems if they tried. But there’s no question the women bear the brunt of it, whether the perpetrator is abusive, or greedy, or just clueless. To seek help is fruitless, and dangerous; being in debt to yet one more man is another way to put yourself at risk.
Kahn manages to assemble the story in a way that escapes feeling like a series of object lessons. He centers the story on Mariam, giving Nawal’s expressive eyes plenty of time to convey emotions she dares not speak aloud. Mariam’s environment signals her inner life. Sometimes the character is in claustrophobic interiors, where she can’t escape others’ prying eyes; sometimes she’s blessedly alone; and sometimes she’s experiencing brief moments of respite in expansive, beautiful scenery. She feels a pull between the freedom she craves and the responsibility she feels to her family. Technically, Mariam is a plucky heroine. But she isn’t rebellious, or even defiant. She’s just trying to survive.
Wisely, Kahn creates a world in which Mariam and Fariha cannot help but be pulled apart, ruptured by the patriarchy’s force. The only way for each to endure is to depend on yet another man to help them, which has profoundly middling results, and an element of always-present danger. When the film finally gives way to full horror, the pace picks up, and we see what the movie’s been doing all along. Oppression isn’t always blatant, and it isn’t the work of individuals acting alone. It comes like night terrors, paralyzing both oppressor and oppressed — and escape can require drastic action.
In Flames
Not rated. In Urdu, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 38 minutes. In theaters.
