THE STORY – In the dappled shade of the jamun tree and the spice-laden hush of her kitchen, Zeba moves like a whisper. Newly wed to Sajawal, a man-child haunted by his own reflection, she seeks refuge in two women: Sohni Ammi, her feisty mother-in-law whose sharp tongue hides a big heart; and Bholi, her quiet neighbour whose gaze holds a strange wisdom. Zeba’s past looms large: three suitors lost before they could marry her whose deaths hang like a curse. Love stirs, but Sajawal’s paranoia festers. Bodies become battlegrounds, desire turns to anarchy.
THE CAST – Mamya Shajaffar, Channan Hanif, Rasti Farooq, Farazeh Syed & Mehar Bano
THE TEAM – Sarmad Sultan Khoosat (Director/Writer) & Sundus Hashmi (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 116 Minutes
Freshly married, Zeba (Mamya Shajaffar) and Sajawal (Channan Hanif) should be floating in bliss. Instead, a shadow hangs over their union from the very beginning. Zeba believes she is cursed: her three previous fiancés died before their weddings. Sajawal, meanwhile, appears increasingly tormented by inner demons, unsettled by his own reflection, and wavering between desire and suspicion. In “Lali,” love is no safe harbor but an unstable construct shaped by lust, superstition, grief, and mounting paranoia.
Director Sarmad Sultan Khoosat sets out to tell a story about Pakistan beyond the familiar Western images of suffering and oppression, and for much of its runtime, he succeeds impressively. The first two-thirds unfold as an intense, sensual psychodrama that interweaves familial claustrophobia, social expectations, and generational trauma. Zeba finds support in her sharp-tongued yet affectionate mother-in-law, Sohni Ammi (Farazeh Syed), one of the film’s most vivid characters, as well as in the quiet solidarity of her neighbor, Bholi (Rasti Farooq). At the same time, Sajawal’s jealousy grows, and affection gradually curdles into control.
The horror in “Lali” stems less from overt supernatural effects than from the pressure of tradition and patriarchal expectations. Mysticism and everyday reality flow seamlessly into one another. Jinn, possession, and superstition are not mere genre devices but expressions of deeply rooted fears. This fusion of domestic drama and folkloric supernatural elements gives the film a distinct, culturally specific force. On a stylistic level, “Lali” is frequently striking. Intense colors, particularly the recurring red, reflect both desire and danger. Production and costume design are opulent, the blocking precise, the compositions deliberate. The house, as the central setting, feels tangible and lived-in, and the film’s world is richly textured down to its nosy neighbors. Khoosat displays considerable confidence in his visual language.
Yet as ambitious as the project is, it also loses itself in its own abundance. The film juggles too many themes at once: patriarchy, grief, superstition, female self-assertion, psychological instability, societal pressure, and supernatural symbolism. Rather than reinforcing each other, these layers begin to overlap and compete. Tonally, “Lali” shifts abruptly at several points. In its final third, especially, the narrative escalates into a heavily symbolic direction that feels bold but emotionally underprepared. The ending, therefore, leaves a mixed impression. On one hand, its radical turn is visually powerful and uncompromising. On the other hand, the path leading there feels abrupt and somewhat unclear. It is evident that two possible films are wrestling with each other: a dark, bitterly comic satire steeped in symbolism, or a tightly structured psychological horror drama. Attempting to be both ultimately softens the emotional impact.
The performances remain a major strength. Mamya Shajaffar imbues Zeba with quiet resilience and vulnerability. Channan Hanif convincingly captures Sajawal’s insecurity and growing obsession. Farazeh Syed, in particular, anchors the film with warmth and authenticity as Sohni Ammi. Her character is loving yet intrusive, familiar yet layered, the kind of woman one recognizes instantly but rarely sees portrayed with such nuance on screen.
“Lali” is a film that reaches high and nearly arrives. Its ambition is admirable, its visual execution strong, and its cultural perspective confident and unapologetic. For long stretches, it is a fascinating and distinctive exploration of marriage, trauma, and female agency caught between tradition and superstition. Yet its overabundant symbolism and uneven final act prevent the narrative from fully realizing its potential. What remains is a visually powerful, daring, but ultimately unbalanced work.
