Fifteen or so years ago a movie called In Flames would’ve conjured up images of Scandanavian terror, full of blacks and dark blues, probably quite nihilistic, where an unlucky group were victim to supernatural terrors from beyond. Admittedly, part of that hypothetical may be influenced by sharing a name with a Swedish Melodic Death Metal Band, but the real reason for such an assertion is that Pakistani/Canadian filmmaker Zarrar Kahn’s debut, In Flames, is far from what you may expect.
Taking place in Karachi, a family mourns the death of their grandfather and patriarch, their father having died before the events of the movie. The remaining immediate family is made up of 25-year-old daughter Miriam (Ramesha Nawal), her mother, Fariha (Bakhtawar Mazhar), and young brother Bilal (Jibran Khan), while Miriam’s love interest Asad (Omar Javaid), and her duplicitous uncle Nasir (Adnan Shah), linger around the edges. Miriam becomes suspicious of her uncle’s sudden attention, but unfortunately, her mother doesn’t share her concerns. This is the bread and butter of In Flames as it’s a drama about a family struggling with grief and responsibility – the sort you might expect from critically acclaimed Iranian directors.
This is definitely a supernatural horror film, but Kahn’s script cuts deeper than that. Early on we’re violently reminded that Pakistan is a very male dominated society when a random man throws a brick through Miriam’s car window, calling her a whore and chasing her down the street for the simple reason that she’s sitting alone, listening to music. There are also instances of militant men publicly correcting the behaviour of Miriam and Asad, and although of being robbed of their autonomy is a very literal “horror” that women in societies such as Pakistan endure daily, it would be a stretch to include it in the Frightfest strand of the Glasgow Film Festival.
About 40 minutes in a horrible accident occurs while Asad and Miriam are returning from a date, which sadly only Miriam survives. She subsequently becomes haunted by Asad’s memory, beginning with the sight of having a man pleasuring himself while looking up at her flat from the street below, to nightmares that infect both her sleeping and waking states. The milky-eyed entity that occupies Miriam’s dreams claims that it’s only a matter of time until the two are together again, and she has horrible visions in which men physically dominate and overpower her at the drop of a hat. These hauntings pull Miriam into more spectral realities that are intent on causing her death – all of which culminates in an uncanny, if confusingly framed, scene that’s beleaguered by bad CG fire.
With a cathartic ending that cements In Flames as part of an archetype that’s becoming increasingly prevalent with a more diverse group of people who are creating within the genre, there is much to champion from a social commentary angle.
Although much of Kahn’s movie is reasonably direct, In Flames is incredibly slow – but it’s not a slow burn as there are numerous occasions where any momentum is dragged to a halt. With most of the minimal dialogue concerning family issues, whether that’s Miriam’s strange behaviour or Uncle Nasir’s cowardly attacks on them, there’s little room for characterisation or character development – for example Bilal has almost no spoken dialogue, making him little more than a prop.
The social horror of In Flames falls between ghosts and possession, and while Miriam is going about her business an off-key chirping sound signals an upcoming threat which can manifest in different ways – from the masturbating man and ghostly figures stalking her, to a dream where she drowns chasing Asad only to wake choking for breath, and one where she wakes choking Bilal. This simple technique allows the downtime and “scaretime” formula to be shaken up with a satisfying degree of unpredictability, and while none of these instances are scary in the classical genre sense, they are shocking as they come closer to episodes of domestic abuse.
With a cathartic ending that cements In Flames as of part an archetype that’s becoming increasingly prevalent with a more diverse group of people who are creating within the genre, there is much to champion from a social commentary angle. For the Canadian industry to finance a Pakistan-produced passion project is admirably similar to what Welsh/Zambian director Rungano Nyoni enjoyed with her slyly subversive I am Not a Witch (2017). From the largely inexperienced cast (who do a sterling job), to the impressive blocking of scenes in cramped live sets (even if the shot framing is inconsistent), this is an incredibly bold swing for a directorial debut, but for all the good it serves as an “empathy machine”, for many the success of In Flames will ultimately hinge on those hefty pacing issues.
In Flames UK Premiere was at Glasgow Film Festival
Rob’s Archive – In Flames (2023)
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