Dawn Images

Comedy is not an easy genre to tackle. Ask any actor in a rapid-fire round whether it is easier to perform a crying scene or a comic one, and most will pick crying. Making someone emotional is relatively simple — making them laugh is unpredictable and depends entirely on personal taste. What makes one person laugh may not work for another, which is precisely what makes comedy such a risky but rewarding space for filmmakers.

It is within this tricky space that Aag Lagay Basti Mein, directed by Bilal Atif Khan and written by Bilal, and Naeem Ali, arrives. The film does not aim to deal with a heavy subject; instead, it keeps things simple, loud and unapologetically comedic, focusing on the clash between good, bad and morally grey characters.

One of the film’s biggest talking points is the casting of Mahira Khan as Almas. Known for playing polished and composed characters for most of her career, Mahira appears here in a completely different avatar; loud, cunning, street-smart and often abrasive in her language. Seeing her in bright, mismatched clothes, crooked lipstick and delivering insults without hesitation is genuinely surprising. It’s the kind of performance that will clearly divide audiences — some will appreciate the risk she has taken, while others may struggle to accept her in such a raw role. Nonetheless, she fully commits to the part.

Opposite her, Fahad Mustafa plays Barkat, a man so honest and kind that at times he borders on being irritating. Fahad stays in his familiar comic space and does what he does best, though there are moments when you half-expect him to jump on a car and shout his famous Jeeto Pakistan catchphrase. His innocence and vulnerability make the character engaging. At the same time, there is a noticeable echo of the Nabeel Qureshi style of film and acting; a style that has worked in the past but now risks feeling repetitive, and perhaps is ready to evolve into something fresher.

The film also features Javed Sheikh as Marble Seth, reminding viewers once again that he is an actor made for the big screen. Tabish Hashmi, introduced with considerable flair and flamboyance, plays the villainous Chota Marble. While his personality is designed to feel threatening, there is also an underlying innocence that shines through, and Hashmi handles that contrast well, making the character quite engaging.

The story revolves around Barkat, a goody-two-shoes man, and his wife Almas, who is constantly looking for ways to save and steal money so she can one day escape to her dream destination: Dubai. In today’s reality, with visa complications and changing international circumstances, that dream is more complicated than the film lets on, though within its world, it remains her driving motivation.

Their opposing personalities drive the film’s chaos, leading to a series of misunderstandings, petty crimes and exaggerated situations that keep the narrative moving. Amid the comedy of errors, the film also touches on familiar social realities from street crimes to child beggars painted in gold — details that feel recognisable to anyone living in a city in Pakistan.

The director described the film to Images as a situational dark comedy, where the humour comes from the circumstances rather than characters trying to be funny. That approach is visible in scenes where tension builds first and the laughter follows.

The film also incorporates several social media comic performers, including Hafiz Raza Ahmed, Khizr Ansari, Ali Abdullah Durrani, Osama Ateeq and Samra Shehzadi. Though their screen time is brief, they bring familiar internet-era humour to the story. Scenes involving kidnapping exchanges, exaggerated misunderstandings and moments where characters attempt to communicate using only hand gestures, their mouths full of paan (betel nut) feel instantly recognisable, particularly for Karachi audiences.

When asked about the choice of these performers, Bilal said his team was already watching their reels like everyone else. They enjoyed their acting and comic timing, so if they fit the roles, it made sense to cast them.

On the technical side, the film shows clear effort in visual planning. Creative director Salman Noorani brings a stylised look to the film’s world, while production designer Hira Mansoor and 3D artist Ozair Mansoor help translate that vision into detailed sets, particularly in the house where Barkat and Almas live. Cinematographer Abid Rizvi captures the streets and interiors with a certain grit that makes the entire experience feel raw and real. Bringing all of these elements together is the young director Bilal, who, in his debut, manages to coordinate a large ensemble cast, a mix of performance styles and a stylised visual approach.

The film unfolds as a series of comic situations rather than a tightly interwoven narrative, allowing individual scenes to stand out. Many of these moments land effectively with the audience, creating a lively viewing experience even when the story itself takes a back seat.

At its core, Aag Lagay Basti Mein is made very clearly for a Pakistani audience. Its humour, references and situations are rooted in local culture. Some may argue that the film should cater to a larger audience and that viewers from outside should be able to enjoy it too, but its priorities remain firmly local. The strongest indicator of its success comes from the cinema itself, where bursts of laughter and whistles suggest that the film achieves what it sets out to do — entertain.

At a time when global news cycles and local realities are overwhelming, a film that allows audiences to switch off for a few hours and simply laugh can serve a purpose of its own. Aag Lagay Basti Mein may not aim for narrative complexity, but it understands its audience and leans into its chaotic energy.

The humour, however, occasionally leans into adult territory and some moments may feel slightly excessive. The film is best suited for audiences aged 15 and above. For those willing to embrace its loud, chaotic and unapologetically Pakistani style of comedy, it offers a chance to simply sit back and laugh; something Pakistani cinema has not consistently provided in recent years.