As an Indian trans non-binary filmmaker, exploring Saim Sadiq's Joyland is an emotional and deeply resonant experience. Co-written by Saim Sadiq and Maggie Briggs, Joyland balances intimacy and universality, reflecting a shared vision that enriches its storytelling. This poignant narrative of love, identity, and societal constraints in Pakistan becomes a quiet yet powerful defiance against oppressive traditions. Making history as Pakistan's first-ever entry at Cannes, Joyland won the "Queer Palm" and the Jury Prize in "Un Certain Regard"—but its real victory lies in the raw truths it uncovers.
Layers of Longing
Set in Lahore, Pakistan, the Rana family grapples with societal expectations and personal desires amidst the patriarchal pressures of a male heir. Haider, the youngest son, finds refuge in the vibrant yet shadowed burlesque theater, Joyland. As his infatuation with Biba, a charismatic trans woman and the theater’s star attraction, deepens, he confronts the stark realities of their love in a society that marginalizes transgender individuals. The film navigates the fragile terrain of forbidden love, identity, and familial duty with a sensitivity rarely seen in South Asian cinema.
***spoilers ahead***
Characters as Portraits
Sadiq’s Joyland excels in its layered, intimate character studies, portraying the silent battles each character fights within their confined world.
Haider’s Rebellion: Ali Junejo’s Haider embodies quiet turmoil, balancing tenderness with a deep yearning for freedom. Constrained by his father’s expectations and mocked for allowing his wife, Mumtaz, to work, Haider’s inertia mirrors the oppressive weight of tradition. The ocean—a recurring motif—represents the liberation he has never known. In the film’s poignant ending, Haider stepping into the ocean becomes a moment of painful self-discovery, suggesting that freedom often demands profound loss.
Biba’s Enigmatic Resilience: Alina Khan’s Biba is a revelation, navigating her life with a blend of defiance and vulnerability. As a trans woman, Biba’s struggles extend beyond societal prejudice to moments of internal conflict, reflected in her tense encounter with Haider. Yet her declaration that her transitioning is “only for herself” asserts her autonomy with quiet but radical power, defying a world that refuses her that right.
Mumtaz’s Heartbreak: Rasti Farooq’s Mumtaz anchors the film emotionally, portraying a woman whose fleeting glimpses of independence are snatched away by societal and familial constraints. The ocean, for Mumtaz, symbolizes the freedom she could never fully claim. Her descent into despair, as the burden of caregiving traps her further, is devastatingly portrayed. Her journey resonates as a poignant critique of how women’s desires are so often sacrificed on the altar of tradition.
An Ensemble's Impact: The ensemble cast, including Rasti Farooq as Mumtaz, Sohail Sameer as Haider's brother, Sarwat Gilani as the sister-in-law, and Sania Saeed as Fayyaz, a family friend and widow, further enhances the film's emotional resonance. A shared thread of unfulfilled desires ties them together: from the patriarch clinging to outdated notions of masculinity to Mumtaz, whose tragic fight for autonomy forms the heart of the story. Together, they turn Joyland into more than just a tale of individuals—it becomes a haunting reflection of a family trapped between tradition and longing.
Visual and Symbolic Landscapes
Joyland doesn’t just tell a story—it creates a visceral world where symbolism enriches every frame.
Biba’s Introduction at the Hospital: One of the film’s most poignant scenes is Biba’s introduction at the hospital, where her presence disrupts the mundanity of a rigid, binary world. This moment captures the everyday struggles of queer individuals in a society that both invisibilizes and scrutinizes them. It’s a quiet yet powerful confrontation, emblematic of the larger societal discomfort with those who exist outside the norm.
The Ocean as Longing: The ocean is a recurring motif, evoking freedom and self-discovery. For Haider, who has never seen it, the ocean symbolizes a life unbound by his family’s suffocating expectations. For Mumtaz, who once touched its edges but was never allowed to fully enter, it’s a cruel reminder of all that was taken from her. Biba’s moment at French Beach—an act of claiming her own space—underscores this yearning for liberation. As someone who has spent years in landlocked places, I understand how rigid routines and fear of the unknown mirror this longing. The ocean becomes more than a backdrop—it’s a metaphor for the expansive possibilities that tradition often denies.
Joyland as a Playground of Liberation: The titular Joyland, a vibrant theme park in Lahore, juxtaposes the stifling tones of the Rana household. The neon-lit burlesque theater becomes a metaphorical playground where characters confront their desires and, for fleeting moments, escape societal constraints. For those of us raised in rigid societal structures, this metaphor resonates deeply—it’s about yearning for a life far bigger than the walls we’ve inherited.
The Cut-Out of Biba: One of the film’s most striking visual motifs is Biba’s towering cut-out, looming over Haider and his scooter. This singular image encapsulates the collision of Haider’s desires with his family’s fragile order. In an interview, Sadiq remarked how the mere presence of a trans woman, represented by the cut-out, unsettles the Rana family’s sense of stability. It’s a potent reminder of how visibility itself can become an act of defiance in spaces designed to erase difference. This image, where desire, fear, and transgression collide, lingers long after the film ends.
Cinematic Realization
Saim Sadiq’s directorial vision is both intimate and evocative, crafting a world that feels deeply personal yet universally resonant. His ability to balance the real and the dreamlike creates an atmosphere that draws the audience into the layered emotional lives of his characters. Through long takes and deliberate tracking shots, Sadiq immerses viewers, inviting them to experience the quiet moments and restrained turmoil that define Joyland. His portrayal of flawed, deeply human characters is a triumph, revealing their struggles and desires with unflinching honesty. Each imperfection becomes a window into the complexities of their world, making them heartbreakingly relatable.
Cinematographer Joe Saade complements Sadiq’s vision with a keen eye for poetic visuals. Haider navigating Biba’s towering cut-out is a standout moment—a visual metaphor for the collision of desire and societal constraint. Another emotionally charged scene is crafted with nothing more than a subtle turn away, encapsulating devastation in its quiet simplicity. The neon-lit vibrancy of the burlesque theater clashes with the muted tones of Haider’s family home, creating a striking visual dichotomy that mirrors the characters’ internal struggles. The confined aspect ratio amplifies this tension, trapping the characters within a world where tradition feels inescapable.
The film’s sound design and score are equally impactful, evoking everything from quiet tension to aching nostalgia. This auditory layer deepens the cinematic experience, weaving an emotional tapestry that lingers long after the credits roll.
The film’s sound design, by Nathan Ruyle, and Abdullah Siddiqui's evocative score capture everything from quiet tension to aching nostalgia. This auditory layer deepens the cinematic experience, weaving an emotional resonance that lingers long after the credits roll.
In many ways, Joyland is a film of silences—its rebellion lies in its restraint. The stillness of its frames speaks volumes, documenting the daily lives of characters silenced and trampled by tradition. The confined aspect ratio mirrors their oppression, visually reinforcing the limitations imposed by their world. Yet, within these constraints, the film finds profound moments of beauty and defiance. It’s in the silences that Joyland finds its voice, revealing the depths of yearning, repression, and quiet resistance within each character.
Social Structures and Representation
Joyland examines the complexities of gender and identity within a deeply patriarchal society. It highlights the struggles faced by women and trans individuals navigating rigid societal expectations. Even Biba, with all her confidence and charm, isn’t immune to the pressures of conformity. Her moment of tension with Haider, charged with internalised homophobia, reflects the complicated dynamics of living in a world that weaponises gender norms against anyone who dares to step outside them.
The film creates a stark contrast between fleeting moments of joy within the neon-lit burlesque theater and the muted, suffocating streets of Lahore. This juxtaposition underscores the yearning for individuality in a society that relentlessly categorizes and confines, leaving little room for authenticity or self-expression.
Despite its historic success at Cannes, Joyland faced bans in parts of Pakistan due to its queer themes and portrayal of gender dynamics. This backlash underscores the precarious space that films like Joyland occupy in South Asia—celebrated on the global stage but silenced at home. The controversy serves as a sobering reminder of how fragile the space is for narratives that challenge traditional norms, and how much work remains to protect and embrace such stories without fear of reprisal.
Yet, amid the constraints and tragedies, Alina Khan’s portrayal of Biba shines as a beacon of resilience. Her character refuses to be swallowed by the family’s crises, holding on to a sense of autonomy that feels like a quiet act of defiance. Her presence not only challenges the family’s fragile sense of order but also offers a sliver of hope—a rare light in a narrative heavy with the weight of societal expectations.
Critical Reflections
As a filmmaker, I deeply admire the craft behind Joyland. Every frame and narrative choice reflects immense thought and care. The film’s emotional depth and cultural resonance are monumental achievements. Yet, certain elements invite reflection.
The story centers on Haider, offering a singular lens into the LGBTQIA+ experience. While compelling, characters like Biba and Mumtaz sometimes feel peripheral. Biba, in particular, is a vivid, layered character whose narrative arc feels prematurely cut short. As groundbreaking as it is to see a trans character portrayed by a trans actor—finally—it’s hard not to wish for more of her voice in a story so deeply tied to her presence.
Beyond the characters, Joyland raises broader questions about South Asian cinema’s portrayal of pain. Global audiences often gravitate toward narratives of repression and resilience, shaping how these stories are told and received. While Joyland is undeniably honest, I do wonder if the need to present pain to a global audience sometimes overshadows moments of resistance, joy, or quiet selfhood. Does the framing of pain dilute the possibilities of other kinds of stories? One wonders.
That said, Saim Sadiq’s choices deserve respect. Filmmaking is subjective, and Joyland is the story he intended to tell. The focus on Haider’s journey is deliberate, not a flaw, even if it leaves space for other perspectives.
What sets Joyland apart is its acknowledgment of the often-overlooked pain of the unknowing partner in a queer story. Mumtaz’s struggles are treated with nuance, adding a rare layer of depth to the narrative.
Despite its imperfections, Joyland resonates deeply. It reflects the lives of countless Haiders, Mumtazs, and Bibas navigating repressive societies. It’s a mirror that challenges us to confront our own silences and biases, making its impact undeniable.
In Conclusion
Ultimately, Joyland is a triumph not because it answers every question but because it dares to ask so many. It invites us to confront the truths of a patriarchal, gendered world while reflecting on what it means to live authentically. Saim Sadiq has crafted a film that is both personal and political, and if it leans into the weight of trauma, it is perhaps because that weight is, at times, impossible to escape.
In a world where queer and trans narratives are frequently erased or tokenized, films like Joyland are essential. Supporting these stories isn’t just an act of solidarity—it’s a step toward dismantling structures that perpetuate silence and marginalization.
Currently streaming on platforms like MUBI and celebrated at international festivals including Cannes, Joyland is a story worth seeking out. Watch it, share it, and let its impact linger with you.
Disclaimer:
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