Lights without a screen

Sarwat Ali
March 8, 2026

Can Pakistan cinema be revived through official initiatives?

Bari Studios.
Bari Studios.


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few weeks ago, the Punjab government once again attempted to revive what many describe as the dying filmmaking industry in the province. Since the announcement, however, little has been heard about the initiative. The enthusiasm that briefly accompanied it appears to have faded quickly. Perhaps the festivities surrounding Basant or other developments in the region pushed the matter to the margins. It is also possible that the preparatory steps involved have simply not been deemed newsworthy.

What remains puzzling is why the provincial government has taken the lead on the issue at all. The decline of film production is, after all, a national concern rather than a provincial one. It would appear to fall within the remit of the federal government. The move suggests that the Punjab administration may still view Lahore as the centre of filmmaking in Pakistan, an assumption rooted more in history than in present-day reality.

There was a time when Lahore truly was one of the subcontinent’s major film centres. In the early and mid-Twentieth Century, it stood alongside Bombay, Calcutta and Madras as an important hub of production. For several decades after independence, it retained its status as the heart of Pakistan’s film industry. But the landscape has changed dramatically.

The transformation can be seen most clearly in the television sector. When television broadcasting began in Pakistan, Lahore had a central role. Today, however, most major production houses for television are based in Karachi, even if some programmes continue to be produced elsewhere, including Lahore. The centre of gravity has shifted.

At the same time, many observers argue that the era of conventional cinema may be drawing to a close. Cinema was, after all, the product of a particular technological moment: the ability to capture moving images on celluloid, reproduce prints in large numbers and project them in theatres at a precise speed of frames per second. For decades, it flourished because it was portable. Unlike theatre, which was tied to a fixed stage, film could travel from one town to another.

Today, that technological foundation is undergoing a profound transformation. The future, many believe, lies in streaming platforms and digital distribution. Advances in video production have been so rapid that even long-time sceptics, who once dismissed digital video as inferior, now acknowledge the remarkable quality that modern technology can achieve.

Many people are of the view that the days of the conventional cinema are over.

Technological change is unfolding at an extraordinary speed. What initially appeared frivolous or experimental on many platforms may soon prove far more consequential. The reach of digital media and the scale of its impact are reshaping how audiences encounter visual storytelling.

Another shift has taken place in the viewers’ habits. Over the past few decades, audiences have gradually grown accustomed to consuming entertainment at home. The process began with the arrival of the VCR, which made films easily accessible outside the cinema hall. Later, the import of Indian films offered viewers even more choice, often at relatively low cost.

Against this backdrop, the traditional cinema experience has struggled to maintain its appeal. Many of the modern multiplexes that operate today charge prices that large sections of the public simply do not find worthwhile.

Meanwhile, the most significant boom in visual entertainment has occurred in the private television sector. That expansion has taken place largely without state intervention. If the government is determined to support the creative industries, it might be more productive to offer incentives that encourage quality production within this thriving domain, allowing profitability and artistic standards to develop side by side.

There is also the persistent issue of censorship. The rise of streaming platforms has made it increasingly difficult to enforce traditional regulatory codes. Much of the content available online bypasses the conventional structures of control entirely. The result is a landscape filled with obstacles: so much effort is spent navigating bureaucratic restrictions that little energy remains for the creative endeavour itself.

In that sense, the question is no longer simply about reviving the cinema of the past. It is about understanding how storytelling, technology and audiences have all changed and whether policy-makers are prepared to confront that new reality.


The writer is a culture critic based in Lahore.

Lights without a screen