Füge eine Handlung in deiner Sprache hinzuThe story of serial killer Javed Iqbal, who sexually abused and killed more than 100 children in Lahore between 1998 and 1999.The story of serial killer Javed Iqbal, who sexually abused and killed more than 100 children in Lahore between 1998 and 1999.The story of serial killer Javed Iqbal, who sexually abused and killed more than 100 children in Lahore between 1998 and 1999.
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Based on the story of the infamous serial killer, Javed Iqbal, who terrorised Lahore in the 1990s by raping and murdering over 100 children, Kukri fearlessly tackles one of the darkest and most complex chapters in Pakistan's history. It is an exceptionally courageous endeavor, unflinchingly portraying the dread and fear that cast a somber shadow on our nation's history.
Directed and written by Abu Aleeha, Kukri immerses viewers in an unsettling ambiance right from the start. With extensive disclaimers, haunting scenes of children at play, and an ominous musical score, the film constantly reinforces what lies ahead, creating an eerie atmosphere that keeps audiences on edge. We see a badass female officer (Ayesha Omar) capturing a man who harassed and possibly murdered women and a police commissioner ironically named Malik Riaz dealing with the brouhaha surrounding a letter sent by Javed Iqbal to the Jang newspaper editor, Mr Khawar Nadeem Hashmi.
Soon, we see a bespectacled Iqbal in a plain shalwar kameez coming out of a police van, greeting those around him and later enjoying being interrogated by the police.
Deviating from the prevalent trend of glorification in our industry, Kukri takes the path of realism, providing a rare depiction that focuses on facts and the truth. The film eschews the conventional expectations associated with on-screen villains and instead offers a genuine portrayal of the character, delving into the depths of authenticity rather than resorting to cinematic stereotypes.
The movie also features some fine acting by Yasir Hussain, Rabiya Kulsoom, and Ayesha Omar, who went all out with their respective performances. One dialogue, "Mere bache ko dhondna mera nasha bun chuka hai delivered by Kulsoom particularly stood out for me due to the combination of good writing and delivery.
That said, the movie at times veers into parent-shaming, tone-deaf comedy, excessive romanticisation of the Urdu language, and an unnecessarily preachy attitude, detracting from its overall impact. But we all know why.
In the same vein, unnecessary drama caused by the sudden realisations of the police was quite annoying, however, the scenes featuring a slimy journalist and Ayesha Omar's character scolding her male counterparts were very engaging and hit where it hurts! Interestingly, the movie provides a thread of information for the audience to unravel, allowing them to gradually unfold the intricate details and uncover deeper layers of the story - perhaps the only good thing that came out of extreme censorship!
Directed and written by Abu Aleeha, Kukri immerses viewers in an unsettling ambiance right from the start. With extensive disclaimers, haunting scenes of children at play, and an ominous musical score, the film constantly reinforces what lies ahead, creating an eerie atmosphere that keeps audiences on edge. We see a badass female officer (Ayesha Omar) capturing a man who harassed and possibly murdered women and a police commissioner ironically named Malik Riaz dealing with the brouhaha surrounding a letter sent by Javed Iqbal to the Jang newspaper editor, Mr Khawar Nadeem Hashmi.
Soon, we see a bespectacled Iqbal in a plain shalwar kameez coming out of a police van, greeting those around him and later enjoying being interrogated by the police.
Deviating from the prevalent trend of glorification in our industry, Kukri takes the path of realism, providing a rare depiction that focuses on facts and the truth. The film eschews the conventional expectations associated with on-screen villains and instead offers a genuine portrayal of the character, delving into the depths of authenticity rather than resorting to cinematic stereotypes.
The movie also features some fine acting by Yasir Hussain, Rabiya Kulsoom, and Ayesha Omar, who went all out with their respective performances. One dialogue, "Mere bache ko dhondna mera nasha bun chuka hai delivered by Kulsoom particularly stood out for me due to the combination of good writing and delivery.
That said, the movie at times veers into parent-shaming, tone-deaf comedy, excessive romanticisation of the Urdu language, and an unnecessarily preachy attitude, detracting from its overall impact. But we all know why.
In the same vein, unnecessary drama caused by the sudden realisations of the police was quite annoying, however, the scenes featuring a slimy journalist and Ayesha Omar's character scolding her male counterparts were very engaging and hit where it hurts! Interestingly, the movie provides a thread of information for the audience to unravel, allowing them to gradually unfold the intricate details and uncover deeper layers of the story - perhaps the only good thing that came out of extreme censorship!
- fizzaabbaswrites
- 18. Juli 2024
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By what name was Kukri: The Untold Story of Serial Killer Javed Iqbal (2023) officially released in Canada in English?
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