‘Luv Di Saun’ wastes a strong premise, delivering 150 minutes of broken storytelling, weak performances, and overpriced tickets — proof Pakistani cinema still isn’t making films for the masses.
By Imran Malik | MediaBites.com.pk
Pakistani cinema had a golden opportunity this Eid al-Adha. Three films. Packed houses. A nation desperate for quality entertainment. Then Luv Di Saun walked in — and reminded audiences exactly why they have been quietly migrating to Netflix, YouTube, and pirated downloads.
Starring Farhan Saeed and debutante Mamya Shajaffar, Luv Di Saun is not merely a bad film. It is a symptom of everything chronically wrong with Lollywood — halfhearted direction, spineless scripting, and a disturbing indifference toward the audience that paid good money to sit through it.
A Premise Wasted
Zeeshan (Farhan Saeed) loses his family business and parents, then moves into his grandfather’s old Lahore home, where he falls for Billo (Mamya Shajaffar), a courtesan trapped by a corrupt villain. The premise had genuine emotional potential. What director Imran Malik delivers instead is 150 minutes of narrative confusion, chemistry-free romance, and dialogue so melodramatic it would embarrass a 1990s PTV serial.
The film opens with Zeeshan chasing rats around a house. It goes nowhere. Just like everything that follows.
Pakistan Cinema’s Oldest Disease — The Broken Script
A bad script cannot be rescued by a famous face or an Eid release date. Writer Wajid Zuberi’s first draft appears to have gone directly to the set without a single revision. No character arc. No dramatic tension. No humour that lands. The Hindu-Muslim harmony message — potentially meaningful — is repeated so relentlessly it becomes exhausting rather than moving.
This is Lollywood’s most stubborn illness. Scripts are treated as afterthoughts, constructed around star availability and shooting schedules rather than stories audiences genuinely want to experience.
Half-Hearted Direction and Below-Par Performances
Director Imran Malik showed promise with Azaadi in 2018. Here, he misses badly. A forced Humayun Saeed cameo during the finale literally takes over the film, leaving Farhan Saeed — the supposed hero — with nothing meaningful to do in his own story. Excessive and unnecessary AI effects make the film feel hollow and artificial throughout.
Farhan Saeed tries but cannot rescue dialogue that was dead on the page. Mamya Shajaffar’s debut is unfortunately painful — inconsistent accent, limited emotional range, and styling that does her no favours. The film’s brightest spot is Mehrunnisa Iqbal, who quietly outperforms everyone with what little she is given. Tabrez Khan, as the antagonist, delivers one of the weakest villain performances in recent memory.
Who Is Pakistani Cinema Actually Made For?
Here is the honest question producers refuse to address. Why are tickets priced at PKR 1,200 to 1,800 for films this poorly crafted? A family of four spends PKR 6,000 to 8,000 on a cinema outing — a significant investment for most Pakistani households. When they leave feeling cheated, they do not return next month. They open YouTube instead.
More critically, Pakistani cinema keeps making films for an imaginary audience rather than the real one. The real Pakistani viewer lives in Faisalabad, Multan, and Sialkot — not just Defence Lahore. They want stories rooted in their reality, humour drawn from their streets, and emotions that hit honestly.
Films like Actor in Law and Punjab Nahi Jaungi filled cinemas because they understood their audience completely. Luv Di Saun understands nobody.
Final Verdict
To end a failed 150-minute film with a “to be continued” sequel announcement is not storytelling — it is cinematic extortion. Pakistani filmmakers owe their audiences better scripts, braver direction, fairer ticket prices, and films built for the masses rather than a shrinking elite.
Every substandard Eid release pushes audiences further away from the habit of going to the cinema. That habit, once broken, is very hard to rebuild.
Rating: 1.5 / 5
