Qissa Nagri’s coming-of-age web series, Midsummer Chaos has unleashed Pakistan’s most tongue-in-cheek reviews and reactions across all digital platforms. But is the series really an eye-opener for the kind of content we need more of?
At first watch, you may have given up on Midsummer Chaos. Given up on it, but still enjoyed all the mockery and memes it generated. There’s plenty to make fun of, after all. The actors are seemingly completely fresh. The story probably makes you think: “so what?” and the dialogues seem a little forced. That said, don’t give up on Midsummer Chaos just yet. Get yourself through that first episode and keep watching.
Yes, all the factors mentioned above are what you could judge the work of a seasoned writer/director by, but what we’re watching was created by an 18-year-old with little to no resources. Plus-hundred points for just sheer force of will. Then there is the fact that Midsummer is gaining traction, which Ahmed Sarym, the writer-director of the series notes with some irony, is attention his work never received when it featured stars like Mahira Khan and Zara Abid.
“It’s negative,” he says, “negativity breeds negativity, but I suppose there is no such thing as bad publicity.
“Qissa Nagri has done some dark, serious work before,” notes Sarym. “And when people think we’re taking ourselves too seriously with Midsummer, I feel like they’re doing so without context.”
Midsummer Chaos, says Sarym, is an exaggerated play on the “bubble” within which certain segments of Islamabad society live.
“At one point Alyna says ‘party karte hain!’ Who talks like that? But yes, it is an exaggeration of the kind of things we hear people say and talk about around us.”
Episode 1 gives way to episode 2, where as a viewer you may find yourself caring for the characters, their stories, and the many internal demons they seem to be struggling with. In Midsummer, given the audience for their series, some important themes are conveyed through symbolism and nuance. Are they handled well? The treatment could use refinement, but the message is coming across loud and clear: we have a whole new generation dealing with the same old growing pains. And because they have had so much more exposure to the world outside their hometowns and countries of origin, their worldview is broader. Which means they are often bewildered by the way in which their predecessors deal with their concerns and expect them to as well.
Here the question arises: is the content produced in Pakistan television, film, or digital, catering to this generation at all? Who is telling their stories? Who is telling the stories they want to watch?
“At this point I would be happy to audition for roles created for people my age,” says Sarym, “as would the other actors I know. But there aren’t any roles, because no one is [creating this content].
“The content on TV is full of…misogyny and crying women,” he says. “But nothing for us.”
An interesting point to take from here would also be this: if we don’t know how to approach and portray the subjects Pakistan’s Gen Z wants to watch and talk about, why don’t we just ask them? Instead of an established – but older – playwright trying to write 13, 14 or 22-year-old characters, why don’t we dip into the pool of young and eager talent and collaborate with them? This may seem like an unrealistic ask of production houses sitting on the recipe for success, but it could attract and engage a whole new audience with local content.
And finally, the way in which Midsummer Chaos has not just captured attention, but the imagination of its audience, is interesting too. We don’t react – negatively or positively – to content that doesn’t move us. Clearly Midsummer is moving us in ways that make us uncomfortable. Whether it is the youth of the cast, or the very first-world problems they seem to be grappling with, or the fact that they had the audacity to employ their resources to address the issues of their daily lives, or the fact that you think the series is just terrible, should be up for debate.
After all, art imitates life, and if this is art that is making you question everything from ‘why does this show exist’, to ‘is this what kids think about?’ to ‘is this the Islamic Republic of Pakistan?’, then clearly it is showcasing the conversations we should normalize in mainstream life.