Kukri: The Untold Story of Serial Killer Javed Iqbal

agar Mera bas Chala na TU ma in ka jaisa jitna bhi log pori dunya ma ha in sab ko waisa hi Mari jaisa inho na in masom logo ko mara ho ma kasam sa ka raha ho Agra koi aisa Banda Mera samna ay na TU ma is ko Marna ma 1 second bhi ni Lago ga 🫥🫥🫥

Javed Sheikh, the most prolific serial killer of the Indian subcontinent, abducted, raped, and killed 100 children, then dismembered and dissolved their bodies in acid before draining them into the local river. So, a movie based on such a person has a lot of options and opportunities to explore the usual modus operandi, the details and gore of the crimes themselves, the motives and psyche of the criminal, or the failure of the society and system where hundreds of kids went missing unnoticed and no efforts were made to find them or to probe the reason. Kukri does neither of these. The writing is lazy; even the Wikipedia page about Javed has more structure and research. The whole cast hams throughout the film, so much so that a street play performance would appear as subtle and nuanced. Nothing worth noticing on the technical side either. This must be the most unmotivated and uninspired filmmaking I have come across.

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!

Kukri: The Untold Story of Serial Killer Javed Iqbal