Pakistan’s film industry is often described as a cultural success story after years of decline. Yet this narrative hides a more uncomfortable truth: Pakistani cinema has not survived because of state policy, but despite it. The industry’s relationship with technology — from film cameras to digital production and now artificial intelligence — reveals how deeply politics has shaped its fate.
When Pakistan became independent, film was recognized as a powerful cultural medium, but it was never treated as an industry. Studios were few, technical training was almost non-existent, and public investment was minimal. While countries such as India, Iran and later South Korea built film schools, archives, and production facilities, Pakistan allowed its cinema to depend entirely on private struggle.
This neglect became disastrous in the 1980s and 1990s. As global cinema moved into digital sound and computer-based editing, Pakistani films continued to rely on outdated tools. Audiences, now exposed to foreign content on television and VHS, lost interest in local productions. The closure of cinemas was not just a market failure — it was the result of cultural policy that treated film more as a moral risk than an economic and artistic sector.
The revival after 2010 was driven by technology, not governance. Affordable digital cameras, editing software, and foreign collaboration allowed filmmakers to create films such as War, Teefa in Trouble and The Legend of Maula Jatt. These films did not succeed because censorship loosened or public funding increased, but because private producers invested heavily in modern tools.
However, this growth remains fragile. The absence of reliable state backing means filmmakers carries enormous financial risk. Worse, censorship has become more unpredictable. Films like Joyland and Zindagi Tamasha were celebrated abroad but restricted at home. In such an environment, investing in advanced technology, VFX or ambitious storytelling becomes a political gamble rather than a creative decision.
This contradiction is dangerous. The state increasingly speaks about soft power, national image and cultural diplomacy, yet it undermines its most visible cultural export. Cinema today is no longer just entertainment — it is an industry driven by technology, data, and global platforms. Countries that succeed in film do so because they fund training, protect creative freedom, and invest in emerging tools like animation, virtual production, and artificial intelligence.
Pakistan is at a crossroads. It can either continue treating cinema as something to control or begin treating it as something to build. Without stable policy, research funding, and creative security, technological progress will remain uneven and temporary.
Pakistani filmmakers have already shown what they can do when given even limited access to modern tools. What they need now is not permission, but political commitment. Without it, cinema will continue to survive — but it will never truly grow.
