In this debut feature by Pakistani filmmaker Saim Sadiq, the protagonist, Haider (Ali Junejo), is introduced playing hide-and-seek with his nieces in the family compound in Lahore. Haider is comfortable with kids in a milieu lorded over by his wheelchair-bound father (Salmaan Peerzada) and older brother, Saleem (Sameer Sohail). But while Haider is a good Muslim husband to Mumtaz (Rasti Farooq), a professional makeup artist, and an obedient son, he is a misfit, and not just because he hasn’t held a decent full-time job in years. He likes being a househusband, even if it means taking care of somebody else’s house and somebody else’s children. But when Saleem’s wife, Nucchi (Sarwat Gilani), gives birth to her fourth daughter, push comes to shove and Haider is expected to make an effort to contribute offspring of his own, in particular a boy to carry on the family name, even though neither he nor Mumtaz are crazy about having kids of their own. But first, he has to get a job, a prospect that upsets the current order, meaning when he goes out, Nucchi will require someone to take his place, and that would be Mumtaz, who really likes the job she has.

This simple setup contains a classic conflict in that Haider and Mumtaz, who are quite close without being terribly romantic or sexually active, possess sensibilities that clash with the tradition-bound prerogatives of their family. The ringer that makes Sadiq’s story unique and utterly compelling is Haider’s new job. A friend who works at a cabaret invites him to audition for a slot as a background dancer to one of the club’s secondary “erotic” stars (which means she lip-syncs provocatively to popular Bollywood tunes). Haider has neither the experience nor the proclivity for such a vocation, but once he sets his eyes on the star in question, a trans woman named Biba (Alina Khan), he is smitten, and endeavors to become not only a capable dancer, but Biba’s lover, goals he fulfills in relatively short order. Of course, he hides the actual nature of his job from his family, but not from Mumtaz, who not only approves, but is envious. When she asks him to demonstrate his new talents he does so awkwardly and she says with a smile, “I’ve never seen you move so much.” Obviously, that’s what love does to a person, but what makes this development so refreshing and revolutionary is that it isn’t framed as a betrayal of Mumtaz, who begins to accept Haider and Biba’s affair, albeit tacitly. Haider’s queerness isn’t an issue for Sadiq—when Biba talks about saving money for surgeries, Haider replies he likes her the way she is. The point is that love makes Haider bolder in action and more of himself, which means he is willing to sacrifice not only for Biba’s affections, but for Mumtaz’s happiness, and, of course, he misunderstands both because he’s naive by temperament. As it stands, Biba is sharp and domineering as both a paramour and an employer because she has to be in order to survive, and once her act starts getting popular thanks to Haider, she wonders what his desires will cost her in the long run. “I have nothing that’s my own,” Haider despairs to Mumtaz, and Biba sees this desperation as confining and misdirected, and eventually pushes him away. Haider returns to his wife to give her the support she needs as both a woman and a member of his family, but she only wants one of those things. The other one crushes her spirit.

Sadiq throws curveballs that keep the viewer guessing as to where the story is going. Early on, when Haider’s occupation is discovered by his family and neigbors in the most hilarious way, we expect the revelation to have ramifications that never materialize, and a subplot about a widow who takes care of the father because it gives her companionship and purpose is played as an illustration of the sour prejudices inherent in tradition, but Sadiq leaves it unresolved, because that’s likely what would happen in real life. The director confounds dramatic conventions in such new and radical ways that the alternatives come across as more vividly plausible and exciting. Joyland is a love story made up of so many intriguing layers that you often forget that it’s set in a world where transgressions against social norms are subject to the fiercest public proscriptions. It makes you feel doubly alive just being around these characters.

In Punjabi & Urdu. Now playing in Tokyo at Shinjuku Musashinokan (03-3354-5670), Human Trust Cinema Shibuya (03-5468-5551).

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