Day: March 9, 2025

KARACHI, PAKISTAN — Two Pakistani women sit together on a couch, rehearsing their lines while a director scrutinizes them.

Waiting off camera for his scene is the male lead, an actor blessed with Bachelor hair and fine bone structure. Also out of sight: the Islamabad homeowners, who are holed up in a separate room and whose furniture and knickknacks will be seen by millions of viewers — many from the society that has been their country’s neighbor and uneasy sparring partner for much of the past century.

This is the set of the Pakistani drama Adhi Bewafai, or Half Infidelity — one of what some in other nations would call “soap operas.”

But these dramas, it turns out, are not just for Pakistanis. Realistic settings, natural dialogue and almost workaday plots about families and marriages make Pakistani dramas a hit with viewers at home and abroad — especially in the neighboring country that split with Pakistan in 1947 and is its nuclear archrival today: India.

Television, it seems, is succeeding where diplomacy sometimes can’t.

A glimpse into life across the border

Several thousand people work in Pakistan’s drama industry; the country produces between 80 to 120 shows a year, each one a source of escapism and intrigue. They offer Indians a tantalizing glimpse into life across the border — and manage to break through decades of enmity between the two governments.

Maheen Shafeeq, a research associate at the Institute of Strategic Studies in Islamabad, says there is effectively no relationship between the two governments. Each government is fixed on a single issue it cannot move past — for India, it’s terrorism; for Pakistan, the disputed territory of Jammu and Kashmir.

“The governments are very much opposed to each other,” she says. “They don’t agree what they should talk about.”

Although it’s difficult for Indians to visit Pakistan, where these shows are filmed, they faithfully follow the plot twists and turns through platforms like YouTube, ZEE5, and MX Player.

For those of a certain generation, however, it wasn’t always so easy to keep up.

Kaveri Sharma, a writer in the Indian city of Patna, recalls her mother-in-law and aunt jiggling antennas in the 1980s and 1990s in hopes of catching a signal from Pakistan’s state broadcaster, PTV. It’s how Sharma first realized that the country next door was a drama powerhouse. It inspired her to discover the shows for herself years later, even going on to watch them with her own daughter.

“They feel familiar, but they are also a break from our own lives,” Sharma says. “I don’t see any differences between the two countries. Everything is relatable. I see Karachi and think that it could be Lucknow or Patna. What happens on the shows could happen to me or my friends.”

She had heard only negative things about Pakistan since childhood — that it was the enemy that would take everything from India. The TV dramas have added subtlety and detail to this image for her. She would love to visit, but is unlikely to get the opportunity. So she explores Pakistan through the locations, malls, offices, streets and restaurants depicted on the small screen.

The names of popular Karachi neighborhoods roll off her tongue. Sharma, like Bibi Hafeez in the southern Indian city of Hyderabad and Punita Kumar in the central Indian city of Raipur, raves about the dramas’ universality of themes, the strong characterization and the emotional range.

“Pakistani characters are not only heroes or villains. They have shades to them, and that is very human,” says Kumar, who chanced upon a Pakistani drama through a chunky videocassette when she was a teenager living in the northern Indian city of Aligarh. It was love at first watch.

“They captivated me. We got a cable connection that offered PTV. Then YouTube came and I realized I could search for whatever drama I wanted. I haven’t taken a stop,” she said. “We get exposure to Pakistani life in the scenes, but the struggles the characters have with their relatives are ones I would have with my own.”

Pakistani TV veteran Khaled Anam is delighted by Indians’ enthusiasm for the country’s serials and the barriers they help erode.

“What Bollywood is to India, dramas are to Pakistan,” says Anam, who is based in Karachi and has worked as an actor since the 1980s. He has appeared in many dramas, including the ratings smash Humsafar (Life Partner).

India’s productions go big, while Pakistan’s are more low key

India dominates the movie market in South Asia and beyond, with big stars and bigger budgets. Pakistanis have been exposed to Bollywood films for decades, although the prevailing hostile political climate means they can’t watch them in movie theaters. The bans are mutual, though. India, like Pakistan, restricts content from across the border in movie theaters and TV channels.

And while India is no slouch when it comes to TV production, it doesn’t offer viewers what Pakistan does, according to Anam: simplicity, depth of writing and a limited number of episodes.

“There are 15-minute flashbacks in Indian serials. (The characters) are decked out and dolled up. It’s a fantasy world. The shows go on forever. Everything is ‘DUN dun dun!'” says Anam, mimicking a dramatic musical riff and shaking his hands.

The actors on the couch in Islamabad are rehearsing lines about a woman who is disrespectful and so, according to one of them, is an unsuitable marriage prospect. The delivery and grammar could be heard in virtually any South Asian household.

“Pakistanis are generally emotional people, and that is in their dramas also,” says Islamabad-based director Saife Hassan. “It would take me less than two minutes to explain the plot of the super-duper hit Kabhi Main, Kabhi Tum (Sometimes Me, Sometimes You). It’s about the emotions between a husband and wife.”

Hassan, who began his TV career in the 1990s, says Indians frequently comment on his social media pages and send him direct messages about his work. He even recalls Indian viewers praying for the recovery of a character who was in a coma.

Hassan would love to see more homegrown dramas make it onto platforms like Netflix, as some Indian shows have with great success. But he wonders whether international audiences would understand and connect with Pakistani stories or lives: “The way we think is different from the West. Our shows are not driven by events. They are driven by emotions.”

There is also a lack of raunch in Pakistani dramas, which are family-friendly with little to no vulgarity, violence, or even action. Indians, therefore, are a natural audience for Pakistani dramas, Hassan says. “They are our people. They are like us. They eat like us,” he says. “I love India, and I love Indians. They have grown out of this animosity.” 
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“Parasite” filmmaker Bong Joon Ho’s original science fiction film “Mickey 17” opened in first place on the North American box office charts. According to studio estimates Sunday, the Robert Pattinson-led film earned $19.1 million in its first weekend in theaters, which was enough to dethrone “Captain America: Brave New World” after a three-week reign.

Overseas, “Mickey 17” has already made $34.2 million, bringing its worldwide total to $53.3 million. But profitability for the film is a long way off: It cost a reported $118 million to produce, which does not account for millions spent on marketing and promotion.

A week following the Oscars, where “Anora” filmmaker Sean Baker made an impassioned speech about the importance of the theatrical experience – for filmmakers to keep making movies for the big screens, for distributors to focus on theatrical releases and for audiences to keep going — “Mickey 17” is perhaps the perfect representation of this moment in the business, or at least an interesting case study.

It’s an original film from an Oscar-winning director led by a big star that was afforded a blockbuster budget and given a robust theatrical release by Warner Bros., one of the few major studios remaining. But despite all of that, and reviews that were mostly positive (79% on RottenTomatoes), audiences did not treat it as an event movie, and it may ultimately struggle to break even.

Originally set for release in March 2024, Bong Joon Ho’s follow-up to the Oscar-winning “Parasite” faced several delays, which he has attributed to extenuating circumstances around the Hollywood strikes. Based on the novel “Mickey7” by Edward Ashton, Pattinson plays an expendable employee who dies on missions and is re-printed time and time again. Steven Yeun, Naomi Ackie, Toni Collette and Mark Ruffalo also star.

It opened in 3,807 locations domestically where it performed best in New York and Los Angeles. Premium large format showings, including IMAX screens, also accounted for nearly half of its opening weekend. Internationally, it did especially well in Korea, where it made an estimated $14.6 million.

Second place went to “Captain America: Brave New World,” which added $8.5 million from 3,480 locations in North America and $9.2 million internationally. Its global total currently rests at $370.8 million. Walt Disney Studios is on track to become the first studio to cross $1 billion in 2025 sometime this week.

Holdovers “Last Breath,” “The Monkey” and “Paddington in Peru” rounded out the top five. The weekend also had several other newcomers in “In the Lost Lands,” a fantasy film from Paul W.S. Anderson starring Milla Jovovich and Dave Bautista, and Angel Studios’ “Rule Breakers,” about Afghani girls on a robotics team.

Neon upped the theater count for “Anora” to nearly 2,000 screens after it won five Oscars on Sunday, including best picture, best director and best actress. It earned an estimated $1.9 million (up 595% from last weekend), bringing its total grosses to $18.4 million.

According to data from Comscore, the 2025 box office is up 1% from where it was last year as of this weekend and down 34.2% from the last pre-pandemic box office year of 2019.

“That is the rollercoaster that is the box office,” said Paul Dergarabedian, the senior media analyst for Comscore. “You have two or three down weeks; it can profoundly impact the bottom line and the percentage advantage. But it will come back again.”

Estimated ticket sales for Friday through Sunday at U.S. and Canadian theaters, according to Comscore. Final domestic figures will be released Monday.

1. “Mickey 17,” $19.1 million.

2. “Captain America: Brave New World,” $8.5 million.

3. “Last Breath,” $4.2 million.

4. “The Monkey,” $3.9 million.

5. “Paddington in Peru,” $3.9 million.

6. “Dog Man,” $3.5 million.

7. “Anora,” $1.9 million.

8. “Mufasa: The Lion King,” $1.7 million.

9. “Rule Breakers,” $1.6 million.

10. “In the Lost Land,” $1 million.
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ROME — Pope Francis continued his recovery from double pneumonia Sunday after doctors reported some positive news: After more than three weeks in the hospital, the 88-year-old pope is responding well to treatment and has shown a “gradual, slight improvement” in recent days.

In the early Sunday update, the Vatican said Francis was resting after a quiet night. For the fourth Sunday in a row, the pope will not appear for his weekly noon blessing, though the Vatican planned to distribute the text he would have delivered if he were well enough.

The Argentine pope, who has chronic lung disease and had part of one lung removed as a young man, has remained stable, with no fever and good oxygen levels in his blood for several days, doctors reported in a Vatican statement Saturday.

The doctors said that such stability “as a consequence testifies to a good response to therapy.” It was the first time the doctors had reported that Francis was responding positively to the treatment for the complex lung infection that was diagnosed after he was hospitalized on Feb. 14.

But they kept his prognosis as “guarded,” meaning he’s not out of danger.

In his absence, the Vatican’s day-to-day operations continued alongside celebrations of its Holy Year, the once-every-quarter-century Jubilee that brings millions of pilgrims to Rome. On Sunday, Canadian Cardinal Michael Czerny, who is close to Francis, celebrates the Holy Year Mass for volunteers that Francis was supposed to have celebrated.

Francis has been using high flows of supplemental oxygen to help him breathe during the day and a noninvasive mechanical ventilation mask at night.

Francis was hospitalized Feb. 14 for what was then just a bad case of bronchitis. The infection progressed into a complex respiratory tract infection and double pneumonia that has sidelined Francis for the longest period of his 12-year papacy and raised questions about the future. 
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ASHBOURNE, ENGLAND — This ancient form of football has a rule forbidding players from murdering each other.

Every year, thousands of people descend on a small town in the English countryside to watch a two-day game of mass street football that, to the casual observer, could easily be mistaken for a riot. This is Royal Shrovetide — a centuries-old ball game played in Ashbourne, Derbyshire, that, frankly, looks nothing like the world’s most popular sport. Or any other game for that matter.

“It’s like tug of war without the rope,” says Natalie Wakefield, 43, who lives locally and has marshaled the event in the past. “It’s mad in the best possible way.”

Hundreds of players

Played between two teams of hundreds of players, the aim is to “goal” at either end of a 5-kilometer sector that could take the match through rivers, hedgerows, high streets and just about anything or anywhere except for churchyards, cemeteries and places of worship. The ball is thrown into a crowd that moves like a giant herd, as each team tries to carry it toward their desired goal.

Rules are limited but “no murder” was an early stipulation for the game that dates back to at least the 1600s. Good players need to be “hard, aggressive and authoritative,” says Mark Harrison, who “goaled” in 1986 and is one of multiple generations of scorers in his family.

“You can’t practice,” the 62-year-old Harrison adds. He stopped competing seven years ago and now serves up burgers to throngs of spectators from a street food truck.

“You’ve just got to get in there and be rough. I am a rugby player … I’m also an ex-boxer so that helps.”

Royal approval

Harrison had the honor of carrying the then-Prince Charles on his shoulder when in 2003 the now-King of England opened that year’s game. “He loved it!” Harrison says.

Played over Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday each year, the event is a source of immense pride for the people of Ashbourne in Derbyshire’s Peak District.

Yet, such a unifying tradition is actually based upon splitting the town into two halves between the “Up’ards” and the “Down’ards,” determined by whether players are born on the north or south of the River Henmore.

Don’t park there

On any other days, Ashbourne, around a three-hour drive from London, is quiet and picturesque with a high street lined by antique shops, cafes and traditional pubs. Visitors include hikers, cyclists and campers.

For two days that all changes.

Large timber boardings are nailed up to protect shop fronts. Doorways are barricaded. “Play Zone” signs are strapped to lampposts, warning motorists not to park there for fear of damage to vehicles, which can be shoved out of the way by the force of the hoards of players trying to move the ball.

In contrast, colorful bunting is strewn high above from building to building and revelers congregate, eating and drinking as if it is a street party. Parents with babies in strollers watch on from a safe distance. School holidays in the area have long since been moved to coincide with the festival.

“There are people who come and they have a drink and they’re just like, ‘This is a bit of a crazy thing and it’s a spectacle, and now I’ve seen it, box ticked off,'” says Wakefield, who also used to report on Royal Shrovetide for the local newspaper. “And there are people who are absolutely enthralled by it all, and they get the beauty and complexity of the game and those people follow it year on year.”

Where’s the ball?

Play begins with an opening ceremony in a car park, no less, in the center of town. The national anthem and Auld Lang Syne are sung. Competitors are reminded, “You play the game at your own risk.” A leather ball, the size of a large pumpkin, filled with cork and ornately painted, is thrown into what is called a “hug” of players. And they’re off.

As a spectator sport, it can be confusing. There can be little to see for long periods during the eight hours of play each day from 2 p.m. local time. Players wear their own clothes — such as random football or rugby jerseys — rather than matching uniforms.

On Tuesday, it took more than 45 minutes to move the ball out of the car park. Onlookers stand on bins, walls and park benches, craning their necks to look down alleyways to try to get a better view. “Can you see the ball?” someone will ask. The answer is often “No.”

One person thinks it might be in line with a tree over to the right of the car park, but can’t be sure. Later that day there had been no sight of the ball for almost two hours until rumors started to circulate that the Down’ards scored what turned out to be the only goal over the two days of play for a 1-0 victory.

Deception and cunning

With so many players, the hug can be difficult to maneuver but gathers pace quickly, prompting crowds of spectators who’d previously been trying to get a closer look to suddenly run away from the action. The ball can be handled and kicked. Play can be frantic, with players racing after a loose ball wherever it may take them, diving into the river and up and out the other side.

While strength is needed in the hug, speed is required from runners if the ball breaks free. Royal Shrovetide, however, can be as much about deception and cunning as speed and strength, it seems.

“There’s a bit of strategy involved in that somebody’s pretending they’ve still got the ball in the middle of the hug,” Wakefield says. “And they’re quietly passing it back out to the edge to get it to a runner who has to sneak away in a kind of, I imagine, very nonchalant manner and then leg it down an alleyway.”

A famous goal in 2019 came as a result of the hug not realizing it didn’t have the ball until it was too late. Hidden by two schoolboys standing meters away, the ball was passed to a player who ran, largely unimpeded, for 2 1/2 kilometers before scoring.

A ball is goaled when it is hit three times against one of the millstones at either end of the town in Clifton or Sturston.

The beautiful game

Scorers have likened the achievement to winning Olympic gold. They are carried on shoulders, paraded through the town and celebrated like heroes.

“If you can imagine playing for Manchester United in their heyday and they’re at Wembley in a cup final. You score the winner. You’re there,” Harrison says. Scorers also get to keep the balls, which are repainted and become treasured family possessions.

It is the game, however, that is treasured most of all. “I just live and breathe it,” says Janet Richardson, 75, from Ashbourne, who has been going to Royal Shrovetide since she was a 1-year-old. “I can’t sleep because I’m excited. It’s so lovely to think that all these people still want to come here and watch this beautiful game that we’ve got in our town.” 
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