1 week Ago
Dubai: Recently, I attended a press conference in Dubai for a cross-cultural film project uniting talent from rival South Asian nations. On paper, it had all the makings of a powerful cinematic and cultural moment—ambitious casting, a politically charged subtext, and the potential to bridge divides. Instead, it felt like walking into a minefield.
Even before we entered the room, our marching orders were clear. I received multiple calls from those handling the film's publicity. The list of media dos and don’ts was longer than most press kits.
Words like comeback , ban , cultural exchange , or should art be politicised were strictly forbidden. Questions had to be submitted in advance, and anything with even a whiff of controversy was swiftly struck out. We were told not to mention: The film’s release in politically sensitive regions Any historic bans on cross-border talent Any cultural comparisons—yes, even food or music Even chef-related questions (the hero plays a chef in the film) had to be limited strictly to Dubai and not to his native country.
Decline these terms, and you may lose your interview slot. I half-joked to a local PR, “This feels like RIP journalism.” But the truth is, I wasn’t really joking.
But this isn’t a blame game—just a glimpse into how entertainment journalism now means trading tough questions for access, and watching context quietly disappear. The press conference itself was polished to a sheen. But the room? It had more lifestyle influencers, fashionistas, and energy healers than working journalists.
No disrespect to energy healers, but when did they become the ones asking the questions? Look, I get it. In today’s hypersensitive ecosystem, one rogue quote can trigger a storm. Producers want to protect their films.
But journalism isn’t the enemy here. Context matters. We’re not here to create chaos—we’re here to understand, question, and tell the full story.
We had nine minutes with the stars. So I leaned into what’s safe. Love, heartbreak, finding your soulmate on Tinder—gentle, unthreatening ground.
And sure, it worked. We all got our clicks. But let’s be honest: we also lost something in that moment.
The story's soul. The context. The texture.
This week in entertainment journalism has been especially testing. Earlier this weekend, we were granted access to cover a concert by a legendary, Grammy-winning R&B artist. At the eleventh hour, we were informed that filming of the concert (not even the first three songs) for publishing purposes was not allowed.
Only fan-shot videos could be used by media platforms. It made no sense. The PRs were frazzled.
I don’t blame them. But it’s time they’re empowered to push back against these last-minute, unreasonable requests. Because if not, what’s the point of inviting the media at all? Now back to the film.
To be clear, I tip my hat to the producers of that gorgeous-looking romantic drama. Casting talent from both sides of a deeply divided border is gutsy. It’s admirable.
It’s a move that speaks of unity through art. But you can’t ask the media to applaud the bravery of your choices while refusing to acknowledge the very context that makes those choices bold in the first place. The whole thing felt less like a press interaction and more like a tightly choreographed performance.
A spectacle. A moment of orchestrated chaos made to feel spontaneous. And we? We’re the ones still clutching our laptops, trying to find scraps of authenticity in the stagecraft.
This isn’t even a one-off. At another junket, I was scheduled to interview the cast of Suits —a series that, let’s face it, is practically synonymous with Meghan Markle in pop culture memory. But guess what? I was explicitly told not to mention her name.
Not a single question about Meghan Markle allowed. Bizarre, right? It’s like talking about Friends and skipping Jennifer Aniston. These aren't just PR requests—they're narrative edits.
And while we, as journalists, often agree to these terms for the sake of access, let’s not pretend we’re not complicit in the slow erasure of context and nuance. We used to be storytellers—or at the very least, journalists who stuck to facts. Now we’re expected to smile, stay benign, echo rehearsed lines, and call it a day.
Entertainment journalism, which was far more liberal earlier because of its very nature, didn’t just change. It has lost its teeth. And this week was a clear reminder of how easily narratives can be scripted, edited, and PR-approved before they ever see the light of a headline.
And that’s not just sad. That’s scary. Also In This Package Look: Fawad, Vaani and Amit dazzle thousands in Dubai Fawad Khan in Dubai: Five reasons why he still rocks Qarz-e-Jaan's finale leaves fans in tears and awe Qarz e Jaan: Why is it a game changer for Pakistan TV.
