GHOST SCHOOL (TIFF 2025) – Review by Emma Badame

British-Pakistani filmmaker Seemab Gul explores the integral role education plays in maintaining and perpetuating socio-economic power in her latest feature, Ghost School. The bureaucracy and corruption necessary to subjugate populations both big and small are thrown into stark focus when witnessed by the film’s protagonist, a sheltered 10-year-old girl. Although set in rural Pakistan, the film deftly addresses ideas that are unfortunately becoming increasingly universal, seemingly by the day. Ultimately, Ghost Story is a powerful clarion call to continue questioning and actively challenge situations that harm our communities and ourselves.

Aptly taking place at the start of a new school year, young Rabia (Nazualiya Arsalan) heads to her first day of classes only to find that her school has been shut down. The reasons given are vague, but she manages to glean that the presiding rumour is that a Jinn (a supernatural spirit) has possessed her teacher.

While other classmates cheer the opportunity for more free time, learning is the one thing Rabia holds dear, and the unexpected loss is devastating to the young girl. Her spirits are briefly lifted when she learns of a school in the next village, but her hopes are dashed when she learns it is an all-boys institution. Although the adult in her life and in the community quickly comes to terms with abandoning the supposedly now-haunted building and what it represents to the younger generation, precocious Rabia is not. Though her mother is sympathetic, she cannot devote the energy to satisfying her daughter’s curiosity, not with other small children to care for, a job to do, and a fisherman husband away at sea. So Rabia sets out on a solitary journey to get answers and, if possible, to reopen her school.

As she meets various people along the way, Rabia is exposed to diverse opinions on what happened and what can be done. Some locals cling to their superstitions, while others rail against the unfairness of it, though they do little to effect change. The local bigwig landowner is seemingly behind the rumours, but it becomes clear it’s a cover for his real purpose–depriving the lower classes of an education. He firmly believes that learning is a privilege, not a right. And it’s here that Gul’s film lands its most successful point. The prevailing thinking for years has been that education should be available to all, but as fascism and far-right ideology have taken hold across the world, that universal truth has begun to erode. Education, or the deprivation of populations from access to education, has once again become a tool for those in power to retain control. Ignorance is a boon to tyranny and always has been.

In presenting this to the audience through the viewpoint of a startled young girl, one who is innocent of things like bribery and corruption, Gul has expertly driven her point home. Although the systems of unequal power can be complex, the mechanisms by which they are upheld are reasonably straightforward. Enough that even someone newly introduced to them can immediately see that they are unfair and hurting the most vulnerable. A scene that especially drives this point home finds Rabia waiting with dozens of others to speak to the District Commissioner. The longer she waits, the more apparent it becomes that once elected, the Commissioner has no intention of ever listening or speaking to those under his care. Once he gained his power, he turned his back on those who gave it to him.

Gul also introduces us to a particularly corrupt concept prevalent within Pakistan – that of the “ghost school”. As Rabia is given a lift home from her mother’s well-to-do employer, the older woman explains that there are many abandoned schools all over the country, but no one is actually taught there. On paper, the schools exist, so teachers, principals, and local officials are paid and funded; however, there are no students in attendance. Education has become a grift, primarily used to line the pockets of powerful adults. The fact that the group is comprised mostly of men, and that it’s far harder for girls to obtain an education at the best of times, are additional points made here. Gender injustice is as much a problem for girls like Rabia as is the return to feudal systems of oppression.

Rabia’s mother’s employer offers to bring Rabia to her house in Karachi, where she could attend an excellent city school. However, what initially appears to be a genuine offer later proves to be both a helping hand and an opportunity for the woman to gain part-time cleaning help at her townhouse. Rabia’s mother balks at the opportunity, knowing enough of the world to think that maybe it is better for her daughter to remain somewhat ignorant than to be “an educated servant”.

Whether supernatural elements are also at play is purposefully ambiguous. There are moments of doubt and of fear when we finally follow Rabia into the school, but how much is real and how much is imagined is left up to the viewer. Is it just the uncertainty echoing around her, or is there truly higher powers at work? Gul is able to balance and maintain both possibilities, evoking a sense of fantasy and the feel of a modern fable, while simultaneously grounding the story in a contemporary, heartbreaking reality.

The film is beautifully shot (by cinematographer Zamarin Wahdat) and perfectly paced, allowing the mystery to unravel naturally without lingering too long in any one place. The quiet moments sit perfectly, allowing the larger moments to hit that much harder. The supporting characters – from all ages and walks of life – work perfectly opposite the impressive lead, young though she is. It is both a harsh and intimate coming-of-age tale, as well as a reflection of a troubling, growing worldwide issue: the devaluation of education.

Rabia’s quest for truth over superstition, misinformation, and bureaucratic indifference somewhat shames the rest of us for our passivity in the face of our own governmental manipulation. But it’s not so much the destination or ending of Ghost Story that’s important, but the lesson of doing what’s right despite the obstacles placed in our way. Gul leaves the audience, and Rabia herself, with a sense that the journey and the fight are what give us hope even in the darkest times.