Director: Arati Kadav Cast: Sanya Malhotra, Kanwaljit Singh and Nishant Dahiya
Starring Sanya Malhotra in a performance so raw it cuts deep, Mrs. is an experience. It simmers like a slow-cooked dish, revealing layer upon layer of a woman’s struggles, her invisible labour, and the suffocating walls of domesticity that close in around her.
A Hindi adaptation of The Great Indian Kitchen, Mrs. does more than just retell a story. The movie’s brilliance lies in its ability to make the ordinary seem extraordinary.
The clinking of utensils, the stubbornness of a leaking sink, the smell of sweat mingled with spices- little details become a language of oppression, one that Richa (Sanya Malhotra) comes to understand all too soon.
Richa is a trained dancer, vibrant, independent, and full of life. Her marriage to Diwakar (Nishant Dahiya), a well-respected gynecologist, initially appears to be the beginning of a beautiful journey.
But beneath the surface, a different reality awaits. Diwakar, despite his modern profession, is a man shaped by tradition. His home is a temple of patriarchy, where the roles of women have long been decided. The kitchen is their sacred space, their battlefield, and their prison.
The screenplay captures the slow erasure of Richa’s individuality. Her love for dance is met with disapproval- first subtle, then overt. The once-affectionate Diwakar begins to measure her worth by the warmth of the phulkas she serves, the neatness of the home, and her compliance with the unspoken rules of their household. His love, like the steam from the kitchen, disappears into thin air, leaving behind nothing but expectations and obligations.
Diwakar’s transformation from a seemingly loving husband to a man who dehumanises his wife is chilling, not because it is sudden, but because it is so painfully gradual. His words, “You smell like the kitchen- the sexiest smell in the world,” initially seem affectionate. But later, when desire turns to disdain, he weaponises the same words: “You smell like the kitchen,” now a rejection, now a condemnation.
A standout performance
Sanya Malhotra does not only play Richa- she becomes her. Her emotions, her suppressed tears, and her weary sighs feel so effortless and natural that you forget she is even acting. Her silent rebellion, simmering anger, and ultimate awakening feel so deeply personal that you don’t just watch her journey – you become a part of it.
Some movies stay with you long after the credits roll. Mrs. is one of them. It doesn’t offer easy solutions or dramatic conclusions. It doesn’t give Richa a fairytale ending. Instead, it forces you to sit with your discomfort, to confront the everyday injustices that we so often overlook. (Agencies)