Anubhav Sinha, in Assi, is not subtle, but he doesn't care to be. What's fascinating is that he finds a cinematic form that matches his frankness.
Nothing in Anubhav Sinha's filmography prepares you for Assi. It's inevitable that this courtroom drama will be compared to Mulk, which also starred Taapsee Pannu, but such comparisons would be superficial and shallow. What distinguishes this drama, despite Sinha's usual dose of anger, is its refusal to let fiction eclipse reality. Sinha doesn't "immerse" you, doesn't blur the boundaries of the screen. He keeps you constantly aware of the reality unfolding outside the courtroom. Assi never "transports" you anywhere like most films do.
Director: Anubhav Sinha
Writers: Anubhav Sinha, Gaurav Solanki
Stars: Mohd. Zeeshan Ayyub, Jatin Goswami, Ananya Goyal
It places you in a position where you remain attentive to both what's happening on screen and what's happening outside. The two feed off each other intensely. Sinha achieves this effect with a red screen, a red screen with the inscription "20 Minutes." These interruptions serve as a reminder that a rape is being committed somewhere while you sit in the theater watching the film, and that it will continue to happen every twenty minutes, long after the finale. Sinha leaves you with a ticking time bomb that explodes and resets itself; or rather, that has been exploding and resetting itself for a very long time.
After all, he has a character named Kartik (Kumud Mishra), who was apparently sent out of India to do his duty. He says something like, "What's the point of decorating the border if your own house is on fire?" Sinha essentially questions the celebration of the "kill the outsiders" narrative when internal rot is allowed to spread uncritically. Films like Dhurandhar and Border 2, both box-office hits, deal with enemies invading the country.
Well, for starters, what about the rapists? These men aren't Chinese, Pakistani, or Bangladeshi. Most of the time, they're close relatives. With 80 rape cases reported every day, what are we really celebrating? In Assi, Sinha attacks incompetent law enforcement officers who make up "monkey excuses," musicians who create songs like Fevicol Se, and ordinary citizens who dance to these vulgar rhythms and turn them into hits. The 60-year-old director denounces our double standards by suggesting that, on the one hand, we condemn rapists, and on the other, we move to the beat of lyrics like "Main to tandoori murgi hoon yaar, Gatkale saiyaan alcohol se."
That's why Sinha believes our moral stance is often weak. All we can do is post videos expressing our frustration on social media. Moreover, that frustration leads some of us to channel our own "beast" in the name of revenge. A mysterious Umbrella Man eliminates the rapists of Parima (Kani Kusruti) one by one, and some are inspired by him to commit more murders.
One of them ends up murdering a woman, indicating that these individuals simply want to spill blood. They aren't truly aligned with any ideology and use any excuse to unleash their evil. It's telling that these vigilantes are all men. Their male ego drives them to make everything, even a crime committed against a woman, revolve around themselves. And what about the women? Raavi (Pannu) says that women are angrier, but they aren't interested in burning the world down. Parima also mentions that she was pleased to learn that someone killed one of the accused, though that doesn't mean she'll go on a killing spree to satiate herself.
However, not all the women in Assi are completely innocent or morally aware. A sister defends her brother in court; Supriya Pathak's character tells her husband to accept the fabricated story about a stolen car as the truth; and a song like Fevicol Se is also a hit with the women. The rapists in Assi aren't thugs or drunks. They have families, sisters, and girlfriends. They are products of an environment where sexism is so pervasive and accepted that Deepraj (Manoj Pahwa), casually and in front of a girl, educates his son about the value of a "home-cooked meal" and the "noodles" or "chole bhature" eaten at street stalls (hint: they aren't actually talking about food).
In another scene, a man confidently tells a police officer, in the presence of two women, that rape cannot occur without the woman's consent. How deep is the damage? A WhatsApp group of ninth-grade boys is full of jokes about Parima, and one of them even expresses disappointment at not being invited. Sinha, therefore, wants the new generation to improve. The solution he proposes is early conditioning, as seen in the scene where Vinay (Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub) teaches his son chivalry by asking him to let a girl board the bus first.
This also means that Sinha wants Assi to be seen by both parents and children. There's so much filth out there that it's impossible to protect children everywhere, all the time. Therefore, it's better to educate them about decency than simply give them school textbooks. There's a certain irony, a certain joke, in the fact that Assi received an outstanding rating. Many macho films with a lot of violence are deemed suitable for children by the censorship board. But a line has been drawn here because the board, like most people in our society, believes that children live in another dimension, in a beautiful utopia where evil doesn't exist. The worst part, according to Sinha, is that when the conversation does happen, it unfolds in the raw way seen between Deepraj and his son. It's no wonder, then, that a school principal laments that the institution, while it may have achieved academic excellence, failed to produce civilized children.
How do you truly produce civilized children? By leaving behind the muck that many have clung to in the name of tradition. When Vinay's neighbor reminds him that they grew up well despite their parents' harsh punishments, Vinay counters, saying it's better to forget that kind of parenting and strive to be better with our own children. In that sense, Vinay is the father of the year, a role model that should be replicated indefinitely. He takes his son to court instead of leaving him at home because, as he himself points out, whatever happened to Parima will ultimately affect his home. Ayyub is wonderful in this role; you just want to hug him. Watch how he smiles at his son and reassures him upon arriving at the hospital. Even when he's nervous in the elevator, he taps his bag with his fingers. Ayyub portrays Vinay as a father who doesn't want to burden his son with his own anxiety. Gently, he leads him toward something deeply uncomfortable.
In contrast, Satyajit Sharma, as the defense attorney, directly and harshly attacks a young girl by asking her if she believes her father is capable of sexually abusing him. Sharma is somewhat reminiscent of Ashutosh Rana's Santosh in Mulk. He seems overly dismissive, but operates with a logic that is, at least legally, understandable: the victim has been unable to identify the suspects. His main flaw is that he limits himself to the case at hand. Unlike Raavi and Vasudha (Revathy), the judge, he fails to empathize with women in general, which is why he dismisses a complaint of the rape of a six-year-old girl as "irrelevant."
As expected, Pannu is in top form, and Revathy puts so much effort into her face that her dialogue often feels redundant. But it is Mishra who truly impresses; she brings great depth and nuance to her character. This is a role that could easily have been monotonous, full of sadness and lacking gravity. Mishra, however, takes Kartik's pain and molds a unique personality. As for Kusruti, she achieves something difficult. She conveys Parima's pain and trauma without sensationalism or emotional manipulation. Credit also goes to Sinha for rejecting easy shortcuts. All he does is emphasize his anger with the system.
His rage becomes another protagonist in Assi, and he refuses to be fooled by fantastical solutions. Whoever uses violence, even as a vigilante, will face violence. It's pointless to seek justice from either the system or the individual while both remain broken in their own way. With that reminder from "20 Minutos," Sinha makes it clear from the beginning that there are no happy endings for everyone. That's why Assi doesn't end on a high note; with a melancholic smile, it bids farewell gently. If a rape victim can move on with her life, if she can resume her routines, that in itself is a happy ending: the best one can hope for in today's world.
From a distance, the cars driving along the roads seem normal. If you look closely, one of them could be carrying someone like Parima, desperately crying for help. Sinha connects this image to society itself, which, from afar, appears to function normally, but upon closer inspection reveals men like Deepraj and women like Pathak's character silently fanning the flames of patriarchy, misogyny, and other age-old cruel practices. In Assi, Sinha is not subtle, but he has no interest in being so. What is fascinating is that he finds a cinematic form that matches his candor, one that breaks the fourth wall with confidence and relentless force. He is unapologetically direct. That he manages to remain a filmmaker rather than a brash preacher despite such candor is a significant achievement. In Assi, Sinha discovers a new voice for his material.
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