Prime numbers are those numbers that cannot be broken by anything other than themselves. Your mother is a prime number too.
It's quite disappointing to realize that a well-directed movie went unnoticed at its release, only to gain recognition much later. Mrs. is one such film that I only discovered after its trailer unexpectedly appeared in my YouTube feed. Instantly intrigued, I decided to watch the full movie—despite it being released on November 17, 2023, nearly a year and a half ago. Recently, scenes from the film have gone viral across social media, drawing renewed attention to its powerful narrative.
Today, we delve into the female-centric drama, Mrs.—a film that deserves the spotlight.
Cast: Sanya Malhotra, Nishant Dahiya, Kanwaljit Singh, Aparna Ghoshal, Nitya Moyal, Viraj Mundkar, Varun Badola, Loveleen Mishra, Harshika Kewalramani, Mrinal Kulkarni, Girish Dhamija, Gulsita, Aaryan Arora
Director: Arati Kadav
Synopsis:
The storyline of Mrs. is deceptively simple yet deeply thought-provoking. It follows Richa, a young, energetic dancer who is drawn to Diwakar, a male gynaecologist, and makes a life-changing decision to marry him. Unaware of the deeply patriarchal family she is about to enter, she walks into an extravagant wedding, placing her trust in a man she has known for only a few hours. From the very first night, the film establishes its premise through brilliant dialogues and a sharp screenplay that subtly hints at the underlying misogyny. As Richa eagerly checks herself in the mirror, excited for the new life she envisioned, she passes the time by unwrapping wedding gifts—only to find an array of kitchen utensils, subtly defining the role expected of her.
Her husband's first words to her aren’t of affection or concern but a cold, transactional statement: "I will sleep on this side, and the AC should be set to 21 degrees." There’s no inquiry about her comfort, no acknowledgement of her presence beyond an unspoken obligation. The next day, she is perplexed when she is expected to lay out Diwakar’s clothes for him, even though he is free and perfectly capable of doing it himself. Observing her mother-in-law, she sees history repeating itself—an educated woman with a PhD in Economics, reduced to fulfilling the smallest needs of her husband, who could very well do them himself.
Things take a darker turn when Richa expresses her desire to take up a part-time job as a dance teacher. Her husband and father-in-law are quick to dismiss the idea, insisting she keep it as just a hobby since Diwakar is already earning for the family. They point to her mother-in-law as the ideal example—a woman who once had career ambitions but chose family over professional success. Her frustration deepens as she tries to win over her in-laws by cooking for them, only to be met with constant criticism. No matter how much effort she puts in, her emotions and sentiments are disregarded. The family sees her not as an individual with dreams and desires, but as someone whose sole purpose is to serve and care for them.
Review:
A Powerful Remake That Stands Tall
For those unfamiliar with the original, Mrs is a near-faithful remake of the Malayalam film The Great Indian Kitchen. While it may not capture the raw intensity of the original, this film holds enough merit to stand on its own. With a compelling narrative, impactful performances, and a strong social message, this film should be required viewing for couples navigating the complexities of marriage.
A Bold Examination of Gender Roles
The Confinement of Domestic Expectations
Richa, the protagonist, finds herself relegated to the kitchen, expected to cater to her doctor husband, demanding father-in-law and mother-in-law still bound by patriarchal norms. Her meticulous efforts in preparing meals are met with indifference or faint praise. Even basic household repairs are ignored, mirroring the cracks forming in her marriage. The suffocating domesticity is further reinforced by an overbearing aunt dictating the rules of Karva Chauth and a visiting uncle who constantly demands refreshments.
A Sanitized but Still Impactful Adaptation
Compared to The Great Indian Kitchen, the Hindi remake tones down some of the more visceral depictions. The Malayalam original's graphic imagery—such as the nauseating filth of a clogged kitchen sink—hits harder than the relatively sanitized visuals in Mrs Additionally, the original's stark portrayal of menstrual taboos and religious restrictions, such as the ban on women entering the Sabarimala temple, is softened in the remake. Instead of being exiled during her period, Richa is simply told to "rest" for a few days. This shift, while understandable given contemporary sensitivities, slightly dilutes the film’s critical edge.
A Story That Echoes Across Generations
One of Mrs's greatest strengths lies in its nuanced portrayal of generational conditioning. The film refrains from villainizing Richa’s mother or mother-in-law, instead showing how they, too, are products of a deeply ingrained system. Despite their own sacrifices, they unconsciously perpetuate the same cycle of oppression. A particularly poignant moment occurs when Richa’s mother-in-law visits her pregnant daughter and instinctively takes over the kitchen, illustrating how ingrained these roles are.
The Invisible Labor of Women
The film masterfully highlights how domestic labour is not only gendered but also shaped by class and caste. While Richa is expected to be the perfect wife, another scene exposes how a domestic worker receives no sympathy during her menstrual cycle because her labour is essential and unavoidable. This stark contrast further underscores the dehumanization women face based on their social standing.
A Career-Defining Performance
Sanya Malhotra delivers her most mature and nuanced performance to date, capturing the slow erosion of Richa’s spirit. Her transformation from an eager, hopeful bride to a woman suffocating in a gilded cage is profoundly affecting. Her expressive body language conveys more than words ever could, making her struggles deeply relatable. The supporting cast, particularly Varun Badola, also shines—his portrayal of a seemingly progressive yet deeply patriarchal brother-in-law is chillingly realistic.
Missed Opportunities in Key Moments
Despite its strengths, Mrs falters in some areas. The climactic dance sequence, meant to symbolize Richa’s reclaiming of her independence, lacks the emotional and visual impact needed to drive the moment home. The choreography and cinematography fail to capture the catharsis of her liberation, making the scene feel underwhelming. Additionally, the final confrontation, where Richa finally voices her frustrations, leans too heavily into didactic dialogue. Given how effectively the film conveys its themes through silence and subtle moments, this overt explanation feels unnecessary.
A Reflection of Society’s Deep-Rooted Issues
Ultimately, Mrs holds up a mirror to the quiet, insidious ways patriarchy operates within seemingly progressive households. It is a film that lingers long after the credits roll, leaving viewers with a sense of unease and introspection. While it may not be as raw as The Great Indian Kitchen, it remains a significant and necessary piece of cinema that sparks conversation about gender roles, domestic labour, and the value of women's contributions—both within and beyond marriage.
The Last Word
To all the amazing women out there, let's take a moment to appreciate the women in our homes—whether they are cooks, house helpers, or other female staff. Their contributions are invaluable in shaping our daily lives. Let’s stand up for their rights, acknowledge their hard work, and foster a sense of unity among women. By supporting one another, we can create meaningful change that uplifts all women, both within our homes and in the world.
More Recommendation:
If you enjoyed Mrs., I have a few more recommendations that highlight women's strength and resilience. Dr Cha (K-drama) tells the story of a woman who sacrifices her career for her family but later rediscovers her identity. Lapatta Ladies explores women's autonomy in a thought-provoking way. The essay My Mother Never Worked sheds light on the unrecognized labour of homemakers, while Labour by Paris Paloma is a powerful song about women’s unseen efforts.
These stories remind us of the silent strength women display every day. Let’s continue to recognize, respect, and empower the women around us.
