‘Assi’ (2026) Movie Review - Anubhav Sinha Finds A New Voice

Nothing in Anubhav Sinha's filmography prepares you for Assi. People will inevitably draw comparisons between this courtroom drama and Mulk, which also had Taapsee Pannu in the lead, but such comparisons would be superficial and cursory. What makes this drama distinct, despite the usual dose of Sinha's anger, is its refusal to let fiction overshadow reality. Sinha doesn't "immerse" you—he doesn't blur the boundaries of the screen. He constantly keeps you aware of the reality unfolding outside the theatre. Assi never "transports" you anywhere like most movies. It puts you in a place where you remain aware of both what's happening on the screen and what's happening outside. Both feed into each other aggressively. Sinha achieves this effect through a red screen—a red screen with "20 Minutes" written on it. These interruptions serve as a reminder that rape is being committed somewhere while you sit in the theatre watching the film, and that it will continue to occur every twenty minutes, long after the movie's ending. Sinha leaves you with a ticking time bomb that explodes and resets—or rather, that has been exploding and resetting and exploding and resetting for a very, very long time.

If the red here reminds you of the red in Dhurandhar, I think the callback is intentional on Sinha's part. After all, he has a character named Kartik (Kumud Mishra) who was apparently sent outside India to execute his duties. He says something along the lines of, "What's the point of decorating the border when your own house is burning?" Sinha essentially questions the celebration of the "kill the outsiders" narrative when the rot inside is allowed to spread uncritically. Movies like Dhurandhar and Border 2, both blockbusters, speak of enemies who invade the country. Well, for starters, what about the rapists? These men are not Chinese, Pakistanis, or Bangladeshis. Most of the time, they are someone close to the family. With 80 reported rape cases per day, what are we actually celebrating? In Assi, Sinha attacks incompetent law enforcement officers who make "monkey excuses," musicians who create songs like Fevicol Se, and ordinary citizens who dance to these vulgar beats and turn them into hits. The 60-year-old director calls out our double standards by suggesting that on one side, we criticize rapists, and on the other, we groove to lyrics like, "Main to tandoori murgi hoon yaar, Gatkale saiyaan alcohol se."

This is why Sinha believes that the moral stance we take is often feeble. All we can do is make videos expressing our frustration on social media. What's more, that frustration leads some of us to channel our own "animal" in the name of vengeance. A mysterious Umbrella Man dispatches Parima's (Kani Kusruti) rapists one by one, and some people take "inspiration" from him to commit more murders. One of them ends up killing a woman, which indicates that such individuals simply want to shed blood. They are not really aligned with any ideology and merely use any excuse to unleash their own evil. It is telling that these vigilantes are only men. Their male ego encourages them to make everything, including a crime committed against a woman, about themselves. What about women? Raavi (Pannu) says that women are angrier, but they have no interest in burning the world. Parima, too, mentions that she felt happy upon hearing that someone killed one of the accused, though that doesn't mean she goes on a killing spree to satiate herself.

Not every woman in Assi, however, is completely innocent or morally conscious. A sister defends her brother in court; Supriya Pathak's character tells her husband to accept the false narrative involving a stolen car as the truth; and a song like Fevicol Se is a hit among women as well. The rapists in Assi are not goons or drunkards. They have families, sisters, and girlfriends. They are products of an environment where sexism is so ubiquitous 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" one eats outside at stalls (hint: they are not actually talking about food). In another scene, a man confidently tells a policeman, in the presence of two female officers, that rape cannot happen without the consent of the woman. How serious is the damage? A WhatsApp group of Class 9 boys is filled with jokes about Parima, with one boy even expressing disappointment that he wasn't invited. Sinha, then, wants the new generation to do better. The solution he puts forward 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.

What this also means is that Sinha wants Assi to be seen by both parents and their children. There is so much filth outside that it's impossible to shield kids everywhere, every time. Hence, it is better to educate them about decency rather than merely feed them school textbooks. There is some irony, some joke, in the fact that Assi has received an A certificate. Many macho films with plenty of violence are deemed suitable for children by the censor board. But a line has been drawn here because the board, like most people in our society, believes children live in some other dimension, in some beautiful utopia where no evil exists. What's worse, according to Sinha, is that when the conversation does happen, it unfolds in the crude manner seen between Deepraj and his son. No wonder, then, a school principal laments that the institution may have achieved academic excellence but failed to produce civilized children.

How does one actually produce civilized children? By letting go of the manure many have held tightly to in the name of tradition. When Vinay's neighbor reminds him that they grew up fine despite strict punishments from their fathers, Vinay fires back, saying it is better to forget that mode of parenting and strive to be better with our own children. Vinay, in that sense, is father of the year—a model that should be endlessly replicated. He takes his son to court rather than leaving him at home because, as he points out, whatever has happened to Parima will eventually find its way into their house anyway. Ayyub is wonderful in this role; one feels like giving him a hug. Notice how he smiles at his son and reassures him when they first arrive at the hospital. Even when he is nervous in the elevator, he taps his bag with his fingers. Ayyub plays Vinay as a father who does not want to burden his son with his own anxiety. He delicately brings him closer to something deeply uncomfortable.

In contrast, Satyajit Sharma, as the defense lawyer, directly and harshly attacks a girl by asking her whether she believes her father is capable of sexual harassment. Sharma somewhat recalls Ashutosh Rana's Santosh from Mulk. He appears overly contemptuous, yet he operates on a logic that is, at least legally, understandable: the victim has not been able to identify the suspects. His main flaw is that he remains confined to the case at hand. Unlike Raavi and Vasudha (Revathy), the judge, he is unable to sympathize with women at large, which is why he dismisses a complaint regarding the rape of a six-year-old as "irrelevant."

Pannu is expectedly in fine form, and Revathy does so much with her face that her lines often feel redundant. But it is Mishra who truly stuns you; he brings reams of depth and layers to his character. This is a role that could easily have come across as one-note—all sadness and no gravitas. Mishra, however, takes Kartik's grief and shapes a distinct individual. As for Kusruti, she accomplishes something difficult. She conveys Parima's pain and trauma without sensationalization or emotional manipulation. The credit should also go to Sinha for refusing cheap shortcuts. The only element he heightens is his annoyance with the system. His rage becomes another protagonist in Assi, and it refuses to delude itself with fantastical solutions. Inflict violence, even as a vigilante, and you will be met with violence. It becomes futile to seek justice from both the system and the individual as long as both remain broken in their own ways. With that "20 Minutes" reminder, Sinha makes it clear from the beginning that there is no happy ending for everyone. This is why Assi does not end on a high note; it, with a melancholic smile, gently bids farewell. If a rape victim can move on with her life, if she is able to resume her routines, that itself is a happy ending—the best one can hope for in today's world.

From a distance, the cars running on the roads seem normal. Look closely, and one of them might contain someone like Parima screaming 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 quietly stoking the flames of patriarchy, misogyny, and other age-old cruel practices. Sinha, in Assi, isn't subtle, but he isn't interested in being subtle. What is fascinating is that he finds a cinematic form that matches his bluntness—one that confidently and relentlessly breaks the fourth wall. He is unapologetically direct. That he manages to remain a filmmaker rather than a bald preacher despite such bluntness is a significant achievement. In Assi, Sinha discovers a new voice for his material.

Final Score- [9/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times