Why the movie “Mrs” is making waves : A perspective
Some films don’t just tell a story – they expose a truth many of us live with. Mrs. is one of them. A powerful and deeply relatable film, it is grounded in realism, supported by honest performances, and leaves a lasting impact.
Sanya Malhotra delivers a brilliant performance, showing a gradual descent from an energetic, bubbly, and naive woman full of life at the beginning to someone who is lost, fragile, tired, and broken by the film’s finale. Her transformation is heartbreaking yet incredibly real, mirroring the exhaustion so many women feel when their lives are reduced to endless, thankless labor.
She is brilliantly supported by Kanwaljit Singh, whose passive-aggressive behavior is so on point that you almost want to personally hand him that infamous shikanji. Nishant Dahiya, playing her husband, strikes a good balance between being a hardworking man and being completely oblivious to his wife’s desires, ambitions, and identity. Every performance, even from the supporting cast, feels authentic – making the world of Mrs. painfully familiar.
The film doesn’t rely on dramatic outbursts or physical abuse to showcase oppression. Instead, it highlights the quieter, more insidious ways patriarchy operates. There are no violent men in Richa’s life – just ‘decent’ ones who expect fresh phulkas (“not rotis”), chutney made on a grindstone, and spotless clothes, while lifting not a single finger to help. The entitlement is so deeply ingrained that it doesn’t even need to be spoken aloud. And when Richa repeatedly asks Diwakar to call the plumber for the clogged and leaking sink, he ‘forgets’ every time. The kitchen sink, with its never-ending drip, becomes a metaphor for her helplessness – until it finally bursts, much like her patience.
What hit me hardest was how Mrs. reflected my own experiences as a trans woman. I have constantly been told that to be a “real” woman, I must learn to cook, manage a household, and adjust – because, apparently, that’s what defines womanhood. Watching Richa endure similar expectations, I saw how gender roles box women into rigid identities, where their worth is measured by their ability to serve others. There is nothing wrong with managing a home or taking care of a family, but society treats it as a woman’s duty while men’s work outside the home is considered superior. That is the real problem.
Richa’s husband never truly loved her – he loved the idea of a wife. When she finally chooses herself over him, he doesn’t fight for her or even reflect on his behavior. He simply replaces her, proving he never saw her as a person, just a role to be filled. In fact, by the end of the movie, it’s clear that Diwakar has likely already found another woman to step into Richa’s shoes, as if she were just another household appliance that needed replacing.
But what makes Mrs. powerful is that it doesn’t just leave us with her suffering – it gives us hope. At the end, we see Richa reclaim her lost passion for dance, showing that walking away from oppression isn’t just about escape—it’s about returning to yourself. The final sequence, where she dances in front of an audience, is a powerful rebellion. She doesn’t need anyone’s permission anymore – she simply moves, free at last.
Perhaps that’s why Mrs. is making waves. It doesn’t just expose misogyny – it challenges it. It dares women – cis and trans – to dream beyond what they are told they “should” be. And in a world that constantly tries to shrink women into roles of servitude, this film is a much-needed reminder: we are more than what they expect of us.
