A Hindi remake of a Malayalam sleeper hit, ‘Mrs.’ successfully showcases deep-rooted, everyday patriarchy without fanfare

By Shalini Kathuria Narang

Mrs. is a remake that lands

To say that the recently released Hindi film Mrs. headlined by Sanya Malhotra has stirred a chord would be an understatement. Going by the endless reels, the WhatsApp messages, and constant reactions online, it would be fair to say that the movie has stirred the proverbial pot. Mrs., directed by Arati Kadav (Cargo), is a remake of the critically acclaimed Malayalam film The Great Indian Kitchen (2022) by Jeo Baby. The Hindi remake stays mostly true to the original plot, with few deviations.

Mrs. opens with a meeting of two families to arrange a marriage, followed by a wedding. The young bride, Richa (Sanya Malhotra) then navigates her new household with new family members and their “simple demands”. As any young couple in an arranged marriage, she and her husband (Nishant Dahiya) also work out their dynamics inside and outside the bedroom. The deluge of domestic responsibilities that women shoulder unceremoniously every day is beautifully depicted with little fanfare.

While the original Malayalam film briefly touches on the violent response of some men to an activist woman who raises her voice against patriarchal practices, Mrs., sticks to one woman’s struggle, her slowly simmering frustration at the subtle acts of male domination and her final act of defiance.

Mrs. succeeds in showcasing the deep-seated male privilege and patriarchal practices that are a way of life in most homes in India. The scenes like men being served hot meals first, eating separately from the women in the house, not picking up their dishes after a meal and leaving the dining table strewn with leftovers after they are finished, stay with you. The fact that the scenes land just as well in the semi-urban setting in Kerala as they do in the North Indian urban home of Mrs., speaks to the universality of such experiences faced by generations of South Asian women.

The kitchen captures the flavor of the film

The most authentic scenes in the movie are the ones in the kitchen: a variety of gastronomic delights being cooked to exacting perfection by the women of the household. Each step, from the washing to the chopping to cooking and then serving, is showcased with passion and precision, giving cooking shows a run for their money.

The earnest labor behind the gourmet meals is front and center, while the recognition or appreciation for it is non-existent. The absence of any sensitivity toward Richa’s tireless efforts in scenes where the father-in-law (Kanwaljit Singh) remarks how the chutney prepared by her is ground in a food processor and not manually and the difference between pulao and biryani can incite anger and disgust.

The aroma of the delicacies Richa cooks is in sharp contrast to the leaking pipe under her sink. The unresolved plumbing issues are a metaphor for Richa’s simmering frustrations, as she feels trapped in a loveless marriage and a stifling, dogmatic household.

The daughter-in-law’s rebellion, however, is not sudden; we see in bursts her many small attempts to break free. A passionate dancer, the young bride seeks permission to work outside the home but is promptly shut down in the name of current and anticipated family responsibilities. In another memorable scene, Richa, airpods in her ears, dances in the kitchen holding a bunch of coriander leaves as her father-in-law looks on disapprovingly. Her refusal to take down her online dancing videos posted before her marriage is a sign of protest and prepares us for her final showdown.

Patriarchy – ingrained and normalized

The husband is portrayed by Nishant Dahiya as utterly selfish and entirely immune to the needs of his spouse. Visiting relatives are no better. The everyday happenings in the household and the natural dialogues effortlessly bring forth the unquestioned authoritative patriarchal ways of life and its internalization and naturalization by one and all.

The matter-of-factness with which the woman of the house does chores for the men – she even lays out his slippers before his walk –  are highly symbolic but shown without fanfare. These scenes tell us that such seemingly harmless practices under the guise of respect or family values are regressive, and the home is where the societal changes we want need to begin.

Mrs, in line with Queen, Thappad and Sanya Malhotra’s Pagglait, makes a strong statement about societal practices that preserve male privilege and need an overhaul. The final dance sequence of an emancipated Richa who has chosen to follow her path, is a joy to watch and a whiff of fresh air.