Director - Anubhav Sinha
Writer - Gaurav Solanki, Anubhav Sinha
Cast - Taapsee Pannu, Kani Kusruti, Revathy, Manoj Pahwa, Kumud Mishra, Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub, Satyajit Sharma 
Duration – 133 Minutes 
 
From the opening moments, Assi hits like a thunderclap. Directed by Anubhav Sinha, the film immediately immerses you in a world where danger lurks in everyday life and justice feels painfully slow. Yet unlike typical social dramas, it refuses to follow a predictable path. It unsettles, it provokes, and it refuses to let you look away — a cinematic experience as uncomfortable as it is necessary.
 
At the heart of the story is Parima, brought to life with haunting intensity by Kani Kusruti. A teacher, wife, and mother, she embodies strength in the ordinary. Her life with Vinay (Mohd Zeeshan Ayyub) is tender and grounded, a stark contrast to the violence that shatters their world. The sequence of her abduction and assault is prolonged and agonizing, forcing the audience to feel her vulnerability in real time — not as a spectacle, but as an immersion in trauma.
 
Once Parima is found, barely alive, the film shifts its focus to survival and aftermath. One unforgettable visual shows women scattering red chillies to aid her — a subtle but fiery symbol of resistance reminiscent of Mirch Masala. This scene transforms the narrative from a tale of victimhood to a meditation on resilience and community, showing that courage can bloom even in the bleakest moments.
 
Raavi (Taapsee Pannu), the lawyer, adds another layer of depth. She believes in justice, not vengeance, even while wrestling with her own grief. Her courtroom presence is a study in controlled intensity: battles are fought with words and conviction rather than theatrics. When Parima removes her dupatta, rejecting the forced shame imposed on her, it becomes a quiet yet revolutionary act — a statement that dignity cannot be stolen.
 
Vinay’s arc is quietly powerful. Instead of grand gestures or anger, he provides steadfast support, modeling a modern, empathetic masculinity. His connection with their son Dhruv, whom he calls “Yaara,” underscores generational change and the hope that empathy can replace inherited rigidity. Meanwhile, supporting performances from Manoj Pahwa and Supriya Pathak illustrate the entrenched attitudes and patriarchal complicity that perpetuate cycles of violence.
 
Yet Assi isn’t flawless. A vigilante subplot featuring the mysterious “Umbrella Man” injects tension but occasionally feels shoehorned, disrupting the grounded realism elsewhere. Despite this, the film ambitiously tackles multiple societal layers: media sensationalism, systemic corruption, the erosion of moral responsibility, and the ways trauma reverberates across families and communities.
 
Finally, the red screen that interrupts the narrative — a reminder that another assault occurs every day — is a brutal, unignorable punctuation. It drives home the film’s urgency: these stories are not fiction, they are reality. Assi may be emotionally exhausting, sometimes uneven, but it lingers in the mind. It is not simply a story of crime or trauma — it is a call to confront complicity, reclaim dignity, and demand a justice that is real, not performative.