Mumbai: In an industry often accused of glossing over uncomfortable realities, Anubhav Sinha has carved a niche as a filmmaker unafraid of confrontation. With Assi, released on February 20, 2026, he delivers perhaps his most harrowing and urgent work yet—a courtroom drama that eschews sentimentality in favor of searing realism. Reuniting with Taapsee Pannu after their impactful collaborations in Mulk and Thappad, Sinha crafts a narrative that is as disturbing as it is necessary.
The title Assi—meaning “Eighty”—is a stark nod to the chilling statistic that sexual assault cases in India reportedly reach alarming frequencies. Co-written by Sinha and Gaurav Solanki, the film does not aim to entertain; it aims to indict. Over a runtime of approximately 135 minutes, it dismantles not just the crime at its center but the societal ecosystem that enables it.
A Shattering Opening
The film wastes no time in announcing its uncompromising tone. Parima, played by Kani Kusruti, is introduced as an ordinary Malayali schoolteacher living in Delhi with her husband Vinay (Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub) and their young son. A routine evening after a staff gathering turns catastrophic when she is abducted into a moving SUV and subjected to a brutal gang rape.
The opening sequence is deeply unsettling—shot with handheld immediacy and minimal background score. It has sparked debate for its graphic intensity, yet its purpose is unmistakable. Sinha forces the audience into a position of discomfort, denying the distance that cinematic convention often provides. Rather than aestheticizing violence, he presents it in its raw, chaotic horror. It is a sequence that is difficult to watch—and impossible to forget.
The Survivor at the Center
At the emotional core of Assi is Kani Kusruti’s extraordinary performance. Known for her nuanced portrayals in independent cinema, Kusruti delivers a masterclass in restraint. Parima is not written as a symbol of resilience or a vessel for triumphant empowerment. Instead, she is portrayed as a woman navigating trauma in all its fragmented, nonlinear reality.
Kusruti avoids melodrama. Her trembling hands during medical examinations, the way her voice falters in court, the hollow stare that replaces her once animated demeanor—these subtle choices render Parima heartbreakingly authentic. The film does not reduce her to victimhood, nor does it rush her toward cinematic catharsis. It allows her to remain wounded, conflicted, and human.
In many ways, Assi belongs to her. While the courtroom theatrics drive the narrative, it is Parima’s silent endurance that lingers long after the credits roll.
The Lawyer as Moral Conscience
Enter Advocate Raavi, portrayed with steely conviction by Taapsee Pannu. A public prosecutor hardened by years within a flawed system, Raavi represents the fragile conscience of the judiciary. She is overworked, exasperated, and painfully aware of the odds stacked against survivors of sexual violence.
Pannu brings intensity to the role, blending righteous anger with flickers of vulnerability. Her cross-examinations crackle with restrained fury, especially when confronting defense tactics rooted in character assassination and victim-blaming. Yet Raavi is not depicted as a flawless crusader. She is flawed, occasionally abrasive, and deeply exhausted.
Some critics have observed echoes of Pannu’s earlier performances in Pink and Thappad, particularly in the courtroom confrontations. However, here she tempers indignation with quiet despair, suggesting a lawyer who has seen too many cases collapse under procedural apathy. Her performance anchors the film’s moral spine, even when the narrative veers toward didacticism.
A Gallery of Complicity
The supporting cast enriches the film’s exploration of systemic failure. Manoj Pahwa delivers a nuanced portrayal of the conflicted father of one accused, embodying the denial and defensiveness that often shield perpetrators. Kumud Mishra lends gravitas as an investigator navigating bureaucratic inertia. Revathy appears as a senior judicial figure whose quiet wisdom contrasts sharply with institutional rigidity.
Veteran performers Naseeruddin Shah and Supriya Pathak make brief yet impactful appearances, symbolizing generational complicity and the normalization of misogyny across social strata. None of these roles feel ornamental; each underscores the film’s thesis that sexual violence is not an isolated act but a societal failure.
Crafting Unease
Visually, Assi is stark and unadorned. Cinematographer Soumik Mukherjee captures Delhi not as a vibrant metropolis but as an indifferent expanse—crowded flyovers, dimly lit underpasses, sterile court corridors. The city becomes a character in itself, reflecting urban apathy.
The editing maintains a relentless pace in the first half, intercutting courtroom proceedings with flashes of memory and media soundbites that reiterate grim statistics. The repetition of “every twenty minutes” functions like a haunting refrain. Mangesh Dhakde’s sparse score amplifies silence rather than overwhelming it, allowing the weight of certain moments to settle uncomfortably.
Sinha’s direction is controlled yet emotionally charged. He resists sensationalism, even when dealing with explosive subject matter. The camera lingers not on spectacle but on reaction—on the tremor in Parima’s hand, the clenched jaw of Raavi, the impassive expressions of judges and spectators.
Ambition and Its Burdens
Thematically, Assi is expansive. It critiques toxic masculinity, media sensationalism, parental negligence, and procedural apathy. It even gestures toward Bollywood’s own problematic portrayals of sexual violence. While this ambition is admirable, it occasionally becomes unwieldy.
The second half, in particular, suffers from narrative congestion. The screenplay attempts to address multiple systemic flaws simultaneously, leading to moments of repetition. Certain courtroom exchanges feel extended beyond necessity, diluting the urgency established earlier. Emotional fatigue inevitably sets in—perhaps intentionally, but at the cost of pacing.
The graphic nature of the opening sequence, though purposeful, risks alienating some viewers. It raises questions about the ethics of representation: does depicting brutality in detail foster empathy, or does it retraumatize? Sinha seems aware of this tension, yet he chooses confrontation over comfort.
Reception and Cultural Impact
Commercially, Assi has witnessed modest box office numbers, reportedly earning between ₹6–8 crore in its initial run. Its sobering subject matter makes it a challenging watch in a landscape dominated by escapist spectacles. Yet box office metrics may not fully capture its cultural resonance.
In an era when conversations about consent and accountability are gaining traction, Assi feels painfully relevant. It does not provide the satisfaction of a triumphant verdict or sweeping reform. Instead, it underscores how rare such outcomes are. The absence of tidy resolution is not a narrative flaw but a thematic statement.
Final Verdict
Assi is not an easy film to watch, nor is it designed to be. It is confronting, distressing, and deliberately devoid of cinematic comfort. Yet it is also deeply important. Through powerful performances—particularly from Kani Kusruti and Taapsee Pannu—and measured, incisive direction from Anubhav Sinha, the film compels viewers to examine not just a crime, but a culture.
It may falter in pacing and occasionally overextend its thematic reach, but its core remains unshakable. Assi does not seek applause; it demands introspection. It holds up a mirror to society and refuses to lower it.
Rating: 3.75/5
Strongly recommended for viewers prepared to engage with difficult truths. This is not entertainment—it is a call to reckon with a reality too often ignored.
