Karan Kandhari’s Debut Feature ‘Sister Midnight’ is a Feral, Feminist Fable From Mumbai’s Streets

Karan Kandhari’s debut feature “Sister Midnight” is a film that defies easy categorization, and that’s precisely its strength. This Mumbai-set dark comedy follows Uma (Radhika Apte), a newlywed trapped in an arranged marriage that feels more like a prison sentence than a partnership. What begins as a sharply observed domestic satire gradually morphs into something wilder and more dangerous—a genre-bending exploration of female rage that channels everything from Buster Keaton to Roman Polanski’s “Repulsion.”

A Marriage Made in Misery

The film’s opening act introduces us to Uma and her hapless husband Gopal (Ashok Pathak), two social misfits whose families essentially “packed them off together,” as one cruel neighbor observes. As the Washington Post notes, they are “mismatched in expectations, personality and everything else”—he’s withdrawn and inexperienced, she’s a born rebel who chafes at being expected to play house. When Gopal consummates their marriage with a swift handshake, Uma’s disgusted reaction sets the tone for their thoroughly dysfunctional dynamic.

Kandhari, drawing from his background in short films, demonstrates a keen eye for visual comedy in these early scenes. The influence of deadpan masters like Jacques Tati and Wes Anderson is evident in the film’s careful framing and precise timing, though Kandhari brings his own Mumbai sensibility to the mix. The result feels both familiar and fresh—domestic comedy with distinctly Indian rhythms and concerns.

The Descent Begins

Uma’s frustration with her constrained domestic role—learning to cook from a magnificently bored neighbor (Chhaya Kadam) while being left alone in their cramped one-room apartment—gradually gives way to something darker. As RogerEbert.com’s Peyton Robinson observes, “the pot has boiled over and set the whole house aflame.” Uma begins venturing into nighttime Mumbai, taking a cleaning job and finding unexpected kinship with a group of trans sex workers who recognize her alienation.

It’s here that “Sister Midnight” begins its transformation from social comedy to something more unsettling. The New York Times’ Natalia Winkelman notes how Uma’s “malaise turns macabre,” with her psychological distress manifesting as literal, supernatural hunger. The film’s tonal shift from realism to horror-adjacent surrealism mirrors Uma’s own psychological break, though Kandhari maintains the dark comedy throughout.

The film’s poster—a deliberate riff on “Taxi Driver”—signals its intentions clearly. Where Scorsese’s film explored toxic masculinity in urban isolation, “Sister Midnight” asks, “What causes a woman to fly off the handle?

Genre-Bending Brilliance

What sets “Sister Midnight” apart is how confidently it navigates these tonal shifts. As Mashable’s review emphasizes, Kandhari “masterfully embraces the monstrous-feminine to blend genres and disrupt gender role expectations.” The film becomes a creature feature of sorts, but one where the monster is female rage given supernatural form. When Uma gives in to her most authentic cravings, she becomes “noticeably healthier,” suggesting that her supposed madness might actually be a form of liberation.

Radhika Apte delivers what can only be described as a fearless performance, fully committed to Uma’s journey from frustrated housewife to something altogether wilder. Her physical comedy in the early scenes gives way to increasingly unhinged behavior that somehow remains sympathetic. As Robinson notes, “Apte remains the glue holding it all together as the film imagines its prototype of the monstrous feminine.”

When Creativity Meets Its Limits

However, “Sister Midnight” isn’t without its flaws. Multiple reviewers, including those from RogerEbert.com and the New York Times, note that the film begins to lose steam in its latter half. The Variety review describes it as hitting “the same few notes ad nauseam,” while Rotten Tomatoes critics pointed to “tonal whiplash” that becomes “more baffling than it is satisfying.” The repetitive pattern of Uma’s nocturnal wanderings and increasingly extreme behavior can feel stifling—though as the New York Times astutely observes, “if it’s troubling to us, just imagine how Uma feels.”

The film’s “shapeless and sometimes confusing midsection,” as Winkelman puts it, reflects Kandhari’s preference for imagery over dialogue and atmosphere over plot. This approach works brilliantly in the film’s first half but becomes more problematic as the supernatural elements take over and the social commentary gets muddied.

A Punk Rock Feminist Statement

Despite these structural issues, “Sister Midnight” succeeds as both entertainment and statement. The film arrives with a 96% critical score on Rotten Tomatoes, suggesting that critics have largely embraced its audacious approach. Paul Banks of Interpol provides a simmering score that perfectly complements the film’s punk rock aesthetic, while Kandhari’s direction maintains visual coherence even as the narrative spirals into controlled chaos.

The film’s poster—a deliberate riff on “Taxi Driver”—signals its intentions clearly. Where Scorsese’s film explored toxic masculinity in urban isolation, “Sister Midnight” asks, as Robinson notes, “What causes a woman to fly off the handle? What might that look like?” The answer is both hilarious and horrifying, a reminder that women’s rage, when finally unleashed, can be just as destructive as any man’s.

Final Verdict

“Sister Midnight” is ultimately a film for the weirdos, the misfits, the ones who don’t quite fit into society’s prescribed roles. It’s messy, uneven, and occasionally frustrating—but it’s also wildly original and uncompromisingly bold. Kandhari has created something genuinely unique: a feminist horror-comedy that uses genre conventions to explore very real social issues while never losing its sense of humor.

The film may stumble in its final act, but its first hour is so inventive and Apte’s performance so committed that these flaws feel minor. “Sister Midnight” announces Kandhari as a filmmaker to watch and offers a gleefully subversive take on domestic expectations that will stick with you long after the credits roll. In a film landscape often afraid to take real risks, this is the kind of wild, uncompromising cinema we need more of.