Thappad is the story of a single slap.
A blow to the cheek that Vikram, angry, frustrated,
a little drunk, inflicts on his wife Amrita
who is attempting to steer him away 
from an escalating conflict.
This is an affluent Delhi home.
Vikram is an ambitious, hardworking executive.
Amrita is a cheerfully dutiful housewife.
They seem snug in their respective roles.
But that night brings into sharp focus the
inequity of their relationship.
It’s almost as if Vikram slaps Amrita awake
from a slumber and then it becomes impossible
for her to fall back into that 
façade of domestic tranquility
in which she is, without a doubt, 
a second-class citizen.
The beauty is that director Anubhav Sinha,
who has co-written the film
with Mrunmayee Lagoo Waikul, 
doesn’t tell this story in a strident tone.
He doesn’t demonize men 
or create shrill drama.
He simply and quietly reveals the patriarchy,
which is embedded so deep into our culture
that even women who are independent 
and successful can’t escape it.
So when Amrita seeks legal counsel, 
even her lawyer Nethra,
a woman with a flourishing career, 
initially advises her to let it go.
She asks – just one slap then
– implying that it doesn’t seem enough 
to create such a fuss.
Women perpetuate the power equations 
as much as the men do.
Vikram and Amrita’s lives are structured
around him and his needs.
Anubhav establishes this from the first scene
in which Vikram is prepping for a meeting
and casually ordering Amrita to get his file,
get the printer fixed.
We see their daily routine – she wakes up
early, gets everything in place,
runs after him with his wallet and coffee 
as he gets into his car.
The nameplate on their house 
has only his name on it.
Amrita and her mother-in-law 
are invisible inhabitants.
But until that slap, 
Amrita doesn’t question any of it.
She has found her happiness in being 
his cheerleader and man Friday.
Anubhav stages the slap with skill.
Sound leaks out of the frame.
Amrita’s face as she walks away is frozen,
like she can’t fully comprehend 
what has just happened.
What happens next is even more telling.
She walks around like a zombie while family
members sagely advise her to get over it.
In one scene, Amrita is lying 
with Vikram in bed
but staring at him like 
she doesn’t know him any more.
Thappad’s power comes from these 
carefully constructed insights.
It’s a tightly knit screenplay
in which a throwaway line tells you 
everything you need to know
– like when Vikram sees their single, 
working female neighbor
drive by in an expensive car, he derisively asks: 
Yeh kya karti hai?
Anubhav and Mrunmayee have created characters
with flesh and layering
and placed them in situations that hit hard 
because they ring so true.
Irrespective of your gender 
or your economic status,
you will see something of yourself 
in Thappad
– in the way that many of the men are 
just oblivious to things outside themselves
or in the way that women 
make compromises, big and small.
They snuff out their dreams because 
it’s what they’ve been taught to do.
The conditioning is across 
class and generations.
It’s telling that the film puts a housewife
front and center.
She is the one to break this endless cycle
of ‘bardasht karna’ and her courage empowers
every woman she comes in contact with
– including her mother 
and mother-in-law.
Thappad’s strength is that you invest as
much in these supporting characters
as you do in Amrita.
The persuasive acting 
lifts the content higher.
Taapsee Pannu plays Amrita 
with absolute conviction
– she has both strength and fragility 
and she doesn’t hit a false note.
You never doubt that the meek 
and happily submissive Amrita
is now taking such a big step.
Watch out for Tanvi Azmi, wonderful as the
long suffering mother-in-law;
Kumud Mishra as Amrita’s loving father
and Ratna Pathak
Shah as her mother.
They share one of the film’s best scenes,
in which the film shows us that sometimes
even the most evolved men 
can be wilfully blind.
And newcomer Pavail Gulati holds his own 
against these veterans.
He and Anubhav don’t let Vikram 
become the villain of the piece.
He's just your average entitled Indian man.
Thappad suffers from a soft belly – post-interval,
the second hour sags for a stretch.
But the film recovers its grip in a masterful
puja sequence in which Amrita bares her heart.
I can guarantee that this scene 
will make you cry.
Because Thappad isn’t just about 
Amrita or Vikram.
It indicts us all.
This film compels us 
to question our complicity.
Which is the first step to change.
I strongly recommend that you see this film.
