SISTER MIDNIGHT (2024)

Sister Midnight follows a newlywed couple struggling in their new domestic situation. But the film doesn’t wait around to show how mismatched Uma (Radhika Apte) and Gopal (Ashok Pathak) are; it instead uses an unexpected mix of genres to create a fable about the woes of arranged marriage.

Uma is a different type of Indian woman. She’s foul-mouthed and opinionated, with very little interest in keeping a well-kept home. It soon becomes apparent that she’s also bitter at being forced to leave her rural country home for life in the lonely big city. Her expectations of life as a married woman are nothing like the reality.

Whilst Uma is delightfully boisterous, Gopal is nervous and wary of his bride. He’s meek by nature, even lacking the confidence to get dressed in the same room as his wife. The angrier she gets at being left home to cook lentils, the meeker the husband becomes. The early scenes where India’s patriarchal norms are examined sensitively without patronisation. Gopal is never portrayed as the bad guy, nor Uma as being difficult; they’re both equally victims of circumstance.

This debut from British-Indian filmmaker Karan Kandhari quickly introduces the couple and their less-than-blissful marriage. Through failed sexual encounters, awkward dates, and disastrous home-cooked meals, the film swiftly sets up their uncertainty with each other and the situation. Kandhari has fun with the camera, initially portraying their flatlined marriage with static shots. Then, as Uma goes on her own journey, the camera zooms around their one-bedroom home after her, heightening Apte’s physical comedy.

Kandhari plays around with gender roles without feeling unrealistic for the Mumbai setting. Uma is the outspoken one, trying to initiate intimacy with Gopal. While she is proudly a modern woman, that doesn’t mean she isn’t forced to settle into a domestic routine. She finds help in her neighbour Sheetal (Chhaya Kadam), who takes her under her wing. Every moment Kadam is on screen, she is a joy, nailing the dry wit against Apte’s frenetic performance.

After attending his cousin’s wedding, Uma gets bitten by an insect and transforms into the feral woman her family treats her as. She gains an aversion to sunlight and becomes pale enough that women ask her what her beauty secrets are (the conversation about Indian women using whitening cream is not so subtly portrayed here). Just as she starts to find her independence, making friends and getting a job, the mystery illness dampens her spirit.

She goes about her life despite numerous unusual occurrences happening. It gets out of hand when Uma gains a taste for live animals, munching on live goats and birds. These animals soon come back to life via stop-motion, as if Wes Anderson made A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (2014). The tiny army of undead, vampiric, stop-motion goats follows Uma through the streets like a macabre manifestation of her frustrations.

All these genre scenes are purposefully made to look whimsical and uncanny because her power is more a state of mind than a physical change. The movie works better as an exploration of a woman going through psychosis from a trapped marriage than a true supernatural horror hybrid. It’s a shame the movie doesn’t appear to know its power, dropping much of the messaging to play around with classic cinema tropes.

Sister Midnight is unlike anything else, yet entirely confused about what it wants to be. Once Uma fully transforms into this primal woman, the movie doesn’t know what to do with her newfound powers. It almost feels like an achievement that a movie this ballsy becomes so lifeless and forgettable by the end. Despite its flaws, the unashamed and novel way it depicts life for a woman in Mumbai should not be ignored.

The third act of Sister Midnight drags on without a clear direction, with much of the comedy and horror getting stuck in a repetitive rut. The film wants to mimic the rhythmical cycle of a boring marriage, but ultimately, that doesn’t make an engaging watch. The last half-hour is simply too mechanical and wastes the potential of this interesting leading lady, and her relatable inner anxieties.

Once Sister Midnight plays all its cards, it fails to hold attention. Despite the charming stop-motion animation, the visual gags soon lose their humour. The movie’s first half works because it’s unpredictable and plays around with genre. The second half of the film wears its influences on its sleeve, unable to match the pace it set itself.

It’s never fully explained what is real and what is due to Uma’s crumbling mind. Usually, it’s beneficial to audiences to leave the supernatural elements ambiguous, but with Sister Midnight, the message gets lost in its zany mix of horror, science fiction and fantasy. The writing is frustrating in having such a smart set-up and ultimately undoing most of the hard work in the final act.

Sister Midnight effectively holds India’s patriarchal society to account, sensitively yet humorously introducing Uma and Gopal’s marriage. The wheels come off when the movie starts to rely on well-worn sub-genre tropes instead of properly exploring Uma’s possible psychosis.

UK • INDIA • SWEDEN | 2025 | 110 MINUTES | COLOUR | HINDI • ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

writer & director: Karan Kandhari.
starring: Radhika Apte, Ashok Pathak, Chhaya Kadam & Smita Tambe.