No matter where you look in the world, women are subjected to varying degrees of marginalization. Whether it be inequity within the workplace, assignment of demeaning societal roles, or, more seriously, sexual exploitation, we have been constantly fighting the battle for lifetimes. No matter how much time passes, we are still stuck in the same cycle, desperate to break free. Cinema provides an opportunity to educate and inform in an attempt to bring about change in the audience’s mentality. Bikas Ranjan Mishra’s Bayaan, showing at TIFF 2025,offers a cut-throat outlook into the vast struggles of women in India, hopeful in igniting a conversation towards reform. 

Leading her first case, investigator Roohi (Huma Qureshi) is thrown into the deep end with limited time and resources to charge a small town’s revered religious leader (Chandrachur Singh) on accounts of sexual assault and rape against the women of his ashram (temple). However, with his wealth and influence within the town, every step taken forward results in three steps back. Whilst we watch this struggle, the narrative is embellished with excellent pacing, razor-sharp dialogue, and gripping plot reveals, as expected for the crime thriller genre. 

These women are at the core of the film, with each staring down at the ground in fear and shame when being initially questioned by Roohi. From the get-go, it is clear that they all know more than they are letting on and that the brainwashing by their leader is deeply rooted. Mishra understands that their roles, no matter the size, play a large part in building a sense of scale in just how influential Singh’s character is, and without it, he would not appear as this immovable force to be reckoned with. 

Roohi is the epitome of the “modern” Indian woman–focused on her career, wears Western clothing, and is not married–everything a “traditional” Indian woman is not. Going from the city to the village, there is an immediate distrust between her and the women at the ashram, adding to her challenges in her investigation. 

Additionally, the added pressure of her father holding a powerful position within the law enforcement and being undermined by her male coworkers makes it all the more important to her that she succeeds. Qureshi is powerfully able to juggle the weight, translating to an incredibly genuine performance.

However, Swati Das stands out in her role as the caretaker of the ashram. Throughout the runtime of the movie, we watch her unwillingness to compromise on her beliefs slowly crack her stone-cold exterior. With the subtleties in Das’ movements, intonations, and expressions leaving us with glimpses of her true intentions, she grips us into wanting to understand her character more. There is an ambiguity to her morals in her portrayal, leaving the audience wondering who she is really protecting.

While Mishra’s hard-hitting yet respectful storytelling carried the feature, the direction fell flat. There are a handful of moments of ambitious cinematography that struggle to match the tone, with overhead shots that felt forced in. Otherwise, the film felt safe in the confines of what we have seen time and again within the crime thriller genre. 

The story represents a small piece of a larger picture of the state of crime and treatment of women in India. In 2022, the number of cases registered for domestic violence and rape has risen staggeringly since 2020, as well as the percentage difference between convicted versus acquitted persons. These are stark statistics that show no forward progression in the treatment of women. Being inspired by real events, Bayaan acts as a reminder that we lack meaningful change in sentiments towards women.

Over the last five years, India has seen a rise in films about the treatment of women. Thappad (2020), Laapataa Ladies (2023), and Santosh (2024) have meaningfully contributed to this conversation, yet those in authority are not taking fast or effective actions towards remedying the systemic issue at hand. Bayaan is yet another example of attempting to pose difficult questions to leaders and I suspect it will go unheard once again. 

As much as it is important to see these stories presented on the big screen, I am tired of seeing another film shout into the void where no one is paying attention. How many more films must we sit through before enough is enough? We are at a stage where progress is diminishing rather than growing. I admire what Mishra is trying to achieve with Bayaan, but it becomes too heartbreaking to continue sitting through. I hope to see a time when we can spotlight films centered around women from India that are not riddled with trauma.

Review Courtesy of Nandita Joshi

Feature Image Courtesy of TIFF and Platoon One Films