Accused, directed by Anubhuti Kashyap, and written by Sima Agarwal and Yash Keswani, is not interested in the easy pleasures of revelation. It does not rush towards verdicts or engineer convenient catharsis. Instead, it simmers, quietly, persistently, examining what happens when an allegation alone is enough to upend a life meticulously built over years. Set in London, the film unfolds less as a suspense thriller and more as a psychological chamber piece about power, perception and the fragility of reputation.
At its centre is Dr Geetika Sen, played with unnerving precision by Konkona Sen Sharma. A celebrated gynaecologist, Geetika is defined by discipline and control. She does not tolerate error in the operating theatre; excellence is her minimum standard. At home, she shares what appears to be a stable, affectionate marriage with Dr Meera, a paediatrician played by Pratibha Rannta. Their relationship is marked by candour and shared ambition, including Meera’s longing to adopt and experience motherhood. Together, they represent competence, modernity and emotional partnership.
The equilibrium fractures when anonymous allegations of sexual misconduct surface against Geetika at her workplace. What begins as a whisper grows into formal complaints and institutional scrutiny. Colleagues who once admired her now keep a studied distance. Hospital authorities launch inquiries. Corridors fall silent when she passes. Kashyap resists the temptation to convert the narrative into a procedural; instead, she focuses on the emotional aftershocks. The film’s tension lies not in discovering “who did what”, but in watching how swiftly trust erodes and how identity can be rewritten by suspicion.
Konkona Sen Sharma crafts Geetika as a study in contradictions. She is authoritative to the point of severity, a self-confessed perfectionist who brooks no dissent. The script hints at her complicated romantic history, she is drawn to younger women, carries unresolved emotions for an ex, and exhibits a possessiveness that makes her both magnetic and unsettling. Konkona shapes these traits like a master weaver, allowing us to both admire and recoil. In quieter scenes, when the façade slips and fear seeps through, she reveals the human cost of control. It is a performance of remarkable layering.
Pratibha Rannta, meanwhile, stands shoulder to shoulder with her formidable co-star. Meera could easily have been reduced to “the supportive spouse”, but Rannta imbues her with aching vulnerability and quiet steel. Meera yearns for familial acceptance and dreams of adoption, a desire that underscores her nurturing instincts. As doubt creeps in, her pain is palpable, visible in hesitant glances and conversations that end in heavy silences. She wants normalcy restored, wants her marriage intact, and yet cannot silence the whisper of “what if”. Rannta captures that moral tug-of-war with admirable restraint.
Kashyap’s most striking choice is the gender reversal at the heart of the narrative. In an industry, and indeed a society, accustomed to stories of powerful men accused of misconduct, here the accused is a woman. And not just any woman but one in a same-sex marriage, which adds another layer of social scrutiny and complexity. The film does not sensationalise this; rather, it observes how bias operates in subtler ways. Allegation becomes spectacle. Private lives become public property. The story interrogates how power, gender and sexuality intersect in shaping belief.
The supporting cast enriches the moral landscape. Sukant Goel plays a private investigator navigating murky testimonies with measured detachment. Aditya Nanda portrays a colleague harbouring feelings for Meera, his presence introducing both emotional complication and opportunism. Mashhoor Amrohi channels a quiet intensity reminiscent of Irrfan Khan as the investigator examining the accusations; his performance is marked by watchful silences and probing eyes. Monika Mahendru lends dignity to the considerate HR head trying to balance empathy with protocol, while Kallirroi Tziafeta brings texture to the role of Geetika’s indophile former lover, a reminder of unresolved pasts bleeding into the present.
The film unfolds at its own deliberate pace, punctuated by twists that never feel manipulative. The question of who might be orchestrating Geetika’s downfall lingers but Kashyap makes it clear that this is not the central concern. The real drama lies in the unravelling of intimacy. Scenes between Geetika and Meera, once warm and teasing, turn brittle. Everyday rituals acquire a chill. The camera often lingers a fraction longer than comfortable, allowing the audience to sit with ambiguity.
Technically assured and emotionally probing, Accused ultimately asks whether truth is ever enough to restore what suspicion destroys. By the time the credits roll, the film leaves us suspended in uncertainty. It does not hand us moral clarity; it hands us questions. In doing so, it becomes less about guilt or innocence and more about the terrifying speed with which a life, and a love, can begin to crumble under the weight of accusation alone.
Also Read: Accused: When and Where to Watch Konkona Sen Sharma and Pratibha Rannta’s Film?
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