Saali Mohabbat Review | An Immersive Thriller That Revives The Familiar Taste Of ‘Chutney’

It’s hardly a mystery: put Radhika Apte in a woman-centric thriller and audiences will inevitably lap it up (as they should). Her command over the genre borders on effortless, and Tisca Chopra’s Saali Mohabbat (2025) gives her another space to prove it. Though you wish Apte would stretch beyond her familiar register, she slips into default mode here—but Chopra’s assured direction keeps her compelling.

It’s delightful how the predictability of certain films in the thriller genre becomes a pleasurable and acceptable part of the experience. Sure, from the first impression of the trailer, to now watching the film—Chopra has deliberately carried the essence of her short film Chutney (2016) (which she also co-wrote) throughout. Small town party chatter, hush-hush affairs and the dark secrets they bury, are all part of the immersive world she has built. Although there’s a lived-in authenticity to the writing that makes it a gripping tale of betrayal, lies and deception.

At the epicentre of this world is Smita/Kavita, a timid housewife and a Botany major played by Apte, with her shy demeanor, neat salwar suits and tied hair. She is married to Pankaj (Ayushmaan Pushkar), the negligent husband who has a gambling addiction. Their marriage is strained by a plot of land that Smita refuses to sell. Their lives take an interesting turn when Smita’s cousin Shalini (Sauraseni Maitra) enters the picture and moves into their home for her job nearby.

They’re eventually found dead together and the film attempts to unfold as a who-dunnit but misses the buildup and suspense required for it to be one. The investigation is led by Ratan (Divyenndu Sharma), as the audience is being narrated and almost filled in, as to who actually killed them. The very straightforward storytelling isn’t a problem if one simply immerses in its worldbuilding, but for some, it might be an obstruction. 

As a Ghaziabadi woman known for her “storytelling skills”, Vanita from Chutney is reflected in Kavita/Smita here, as she too, is narrating a story to her posh friends at a lunch party. Seemingly working with two different timelines, the film quite well portrays the temporal, social and emotional cues of both worlds without overcomplicating it. The plotline takes another interesting input from Chutney, bringing in the “soil” and nature as elements of renewal and justice.

Smita’s inclinations towards nature allow her to feel a semblance of connection in her lonely life. The film reveals the quiet weight of her domestic life centred around gardening, cooking, cleaning—in a way that feels lived-in. Sharat Saxena is a sly stroke of casting—an unassuming gardener with a protective hand. The film also makes a fair commentary on survival and womanhood, allowing Apte to become a vessel for female rage. As Shalini and Pankaj’s involvement becomes more apparent, the dynamic between the three grows increasingly taut—and undeniably compelling.

The genre’s recurring flaw, however, is its tendency to trigger familiar stereotypes: the “modern” woman cast as the convenient antagonist, and the unsuspecting wife framed as the default victim. It’s a tired binary the story knowingly brushes up against, but also subverts—Smita is smarter than we assume her to be, just like Vanita (Chopra) in Chutney. The portrait of innocence tarnished by betrayal is Apte’s achievement in this film as a seemingly clueless housewife to an absolute force is delightful. There’s no forced femme-fatale turn either. The guilt shows, the grief lingers, and Smita/Kavita stays human even as the film slips into a slightly formulaic cat-and-mouse chase.

One can admire a director’s fixation on a particular theme, character, or oddly specific story. But the core issue here is the film’s attempt to function as a spiritual successor to the short—it borrows the idea without earning the structure, leaving the atmosphere underserved. That said, it’s shot with deliberate compositions, a sense of gravitas, and a quietly immersive visual texture that does much of the heavy lifting.

Saali Mohabbat walks boldly into the feminist-crime thriller space, with a quiet fury, even if its ideas don’t always cut as deep as its intentions. The 104-minute runtime moves briskly and the final reveal announces itself long before the script does. With the narrative clearly engineered for a sequel, Tisca Chopra resists tying anything neatly, choosing instead to leave the audience tugging at unresolved threads.

Even so, as someone drawn to thrillers—and the Radhika-style universe of disturbed domesticity they often inhabit—the film remains absorbing. A surprise appearance by Anurag Kashyap adds a mischievous jolt. And while Chopra’s debut hits and misses some punches, it carries an emotional undercurrent that lingers. It’s a solid first strike, pulsing with something darker and more daring that will, hopefully, be fully unleashed in what comes next.