We
have
all
at
some
point
encountered
the
kind
of
duplicitous
men
who
would
shamelessly
beat
their
wives,
catcall
every
possible
female,
exert
their
dominance,
and
yet
call
themselves
feminists
who
“respect
women.”
They
won’t
even
deny
their
preposterous
acts
and
would
either
blame
the
victim
for
triggering
them
or
make
fun
of
their
hopelessness.
These
men,
whose
actions
are
often
overcompensating
for
their
own
inadequacies
and
dysfunctions,
can
unfortunately
be
found
in
every
stratum
of
society.
Netflix’s
latest
original
film
Do
Patti,
brings
to
us
one
such
man
in
Dhruv
Sood
(Shaheer
Sheikh)
from
a
small
hill
town,
who
regularly
beats
his
traumatised
wife
Saumya
(Kriti
Sanon).
The
film
begins
with
a
paraglide
gone
wrong,
as
the
couple
hang
in
the
air
for
their
lives
from
their
glider.
Saumya,
who
thinks
her
husband
has
sabotaged
her
harness,
begs
for
her
life.
Upon
being
rescued,
Saumya
tells
inspector
Vidya
Jyothi
(Kajol)
that
her
husband
tried
to
murder
her,
and
we
are
taken
to
a
flashback
sequence
of
three
months
ago,
when
the
two
first
met.
Saumya
is
introduced
as
an
anxious
introvert,
who
has
been
in
severe
depression
since
her
parents
died.
Now
living
with
an
alcoholic
caretaker,
she
is
quietly
suffering
from
several
phobias
and
traumas.
She
also
has
a
tumultuous
relationship
with
her
twin
sister
Shailee,
who
was
sent
off
to
a
hostel
because
of
her
abusive
behaviour
towards
Saumya,
only
to
return
in
time
to
interfere
with
her
love
life.
A
major
flaw
that
holds
Do
Patti
back
is
the
incoherent
plot
and
its
fluctuating
tone.
Some
of
the
scenes
are
intense
and
leave
a
lasting
impact;
others
are
merely
fillers
that
don’t
add
anything
meaningful
to
the
story.
A
thriller
is
supposed
to
constantly
keep
viewers
on
their
toes
and
carefully
set
up
the
pieces
before
pulling
the
rug.
Do
Patti,
however,
isn’t
able
to
maintain
that
iron
grip
on
its
plot.
The
film,
for
instance,
wastes
a
lot
of
time
in
establishing
Kajol’s
character.
She
plays
an
idealist
cop
who
talks
in
Bollywood’s
stereotypical
idea
of
what
a
hinterland
accent
is
supposed
to
be
—
it’s
neither
Hindi
nor
Haryanvi
or
Bhojpuri.
Can
we
please
stop
with
the
lazy
sub-altern
caricature
already?
At
one
point,
it
begins
to
feel
that
the
writers
were
so
starstruck
by
Kajol
that
they
forgot
to
add
any
meat
to
her
role
and
hoped
she’d
carry
the
character
with
her
natural
charisma.
Kajol’s
Vidya
Jyothi,
who
goes
by
“VJ”,
is
goofy,
close
to
her
popular
roles
in
romantic
comedies,
instead
being
a
serious
cop.
While
Kajol
has
tried
her
best
to
deliver
with
whatever
little
she
was
given,
the
blame
lies
with
the
writers
for
underutilising
a
refined
actor
like
her.
If
you
aren’t
her
fan,
her
story
arc
will
feel
stretched
thing
on
several
occasions.
Another
area
where
the
film
falters
is
its
stereotypical
and
regressive
representation
of
its
female
characters.
Sanon’s
twin
sister
is
shown
as
a
loose
woman,
who
drinks,
has
short
hair,
wears
seductive
outfits,
goes
clubbing
and
flirts
with
men.
Why
are
we
still
sticking
to
these
idiotic
tropes
in
2024
and
feeding
the
patriarchal
beast.
Shailee
is
painted
with
a
singular
brush,
and
there
are
no
other
shades
to
her
character.
She
is
supposed
to
be
villainous
and
scheming,
so
of
course
she’s
not
in
line
with
what
our
“culture”
deems
righteous.
Or
is
it
so
that
she’s
automatically
labelled
evil
just
because
she
drinks
or
likes
to
dress
up?
While
Saumya’s
extremely
introverted
behaviour
can
be
attributed
to
her
trauma,
the
film
could
have
—
and
in
fact,
should
have
—
avoided
Shailee’s
version
from
the
witchcraft
era.
Despite
its
flaws,
the
film
does
a
fine
job
in
its
representation
of
patriarchy,
violence
against
women,
childhood
trauma
and
its
deep-seated
impact.
In
a
disturbing
scene
from
the
film,
we
see
Dhruv
brutally
beating
Saumya.
He
pulls
her
hair,
kicks
her
in
the
guts
mercilessly,
rolls
her
like
a
football,
throws
her
over
the
stairs
and
leaves
her
blood-soaked
on
the
floor.
In
the
end,
he
candidly
throws
away
the
typical
“why
did
you
trigger
my
anger”
statement.
The
entire
sequence
is
well-performed
and
boils
your
blood
to
the
extent
where
you’d
feel
like
entering
the
screen
and
punching
Sheikh’s
character.
While
it’s
disturbing
and
can
be
triggering
for
victims
of
abuse,
it
is
also
one
of
the
most
powerful
scenes
in
the
film.
It
not
only
shows
the
brutality
of
domestic
violence
against
women
but
also
the
sick
and
twisted
psyches
of
monsters
who
perpetrate
abuse.
The
film
also
boasts
some
amazing
performances,
especially
by
Sanon
and
Sheikh.
Sanon
has
done
a
brilliant
job
at
playing
dual
roles
and
is
equally
convincing
in
both
of
them.
Her
characters
have
been
carefully
written,
infused
with
the
smallest
aspects
of
the
human
behaviour
in
consideration.
There
is
a
scene
where
Saumya
is
pushed
into
paragliding
for
the
first
time,
despite
having
severe
acrophobia,
and
midway
through
the
activity,
she
gets
teary-eyed
thinking
of
her
dead
mother.
It
is
such
a
moving
representation
of
how
the
grief
one
might
be
carrying
can
subconsciously
erupt
with
even
the
slightest
push,
reminding
us
that
it
was
waiting
beneath
the
surface
all
this
while.
While
the
National
award-winning
actor
has
given
a
few
impressive
performances
earlier
as
well,
especially
in
Mimi,
she
has
outdone
herself
in
this
Netflix
original.
The
way
Do
Patti
handles
and
portrays
the
themes
of
childhood
trauma,
sibling
rivalries,
domestic
violence,
abuse,
and
the
objectification
of
women
is
quite
impressive.
It
intimately
explores
even
the
smallest
details
of
these
difficult
themes,
complemented
by
brilliant
performances.
However,
brilliance
comes
in
patches.
If
only
the
film
had
better
pacing
or
constant
momentum
throughout
its
runtime
—
and
avoided
harmful
stereotypes
—
it
would
have
done
justice
to
the
important
issues
it
attempts
to
explore.
Films
dealing
with
such
sensitive
themes
need
to
be
more
captivating
to
appeal
to
a
larger
audience.
Do
Patti
handles
its
subject
matter
in
impressive
ways
—
it
has
its
intentions
in
the
right
place.
But
it
struggles
to
establish
itself
as
a
good
thriller.
Rating:
6.5/10
