why is the film called Monkey? Is it because its protagonist is ultimately forced to perform like a monkey in a system that strips him of every shred of his dignity? Or is it because, as he says, ‘we are all monkeys in our own circus’? Whatever the answer, Anurag Kashyap’s latest film leaves you uneasy… not because of its subject matter, but because of the way it tells this story.

The film opens with one of the most heartbreaking moments. Once-famous actor-singer Samar Mehra (Bobby Deol) is performing at a wedding. Seeing three young women holding phones, he casually poses for a photograph. Except they’re not clicking on it; They are taking selfies. In one short scene, Kashyap reflects on the tragedy of fading relevance. The man who once led the crowd is now invisible in plain sight.

Samar’s life away from the limelight is equally disappointing. He lives alone, walks around in Superman boxers, suffers from back pain and worries about money. Just loneliness, insecurity and a growing need to feel wanted. His much younger girlfriend offers companionship, but also exposes his weaknesses.

Just then there is a knock at the door.

Samar is taken to the police station and told that a woman has accused him of rape. He insists that he is innocent, and claims that what started as a consensual affair turned into obsession when she stopped responding to his messages and eventually blocked him.

The legal case becomes the backbone of the film, but Monkey He is less interested in guilt or innocence than in the machinery that swallows people up once they enter the system. The sequences at the police station leave you shocked. Samar is humiliated, abused and made fun of. Their private chats are read out loud, and their dignity is publicly destroyed.

but it’s inside the prison Monkey Finds its strongest base. The new prisoners are stripped naked, forced into humiliating positions and treated less like humans and more like ‘monkeys’. Prison feels like a cage – overcrowded, dirty and stifling. It becomes a nightmare designed to crush identities and hopes.

The jail is full of people who claim to be innocent. A prisoner accused of rape casually blames the victim’s clothing, revealing the possessiveness and misogyny that is often hidden beneath normal facades. And even hardened criminals look down on rapists. An inmate remembers how the accused in the Delhi case were mistreated inside the jail, underscoring the seriousness of the crime even within the criminal world.

Bobby Deol delivers one of his strongest performances. And because we know parts of his own journey, watching him play a fallen star feels painfully authentic. He captures Samar’s frustration, confusion and helplessness. Even when the character is unpredictable, Deol humanizes him.

Jitendra Joshi as the investigating officer, Sanya Malhotra as Samar’s sister and Saba Azad as his love interest have made the most of whatever has been written for them.

Sapna Pabbi, on the other hand, is doing wonders as a woman named Gayatri, whose accusation changes Samar’s life. She brings anger, insecurity and unpredictability to the role. That’s why it feels disappointing that the film never fully explores her point of view. We hear bits and pieces about her troubled past and emotional wounds, but they’re never developed enough to understand her psychology. and here it is Monkey Starts staggering.

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The film wants to talk about false allegations, public shaming and the brutality of the justice system. But somewhere along the way, it starts stacking the emotional deck in Summer’s favor. the more time Monkey As much as it spends documenting her humiliation and suffering, it also inspires the audience to sympathize with her as the primary victim.

This approach feels limited because the film’s most interesting questions lie elsewhere: the emotional fallout of rejection, power dynamics, accountability, and public perception. All of them have been touched upon, yet rarely examined with the same depth as Summer’s ordeal.

A particularly suspicious moment comes when Samar writes a letter expressing regret, admitting that his actions may have emotionally harmed Gayatri. Yet the film continues to present him as the primary victim. The emotional consequences of being used, abandoned, and haunted are acknowledged, but never really explored.

And in doing so, Monkey One man’s story of suffering risks undermining larger conversations about gender and accountability. Yes, the threat of false accusation is real, but so is the tendency to use individual cases to cast doubt on the larger conversation around crimes against women.

This is also surprising because Anurag Kashyap generally thrives in the moral gray zone. However, here, a story that starts out in gray gradually narrows into a much more one-sided perspective.

The first half is entertaining and consistently engaging. Unfortunately, the second half circles back to the same ideas and loses momentum. The prison remains fascinating, but the story starts to feel stuck in it. The film seems to believe that irritating the audience is tantamount to asking them questions.

As yet Monkey At long last… In a haunting monologue, Samar talks about forgetting her face and becoming a ghost inside the prison. This is the image you see projected from the theater: a person slowly disappearing inside a system that has already decided who he or she is. It’s a powerful image from a film that ultimately provides easier answers than it does to its questions.