Arnab Banerjee reviews Maa Behen, Suresh Triveni's dark comedy starring Madhuri Dixit, Triptii Dimri, and Ravi Kishan, examining its promising premise, uneven execution, sharp performances, and missed opportunities for wickedly subversive humour.

Director: Suresh Triveni

Cast: Madhuri Dixit, Triptii Dimri, Dharna Durga, Paresh Rawal, Ravi Kishan, Geetanjali Kulkarni, Arunoday Singh, Shardul Bhardwaj, Jatin Sarna

Cinematography: Anuj Rakesh Dhawan

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

Every actor of consequence harbours a desire to inhabit roles that foreground performance—particularly those that test their flair for comedy, that most elusive of arts requiring instinct, rhythm, and razor-sharp timing. While legends such as Amitabh Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan, alongside actors of formidable gravitas like Dilip Kumar and Irrfan Khan, have traversed the delicate line between the tragic and the comic with enviable ease, many have faltered in a genre that demands spontaneity and wit in equal measure.

It is with such expectations that one approaches Maa Behen, a Netflix offering headlined by Madhuri Dixit. Directed by Suresh Triveni—who made a promising debut with the gently humorous Tumhari Sulu before veering into more sombre territory—the film attempts to mine a vein of humour that Hindi cinema seldom exploits with conviction: black comedy.

A Family in Chaos and Conspiracy

Backed by Abundantia Entertainment and Opening Image Films, and featuring a capable ensemble including Triptii Dimri, Dharna Durga, and Ravi Kishan, the film begins with a title that is itself provocative—colloquial, abrasive, and steeped in the vernacular insult culture of North India.

At its core lies the story of Rekha (Dixit) and her daughters, Jaya (Dimri) and Sushma (Durga)—a family unit frayed by estrangement and emotional discord.

Rekha, living alone in Adarsh Colony and employed at a liquor shop, is a figure of unapologetic flamboyance. Draped in sleeveless blouses and buoyed by her entrepreneurial amorality, she is both the subject and source of neighbourhood gossip. Her moral foil arrives in the form of Charitra Gupta (Ravi Kishan), the sanctimonious neighbour whose disapproval is as loud as it is futile—until he turns up dead in Rekha’s kitchen.

Panic-stricken, Rekha summons her daughters. Jaya, shackled in a joyless marriage defined by quiet servitude, and Sushma, an aspiring social media influencer chasing fleeting digital fame, are drawn into a farcical yet macabre conspiracy: to conceal the corpse before the ever-watchful eyes of their intrusive mohalla descend upon them.

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https://youtu.be/hY2id8R2aFI?si=2rMNBNuJuQn34xUE

The setting—a claustrophobic neighbourhood where privacy is an alien concept—is familiar terrain. Yet the film acquires a certain kinetic energy when Rekha re-enters the colony with a newly acquired husband in tow, igniting suspicion and curiosity in equal measure. Parallel threads—an impending wedding in the deceased man’s household, whispers of rekindled romance, and a young girl’s obsession with online validation—add layers to an already crowded narrative.

A recurring meta-device comes in the form of a sensationalist crime show, Khalbali, whose anchor gleefully dissects Rekha’s life, branding her a modern-day Bluebeard and an affront to both motherhood and womanhood. These imagined, exaggerated vignettes are among the film’s more consistently amusing flourishes, even as the overall tonal balance remains uneven.

Madhuri Dixit Leads a Strong Ensemble

Madhuri Dixit, liberated from the ornamental expectations that have long defined her screen presence, delivers a performance marked by poise and comic precision. Stripped of choreographed embellishments, she inhabits Rekha with relish, her elegance lending irony to the character’s moral ambiguity. Triptii Dimri and Dharna Durga lend able support, while Geetanjali Kulkarni, as the ever-watchful neighbour, is reliably compelling.

And yet, despite its promising premise and capable cast, Maa Behen never quite realises its potential. Echoing shades of Darlings (2022), it gestures towards a subversive exploration of female rage and resilience but stops short of true audacity. The writing, at times overly clever for its own good, stretches scenes without deepening them, and the narrative settles into predictability where it should have embraced risk.

At 127 minutes, the film could have benefited from tighter plotting and a more daring denouement. Though deftly edited by Dipika Kalra and developed by Pooja Tolani alongside Triveni, the screenplay lacks the sharpness and bite that its premise demands. What remains is a film that entertains in spurts, buoyed by performance and atmosphere, yet leaves one wishing it had been bolder, darker, and far more wickedly funny.

Still, for its moments of mischief and Madhuri Dixit’s spirited turn, it is worth a dekko.