Karan Kandhari’s Sister Midnight seems, upon its opening, to be a quotidian domestic drama. Uma (Radhika Apte) has one key problem taking over her life: she and her new husband, Gobal (Ashok Parthak), are not at all compatible. Those who arranged their marriage failed to account for fundamental differences in temperament and, while neither is horrible to the other, existence within the same spaces soon becomes stifling for Uma in particular. Soon, her malaise and Gopbal’s inability to satisfy it become too much to handle, leading her to develop some inexplicable and unnatural appetites – and opening the door to a no-holds-barred horror comedy with an unending stream of tonal twists.
Sister Midnight delivers tragicomedy through a maze of surreality, where the terrors begin with the mundane and progress rapidly through the wacky and supernatural. To spoil more in a review would do a great discursive to the ride ahead of viewers, but writer-director Kandhari and Apte create a wonderfully deadpan final girl of sorts in Uma. Here, the myth of the domestic goddess and angel of the hearth (nowadays the “trad wife”) is entirely upended, and the home is a source of discord rather than peace and tranquility. Apte’s petite frame holds a myriad of frustrations, all conveyed with widened eyes and increasingly exasperated sighs as her voice holds (mostly) steady – skillfully juxtaposing and isolating her physicality and vocality. She states her wants and needs directly, whether they be realistic everyday adjustments or fantasies of men-free lives (shared with daring vulgarity and simmering rage between her girlfriends). While alarmed by the nights she cannot quite remember and the changes in her body and routine, there is no collapse into fear or denial, rather an acceptance and adjustment that alternates between puzzled and practical. While the whole journey of Sister Midnight is worth the ride, rough edges and all, Apte’s performance is a major reason to seek out this film.
As Gopal, Parthak gets across the petty personality traits that drive Uma mad without losing the audience; this is no tale of an abusive husband and abused wife but a (generally nice) man set in his ways and a (generally nice, but very different) woman losing her mind trying to wrest any change she can from him. Gopal is as inoffensively bland as Uma is vivacious and unsatisfied, and he grows more sympathetic when he realises he must adjust to fit his wife’s increasingly strange ways.
As mentioned, Sister Midnight is not without its rough edges – the film makes choices so big and jumps between plot points and thematic structures that only barely remain connected. If it were not for the trust established by its endearing, relatable premise and first few (more subdued) leaps into fancy, the film would threaten to lose its audience. The result of these twists hit diminishing returns, especially in the film’s final third (a twist directly before this point proving a heart-stirring emotional climax), but mileage may vary based on the viewers’ genre comfort and expectations.
Kandhari’s main experience before this feature debut has been in music videos and short films, and he has a keen eye and an abundance of flair for the way visuals affect the story. Alongside film editor Napoleon Stratogiannakis and director of photography Sverre Sørdal, he plays with speed, frame rate, perspective, and stillness to undercut any sense of naturalism even in the film’s domestic portions. The result not only heightens the unease and uncanny but revels in the ridiculousness of finding a life turned uncontrollably upside down, making Sister Midnight as much a slapstick comedy as it is a horror. Deliberately anti-realistic animation even finds its way into the film, making the unreal (and undead) distinct from the expected, accepted mortal realm. In one standout sequence, Uma and Gorpal have to pretend their lives are normal when nothing has been further from the truth, and the sped-up camera zooming in on the door to the outside – and letting the outside in – elicits both laughter and dread.
The design elsewhere boosts Sister Midnight’s best qualities and smooths over its cracks, most notably in the music (perhaps unsurprisingly, based on Kandhari’s professional background). The film’s punk credentials are enhanced by a superb soundtrack that melds glam rock with American country music and everything in between. Each and every needle drop offers a surprise (there are no obvious or expected cues here), and each and every one enhances the ensuing scene through this interplay of the real and imaginary, the ordinary and the extraordinary. In the end, Sister Midnight shatters – or perhaps blends – both into something unforgettable.
Having made its debut in the Director’s Fortnight of the 2024 Cannes Film Festival before playing Dublin and London film festivals, Sister Midnight’s wide release gives another excellent woman-led horror the audience it deserves. Perhaps it does not quite gel in all its disparate sections and tones; nonetheless, its verve and guts more than make up for any imperfections. The film is a riotously good time and marks Kandhari as a remarkably confident and inventive director upon his move to features. His next projects in any space, but especially in cinema, are eagerly awaited.
Sister Midnight is currently in UK theaters. It will release in the US on May 16, 2025.
Learn more about the film at the official website.
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