Tapassi Movie Review: A stark descent into pain, bogged down by its objectifying gaze
Tapassi(2.5 / 5)
Something is unsettling about Tapassi, and it’s not just the dark themes. Directed by Spencer Mathew, this intense, female-centric drama attempts to peel back the layers of glamour in the modelling industry, exposing the disturbing truths that lie beneath. The film follows a young girl with aspirations of becoming a model and actor. And while it succeeds in revealing the grime beneath the glitter, it falters in making us truly connect with its titular character.
The story begins with Tapassi (Ammayra Goswami) confessing her past to Professor Ravish Vaidyanathan (Ravichandran), writing and narrating her life in retrospect. She enters the modelling world with dreams as grand as her determination, but her journey quickly spirals into a brutal descent. Alcohol, drugs, transactional sex, and emotional numbness take over. The film never glamorises her life; if anything, it strips it of allure. Yet, in doing so, it risks objectifying her pain rather than humanising it.
This is where Tapassi stumbles most. Though it centres on a woman losing her agency, it often reduces her to an object, viewed primarily through the lens of men who use, manipulate, or later regret hurting her. She drinks, smokes, and sleeps with men, sometimes by choice, often not; however, the film rarely pauses to explore her inner life. Why does she keep falling into the same traps? What drives her, beyond the desire for fame? These questions are repeatedly raised but never thoroughly explored.
Director: Spencer Matthew
Cast: Ammayra Goswami, V Ravichandran, Anusha Kini, and Sachin Wairal
From the outset, Tapassi is caught between external pressure and inner confusion. Her entanglement with a conflicted pimp sets the tone—he’s both her abuser and someone who shows a warped sense of guilt and possessiveness. The other male characters follow a similar pattern: selfish, opportunistic, and representative of a toxic, exploitative environment. Ironically, despite its focus on female disempowerment, Tapassi gives its protagonist little agency or voice. She repeats the same cycles of pain, walking into fire after fire, but the film keeps us at a distance. There’s repetition without reflection or resolution.
When Tapassi eventually seeks help through two friends she meets during a film shoot, they take her to Professor Ravish. At this point, we expect an emotional shift, a turning point. However, these scenes feel rushed, as if the film is more interested in checking narrative boxes than offering real catharsis. The film continues to struggle with balancing its raw realism with emotional depth.
What’s particularly frustrating is that Tapassi claims to tell her story, but gives her little narrative control. Her trauma is shown through raw, disturbing scenes, like waking up disoriented after a party, and a sudden, jarring gangrape scene forced in near the end. Yet, these moments are neither revisited nor given the gravity they demand, leaving them unprocessed and emotionally hollow. As a result, Tapassi comes across more as a symbol of suffering than a fully realised person. The camera lingers on her vulnerability, her breakdowns, her skin, her fragility, yet it avoids providing insight or growth.
Still, Ammayra Goswami brings quiet strength and emotional intensity to the role. Even when the script fails her, her body language, haunted eyes, and silences speak volumes. She attempts to inject soul into a character the screenplay often leaves empty. Ravichandran’s Professor Ravish brings calm sincerity, but his role feels underdeveloped, appearing more as a narrative convenience than a transformative figure. The potential for a powerful connection between them is there, but the film never fully commits.
On a technical level, the film avoids glossy visuals, opting instead for a gritty style that suits the tone. However, the execution is inconsistent. Most notably, Tapassi’s dialogue is delivered in Hindi but dubbed into Kannada in the background, creating a jarring mismatch between her voice and expressions. This disconnection breaks the emotional flow and raises questions about authenticity.
Thematically, Tapassi tries to address crucial issues, abuse, consent, exploitation, and the treatment of women in glamorous industries, but only scratches the surface. These topics are introduced but not explored. Even Tapassi’s final attempt to reclaim her life feels hurried, robbing the story of emotional resolution.
Tapassi is a film with an important message, but its disjointed storytelling, emotional detachment, and the objectification of its lead character diminish its impact. It wants to confront difficult truths, but it doesn’t give us the emotional language to understand or feel about her deeply. In the end, even the film’s closing message, delivered through Ravichandran’s character about the dangers of smoking and alcohol, falls on deaf ears.