Aamir Khan’s Talaash and Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s Raat Akeli Hai are classic murder mysteries that reimagine the femme fatale
On the surface, Talaash and Raat Akeli Hai seem completely different, but if one is willing to look deeper, they share much more, particularly a core sentiment that elevates them beyond just murder mysteries
What defines a classic murder mystery? Is it the kind that refuses to be outsmarted? One that keeps disarming you, twist by twist, until its final breath? One that seduces you into certainty, only to undo it precisely when you’re most convinced? The answers, I suppose, are varied, deeply personal, even. But if I were to distil them all, I’d say it comes down to one thing: perception. The essence of a great whodunit lies not in its resolution, but in how it manipulates what you think you know. It crafts a perception so carefully, so convincingly, that when it shifts, is when the story earns its place among the classics. For me, the mystery isn’t solely linked to the text, to the “who” and “why” of the crime. In fact, the best ones let me forget there was a crime at all. The true gold standard lies in a narrative that transcends the scaffolding of genre, that rises above the bait of shock and delivers something more resonant. The murder, then becomes incidental, a catalyst for a deeper exploration. A larger story. A subtler thrill. In Hindi cinema, the last time I felt this emotional undercurrent disguised as crime — I found myself returning to Reema Kagti’s Talaash, and Honey Trehan’s Raat Akeli Hai.
On paper, both couldn’t be more different in every which way. One is set in the maximum city of Mumbai, the other happens in the hinterlands of Uttar Pradesh. One is about the death of a film star, the other is about the death of the old patriarch of a family. One follows a cop clinging to the fraying threads of a broken marriage; the other about a cop eager to begin one. One slips into the supernatural by the time it ends, the other insists that the natural horrors of society are terrifying enough. One is led by what we call the superstars of a generation, Aamir Khan, Rani Mukerji, and Kareena Kapoor. The other is steered by actors of the generation, Nawazuddin Siddiqui and Radhika Apte. Even in direction, one is helmed by the clinical Kagti, the other is led by the debuting Trehan. But still, whenever I watch one of them, I think of the other. Whenever I mention one, I have to mention the other. It is because, somewhere subconsciously, both are mirroring each other. It is because in both, the crime is never the real horror. It is the world around it which is inherently sexist.
In that sense, one of the most striking similarities between the two lies in how both unfold as mood pieces, deeply linked with the image of the femme fatale. In each, the actresses embodying this archetype, Kapoor in Talaash and Apte in Raat Akeli Hai, continuously play with, and challenge, our traditional perceptions of what a femme fatale is. At first, they appear as mysterious, beautiful, seductive figures who captivate the investigating officers, Khan in Talaash, Siddiqui in Raat Akeli Hai. But what Kagti and Smita Singh (who wrote Raat Akeli Hai) do is give them the background, complexity and agency the genre has historically denied. They empower these women to move beyond the image, to step out of the frame that usually holds them. And in doing so, they become the driving force of both narratives.
What’s remarkable is how Talaash gradually shifts into the story of Rosie. By the end, we realise it was hers all along. Like Suri, she too is searching for closure. But unlike him, her grief has never been centred. Her presence, though constant, was never prioritised. We never considered her the narrative’s subject because we were never conditioned to view her that way. And when the film circles back to her, we’re left re-evaluating not only what we saw, but how we saw it. The same holds for Raat Akeli Hai. We, like Jatil, observe Radha through a lens of suspicion. For most of the film, we are complicit in the assumption that she is hiding something, perhaps even the truth about the murder. But that gaze fractures when her real story emerges, and we come to understand that it was never hidden, it was simply never acknowledged. Her truth remained invisible, not by omission, but by design. Because neither the characters nor the audience was willing to see it.
This is where these murder mysteries transcend their genre. They do not simply subvert expectations. But they indict the very mechanisms of perception that shape the genre. By foregrounding caste, class, and gender, and how they operate as forces of erasure, Kagti and Singh expose the genre’s historical myopia. They remind us that what is missing from view is often not what is absent, but what has been systematically overlooked. The other significant leap that both films take in their subversion of the femme fatale is how, in each case, the woman becomes the route through which the man arrives at a deeper understanding of himself. It is through them that their male counterparts come of age. It is through them they begin to see, not just the case more clearly, but also the world around them. In that sense, the resolution is not only about solving the murder, but about uncovering parts of themselves they might never have confronted otherwise. Perhaps that’s why even the titles of both films symbolise the journeys their characters undertake. An endless search for a sense of peace, for a fragment of themselves, in a night that offers neither comfort nor escape.
Anas Arif is a prolific Entertainment Journalist and Cinematic Analyst at The Indian Express, where he specializes in the intersection of Indian pop culture, auteur-driven cinema, and industrial ethics. His writing is defined by a deep-seated commitment to documenting the evolving landscape of Indian entertainment through the lens of critical theory and narrative authorship.
Experience & Career
As a core member of The Indian Express entertainment vertical, Anas has cultivated a unique beat that prioritizes the "craft behind the celebrity." He has interviewed a vast spectrum of industry veterans, from blockbuster directors like Vijay Krishna Acharya, Sujoy Ghosh, Maneesh Sharma to experimental filmmakers and screenwriters like Anurag Kashyap, Vikramaditya Motwane, Varun Grover, Rajat Kapoor amongst several others. His career is characterized by a "Journalism of Courage" approach, where he frequently tackles the ethical implications of mainstream cinema and the socio-political subtext within popular media. He is also the host of the YouTube series Cult Comebacks, where he talks to filmmakers about movies that may not have succeeded initially but have, over time, gained a cult following. The show aims to explore films as works of art, rather than merely commercial ventures designed to earn box office revenue.
Expertise & Focus Areas
Anas's expertise lies in his ability to deconstruct cinematic works beyond surface-level reviews. His focus areas include:
Auteur Studies: Detailed retrospectives and analyses of filmmakers such as Imtiaz Ali, Anurag Kashyap, and Neeraj Ghaywan, often exploring their central philosophies and creative evolutions.
Cinematic Deconstruction: Examining technical and narrative choices, such as the use of aspect ratios in independent films (Sabar Bonda) or the structural rhythm of iconic soundtracks (Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge).
Industrial & Social Ethics: Fearless critique of commercial blockbusters, particularly regarding the promotion of bigoted visions or the marginalization of communities in mainstream scripts.
Exclusive Long-form Interviews: Conducting high-level dialogues with actors and creators to uncover archival anecdotes and future-looking industry insights.
Authoritativeness & Trust
Anas Arif has established himself as a trusted voice by consistently moving away from standard PR-driven journalism. Whether he is interrogating the "mythology of Shah Rukh Khan" in modern sequels or providing a space for independent filmmakers to discuss the "arithmetic of karma," his work is rooted in objectivity and extensive research. Readers look to Anas for an educated viewpoint that treats entertainment not just as a commodity, but as a critical reflection of the country's collective conscience. ... Read More
