Why does the labour of only one woman in ‘Mrs’ make us uncomfortable?

Reading comments from viewers that described this film as being “misandrist” — or a female version of Animal (2023) — made me contemplate the discomfort that those in a position of power often experience when reality is presented in a bare form. What is it that made so many people, especially men, so uncomfortable with the movie? If one watches it with an unbiased outlook (if such a thing exists), Mrs. seems to depict the everyday banality that we witness in our own households. Richa’s mother-in-law conducts herself with great ease — she’s almost robotic and unfeeling as she goes about her chores. It is a demeanour that somehow does not unsettle viewers, rendering clear the expectation of “ordinariness” where a woman is doing what she ought to and must do.

“Nobody dies because of domestic labour”: This is something I have heard from women around me, especially when they are old and ailing, and yet continue working (even when domestic help is affordable for the household). In Mrs., the mother-in-law carries through the day with a perfect poise, as if unaware of her exceptional culinary and other skills that keep the domestic space functional and in order. She lives through the normalised routine of being excluded from conversations reserved for men or the right to dine with her husband and son, as she trains her daughter-in-law to fall in line with the established order. Yet, when the newly-wed Richa undertakes similar duties one feels the weight of the dreams she washes away with the dirty dishes and the clogged sink every day. Her surprise, such as over the tasks she is expected to perform — like laying out her husband’s clothes — or over his insensitivity to her bodily needs or consent and her father-in-law’s aversion to home appliances (like food processors or washing machines) intertwines with the fact that her husband fails to acknowledge her personhood or subjectivity beyond her ability to satiate his and his family’s appetite at her own cost. He does not look at her as his “partner” or an individual with dreams.

It is this depiction that is responding differently to varied sensibilities — weighing down on some of us and intimidating some others. For people who have an awareness about the power dynamics in families and do not want to celebrate self-sacrifice, it is a poignant depiction of an everyday life in which injustice and indignity are embedded. It is not the drudgery of chores that wear down Richa: It is the lack of respect, acknowledgement and the choking of her dreams to uphold a patriarchal cultural logic that is the germ of her discontent and unhappiness. The disproportionate burden of domestic labour further aggravates the bitterness.

Could it be that those who fail to understand Richa’s sadness and eventual outburst perhaps share the belief — conveyed by her husband and father-in-law — that women do not have the right to dream and that only paid labour constitutes as worthy labour? Those who hold the reins of power often do not wish to be confronted by that same power’s bare face.

Mrs. also beautifully engages with this intersectionality where Richa is asked to stay out of the kitchen during her menstruation days — and an untouchable woman becomes touchable when there is a requirement for her labour in an intimate space (within the household). While the movie also brushes upon a changed perception among some men — like Richa’s friend’s husband or his sister’s husband, living in nuclear families and having almost normalised contributing or “helping” their wives with domestic chores or to strive for a relationship of mutual warmth and respect — one wonders about the mental and intellectual insulation of a well-educated man like Diwakar (Richa’s husband) as he continues to imbibe his father’s passive aggressive self-righteousness. Perhaps the characters like Diwakar in real life have come down heavily on the film in social media.

What also stands out in the movie is the metaphorical difference in height of the characters: In a Karva Chauth scene, as the men stand tall, the women are dwarfed, not just physically in comparison, but also in terms of their subservience. It is this agential subservience of Richa and her need for self-actualisation that differentiates her from her mother-in-law’s mechanical and surrendered subservience. Her quest to be an individual (and not just a wife or a daughter-in-law) unsettles our daily normal that thrives on the continuous self-sacrifice of women.

The writer is a PhD scholar at IIT, Mumbai