Polite Society

Nida Manzoor’s Polite Society (2023) is a riotous, genre-defying explosion of South Asian feminist energy that skillfully occupies the space between a Bollywood spectacle and a Jane Austen comedy of manners. Centering on Ria Khan (Priya Kansara), an aspiring teenage stuntwoman who spends her days filmmaking and practicing “flying kicks,” the film transforms the domestic anxiety of an arranged marriage into a high-stakes martial arts thriller. When Ria’s older sister Lena (Ritu Arya)—a disillusioned art school dropout—suddenly gets engaged to a wealthy, seemingly “perfect” bachelor, Ria senses a sinister plot. What follows is a vibrant deconstruction of the “polite” expectations placed upon British-Pakistani women, arguing that the greatest threat to female autonomy often comes from the very structures—both familial and cultural—that claim to offer security.

The film’s most radical maneuver is its portrayal of its antagonist, Raheela (Nimra Bucha), the mother of the groom. Raheela represents the “internalized patriarchy” in its most grotesque and formidable form—a woman who has climbed the social ladder and now seeks to reproduce her own control over a younger generation. Their conflict is not just a battle over a wedding, but a literal and figurative duel between the “dignity” of the old guard and the “rebellion” of the new. Manzoor uses the language of Kung Fu cinema to literalize Ria’s emotional struggle; her high kicks and training montages are not just stunts, but the outward expression of a young girl’s refusal to be silenced or sidelined. The fight scenes are choreographed with a distinctively feminine rage, emphasizing that for women like Ria and Lena, survival is a contact sport.

Ultimately, Polite Society is a celebration of “sisterhood” as a protective shield against the “polite” erasures of the world. The bond between Ria and Lena is the heart of the narrative—a messy, fiercely loyal connection that transcends the shiny promises of romantic marriage. By framing the wedding as a “heist” that needs to be thwarted, Manzoor subverts the traditional Bollywood finale, replacing the “happily ever after” with the “ride or die” solidarity of female friends and siblings. The film argues that a woman’s true wealth is her creative spark and her community of allies. It is a loud, colorful, and unapologetic reminder that being “impolite” is sometimes the only way to preserve one’s soul.