In the world of fast-paced college life, hidden truths have a way of unraveling when least expected. Set against the backdrop of an elite university, Guilty is a gripping drama that explores themes of sexual assault, social media trials, and the ambiguous nature of truth. Starring Kiara Advani, Taher Shabbir, Akansha Ranjan Kapoor, and Gurfateh Singh Pirzada, this 2020 film directed by Ruchi Narain takes the audience into the heart of a #MeToo accusation. The film unfolds in contemporary urban India, primarily set in Delhi and inside the corridors of a prestigious college, fitting well within the crime-drama genre with elements of psychological thriller.
The plot revolves around the aftermath of an accusation made by a college student, Tanu (Akansha), who alleges that she was sexually assaulted by VJ (Gurfateh), the star of the college music band and the boyfriend of Nanki (Kiara). As the allegations stir up controversy and become fodder for social media, Nanki finds herself caught in a whirlwind of confusion, guilt, and doubt. Her fierce loyalty to VJ is shaken as she begins questioning the events of that fateful night. The movie delves into her perspective, riddled with flashbacks, inner turmoil, and a constant tug-of-war between defending her boyfriend and confronting uncomfortable truths. The narrative becomes a search for the truth, raising questions about consent, societal judgment, and personal responsibility. The film keeps the tension alive as it builds toward its resolution, without giving away too much too soon.
One of the most remarkable aspects of Guilty is its central performance by Kiara, who plays the role of Nanki. Kiara’s portrayal of a conflicted, emotionally scarred young woman is nuanced and layered. Nanki is not your typical protagonist — she’s a rebellious, punk-inspired character with a sharp edge, often hiding behind her tough exterior. Kiara captures this complexity beautifully, especially in scenes where Nanki’s facade begins to crack, revealing her vulnerability. There’s a particular scene where Nanki’s conflicting emotions come to the surface during a confrontation, and Kiara’s ability to oscillate between anger, guilt, and helplessness is impressive. Akansha as Tanu also gives a strong performance, delivering a portrayal that’s both raw and poignant, making her character’s pain palpable. The supporting cast, especially Gurfateh, holds their own, but this is undoubtedly Kiara’s show, and she delivers with precision.
The direction by Ruchi Narain is sharp and focused, guiding the story through its various emotional peaks and valleys with a steady hand. Narain uses flashbacks and fragmented storytelling to great effect, building suspense and keeping the audience engaged as they try to piece together the truth. The film’s tone is dark and gritty, matching the subject matter, and Narain doesn’t shy away from showing the discomforting aspects of the characters’ experiences. What works well is how the direction avoids turning the narrative into a straightforward “he said, she said” battle. Instead, it explores the psychological toll the accusations take on everyone involved. The screenplay, written by Narain along with Atika Chohan and Kanika Dhillon, is taut, though it does feel a bit rushed toward the end, where the resolution might come across as a little too convenient.
Visually, the film leans into its dark, moody aesthetic. The cinematography by Avinash Arun is striking, with its use of shadow and light to mirror Nanki’s fractured psyche. There’s a consistent play between warm and cold tones — scenes of college parties are bathed in neon lights and chaotic energy, while Nanki’s moments of introspection are often framed in colder, subdued hues. This contrast enhances the film’s tension, as it reflects the dichotomy between appearance and reality. Arun’s camera work, especially in the close-up shots of Nanki, brings the audience closer to her internal struggle, making the film feel more intimate.
The soundtrack by Ketan Sodha adds a contemporary and edgy vibe to the film. Given that the film revolves around a college band, music plays a key role in setting the tone. From pulsating beats at college parties to quieter, more somber tracks that reflect Nanki’s inner turmoil, the music is well-incorporated without overpowering the narrative. A particular highlight is the track “Dhvani,” which captures the essence of youthful rebellion but with an underlying sense of melancholy that matches Nanki’s character arc. The background score, too, effectively amplifies the film’s tense moments, particularly during the investigation scenes.
Another key element that enhances the film’s emotional weight is the editing. Staccato cuts and the use of non-linear storytelling, especially through flashbacks, are executed effectively. The editing keeps the audience in a state of flux, much like Nanki herself, unsure of what to believe. The transitions between the present and past are seamless, creating a disorienting effect that mimics Nanki’s confusion. However, the film occasionally feels bogged down by some repetitive sequences, where the same points are made multiple times, which could have been trimmed to keep the pace sharper.
Costume design also deserves a mention, particularly when it comes to Nanki’s wardrobe. Her punk-inspired clothing — from leather jackets to bold hair colors — becomes an extension of her personality. It signifies her rebellion, her need to shield herself from the world, and her outsider status within the college environment. The contrast between her look and the more traditional attire of other characters, particularly Tanu, is also a subtle visual representation of the clash between the two women.
At its core, Guilty deals with the power dynamics between men and women, the weight of accusations, and the consequences of living in a society where reputations are built and torn down on social media. The film explores how personal trauma intersects with broader societal issues, and in this sense, it’s quite timely. There’s a distinct commentary on how privilege and class affect how accusations are perceived — Nanki and VJ belong to an affluent, English-speaking world, while Tanu hails from a humbler background, and this disparity becomes a point of contention within the film. The narrative raises important questions about credibility, victim-blaming, and the performative nature of support during movements like #MeToo, all without offering easy answers.
Overall, Guilty is a bold and thought-provoking film that tackles sensitive subject matter with a certain level of nuance. It’s not perfect — the film’s resolution may feel a bit too pat, and certain characters, particularly the legal team investigating the allegations, are underdeveloped. However, the strength of the performances, particularly Kiara’s, combined with the film’s dark, atmospheric tone, makes it worth watching. For viewers looking for a film that explores complex emotions and moral ambiguity, this one is a solid choice. It’s a movie that sparks conversation, making you think long after the credits roll.
