Why Women’s Stories Face a Double Standard While Men’s Films Go Unquestioned

When Maa Behen hit the screens, critics pulled out their magnifying glasses. Every dialogue, every costume choice, even the background music was weighed against an invisible checklist of what a ‘good’ women’s film should be. You could almost hear the sighs in the review rooms: “Is it too melodramatic? Does it empower enough?”

Now compare that with the buzz around Bandar. It’s a rugged, male‑led adventure that, frankly, got a lot less forensic attention. Reviewers praised its action sequences, nodded approvingly at the swagger of the lead, and then moved on—no deep dive into how the film handles masculinity, power dynamics, or the very tropes it leans on.

It feels like a two‑track train. On the one hand, stories about mothers, sisters, or any woman who steps out of the domestic box are examined for authenticity, representation, and moral messaging. On the other, films that centre a man’s journey are allowed to be just… films. The disparity isn’t subtle; it’s baked into the way headlines are written, how social media threads form, and even in the awards that get handed out.

What’s puzzling is that the scrutiny isn’t always about quality. Maa Behen boasts solid performances, a well‑crafted narrative, and a soundtrack that stays with you long after the credits roll. Yet the conversation quickly pivots to whether the heroine’s arc feels “too progressive” or “not radical enough.” Those are questions rarely asked of a male protagonist who simply decides to break a few rules.

One could argue that the industry is trying to be more inclusive, that the extra attention is a sign of progress. But inclusion shouldn’t mean interrogation. If we truly want balance, the yardstick must be the same for everyone—whether the story is about a mother’s sacrifice or a man’s redemption.

Let’s be honest: audiences are hungry for nuanced characters, regardless of gender. What they get instead is a subtle, almost unconscious bias that says women’s narratives need to educate, while men’s can just entertain. This doesn’t just affect critics; it shapes marketing budgets, distribution decisions, and ultimately, the kinds of stories that get told.

So, the next time you read a review that asks, “Does this film empower women?” ask yourself the counterpart: “Does this film challenge toxic masculinity?” If the answer is “no one’s asking,” we’ve got work to do.

In the end, cinema thrives on diversity of voice. Let’s give every story the same thoughtful consideration, not just the ones that fit a preconceived notion of what gender‑focused cinema should look like.