System review: Sonakshi Sinha, Jyotika's legal drama is sensitive but lacks impact

Over the years, Indian cinema has repeatedly shown men fighting impossible cases, delivering dramatic monologues, and emerging as heroes inside courtrooms. Prime Video’s System, starring Sonakshi Sinha and Jyotika, changes that dynamic by putting women at the centre of the narrative. And the beauty of the film lies not in legal technicalities or high-voltage twists, but in the sensitivity with which it has been written and executed.

Directed by Ashwiny Iyer Tiwari, System unfolds gently, like someone turning the page of a gripping novel. It is one of those films that does not fully hit you while watching it. The impact comes later, when certain scenes begin replaying in your mind, and conversations return to haunt you.

The film cleverly opens with the subject of nepotism. Honestly, it is a smart casting choice to have Sonakshi headline the part of the budding lawyer, Neha. There is an interesting overlap between her real life and her character’s journey here. Neha is the daughter of a celebrated lawyer and is constantly trying to prove she deserves a place beyond her surname.

Even though her father runs a successful law firm, Neha chooses to work in the public prosecutor’s office... or perhaps, she is made to. Her father’s test before allowing her into his world is simple: win 10 consecutive cases. Neha enters the system wanting to fight honestly, but quickly realises sincerity alone cannot survive inside courtrooms.

Sonakshi plays Neha with warmth and restraint. There is no attempt to make her invincible or overly dramatic. She feels like an ordinary woman trying to survive an intimidating profession. Visually, too, the film keeps her refreshingly real. Minimal makeup, simple styling, no unnecessary glam shots – these are actors playing parts, not heroines trying to look flawless between emotional breakdowns.

Then enters the stenographer in court, Sarika, played by Jyotika, and the film instantly becomes richer. During a coincidental meeting, she subtly points out loopholes in an important case, helping Neha win an argument. She initially agrees to help Neha for extra money, but the arrangement slowly develops into a friendship. However, it is put to the test soon when Neha is pitted against her father in the final case.

Jyotika is outstanding in the film. There is such quiet power in her performance that you cannot look away from her. Her softness, exhaustion, vulnerability, and intelligence make Sarika the emotional backbone of the film. Sarika’s life also becomes the film’s sharpest commentary on class divides. She is raising her daughter single-handedly while caring for her maimed husband. She is brilliant, observant, and understands the law better than many lawyers around her, yet life never gave her the privilege to pursue it professionally. That difference becomes painfully visible whenever she discusses cases with Neha. One woman has access, privilege, and opportunity. The other only has instinct and survival.

There is also a lovely little scene where Neha treats Sarika to a cup of chai latte, and she immediately makes a face after taking a sip, insisting tea should taste like actual tea. It is such a tiny moment, but it beautifully captures the film’s larger point about class and authenticity. You can make ordinary things fancy, but realness is what creates connection.

Another deeply affecting moment comes when Sarika talks about poverty and sacrifice. She explains how, when people have no money left to give, they begin sacrificing parts of themselves instead – their dignity, dreams, emotional peace. And slowly, that erosion kills the soul. It is one of the film’s most heartbreaking moments because Ashwiny never stages it theatrically but lets viewers feel it.

And that restraint becomes the film’s biggest strength – whether it is intimacy, violence, or emotional trauma, nothing here feels sensationalised. Ashwiny approaches vulnerable moments with tenderness, bringing a distinct female gaze to the storytelling.

Ashutosh Gowariker plays Neha’s father with enough authority to make the conflict believable. He may be a stronger director than an actor, but the role only needs command, and he delivers that effectively. Adinath Kothare, however, feels disappointingly underused despite being a fabulous performer. Still, it is also Ashwiny’s maturity that the men here are not reduced to one-dimensional villains.

What System also does particularly well is question everyday patriarchy, not just inside families where sons are trusted more than daughters, but also inside institutions designed entirely around male convenience. A brief mention of the lack of decent washrooms for women at workplaces lands harder than many dramatic speeches because of how real it feels.

The film also examines how justice itself becomes a privilege. The wealthy and powerful find ways to escape consequences, while the underprivileged struggle to even afford legal battles. Yet despite these powerful ideas, the screenplay lacks major emotional highs. The climax becomes predictable too early, and there are moments where the film feels unsure whether it wants to be a hard-hitting courtroom drama or an intimate relationship study.

However, in a genre that often depends on screaming matches and dramatic breakdowns, System chooses empathy instead. And while that softness makes System stand apart, you still wish the film hit harder.