Nikita Roy Review: A Curious Inquiry Of Faith, Let Down By Lukewarm Writing

The camera glides through a shadowed alley into a faintly lit house, just past midnight. Sanal Roy (Arjun Rampal) emerges from beneath the floorboards, breathless, reaching for his inhaler — only to be seized by the terror of an unseen presence drawing near. What follows is a chase sequence of formidable tension. Nikita Roy (2025) opens with a brief yet arresting cameo by Rampal, which, quite frankly, stands as its strongest moment. 

Debutante director Kussh Sinha stages a clash between faith and science or truth versus the perceived truth. Though the film positions itself as a supernatural investigative thriller, the film insists on questioning the very foundation of its own genre. Nikita (Sonakshi Sinha), an author and member of the International Rationalist Committee, shares her brother Sanal’s impulse to dismantle mass hysteria and expose untruths. Sinha channels traces of Anjali Bhaati — her investigative cop persona from Dahaad (2023), though the latter still remains superior in comparison. Her presence is composed, methodical, often cutting in its clarity. Branded ziddi by others, she holds onto the term — choosing to read it as persistence, not defiance. Nikita and Sanal’s relationship carries a Jigra (2024)-like quality central to the plot, but is quite emotionally underfed. The sibling dynamic anchors the story, though the film offers little for viewers to grasp or believe in their bond or even the conviction behind their cause. Nikita, positioned as an author dismantling superstition, is clear in intent, but the film’s delivery feels oversimplified and more told than earned.

The antagonist in the story is none other than Amar Dev (Paresh Rawal), whose name literally translates to “immortal god”. Rawal plays the head of Tru Faith Foundation—an ashram where his heavy-handed sermons compel audiences to surrender to his supposed divine power. Rawal’s choice of role is striking, especially when viewed against OMG: Oh My God! (2012), where he stood on the other side—questioning god and religion. The reversal is jarring, yet electric, as he embodies the very figure he once exposed. He plays a calm, calculated, and cold figure, determined to dismantle institutions like Nikita and her brother’s, steering people away from faith. Rawal’s character carries an uncanny familiarity—his white facial hair, the carefully measured pauses in speech, the composed public image, all echoing traits often associated with the prime minister Modi himself. The resemblance lingers, though one can’t claim so with certainty. 

What begins as a confrontation between two belief systems quickly escalates into a battle between their figureheads: one rooted in doubt, the other in doctrine. Director Sinha appears certain of his allegiance, shaping the narrative through instinct rather than inquiry. What initially promises a charged debate, weighing both ends of the spectrum, slips early into imbalance. The first half sustains ambiguity, keeping the audience questioning whether Nikita will truly unravel it all. The second half, however, leaves little room for doubt.

The title further extends to Nikita Roy and The Book of Darkness and the film flirts with the promise of the supernatural, though the so-called ‘book’ remains largely symbolic and is barely present. Instead, Nikita pushes through visions, grief, and spiritual disarray, tracing the inner mechanics of a cult whose grip tightens before its victims even realise they’re bound. The danger of blind faith lies in its refusal to see fault — until someone disrupts the illusion and the cracks begin to show. The film gestures towards a larger commentary on how easily faith, often tethered to political or religious figures, becomes a refuge in a world marked by instability. In such chaos, conviction becomes comfort — something both Nikita and Amar Dev seek to embody, each in their own way.

As a thriller with horror overtones, the film delivers modest scares, though they lean heavily on genre clichés and sound design that feels manufactured. The music signals jumpscares far too early, stripping them of surprise and allowing the viewer to brace long before the moment arrives. Almost all chase sequences in the film are gripping and viscerally staged. But the film’s actual tension lies less in atmosphere and more in the audience’s uncertainty. We struggle to trust a protagonist who herself has no clarity. Nikita moves with a confidence that feels unearned —assured, yet hollow. And still, we stay with her. Maybe it’s the brisk runtime that somehow drags or the quiet hope that our own blind faith in the film’s direction might still lead to something real.

Jolly (Suhail Nayyar), as Nikita’s charming and insistent ex-boyfriend, is the only one who remains by her side through the chaos, becoming her emotional anchor amid loss, pain, and confusion. Their banter initially brings a welcome touch of humour to the narrative, but it fades quickly as their conversations spiral into conflict and reckless decisions—often led by Nikita’s impulsivity. Still, horror and thrillers rarely centre on protagonists who’ve made all the right choices. Survival belongs to those who’ve stumbled repeatedly and lived to tell the tale. In her search for Amar Dev’s secrets, Nikita crosses paths with Sanal’s informant Freya (Kallirroi Tziafeta), whose performance, though brief, holds quite an impact. What’s curious is how, despite each actor delivering strong individual performances, their collective presence lacks cohesion—the ensemble never quite clicks as a singular, unified force.

Rawal and Sinha anchor the narrative as protagonists, but the script ultimately dictates their success—and it falters in delivering sustained engagement. Despite its brief runtime, the film feels protracted and convoluted, particularly in the latter half.  Nikita Roy marks a respectable debut for Kussh Sinha, engaging with compelling questions around faith and belief. Yet the film undermines itself through uneven writing, conspicuous plot holes, and a lack of lasting impact.