Promised a Swamp, Delivered a Puddle!

Promised a Swamp, Delivered a Puddle : My quick take on web series “Daldal”

(Amazon Prime)

Every now and then, you start a series not out of excitement, but inertia. That’s how DalDal entered my watchlist. With the Indian cricket calendar unusually quiet (post Kiwis series) and expectations cautiously neutral, Amazon Prime’s crime thriller felt like a reasonable punt. Seven episodes later, it felt less like entertainment and more like endurance training.

The title suggests a murky, inescapable swamp, the kind that pulls you in deeper with every step. Think Hitchcock, think Psycho. What DalDal actually offers is closer to a rain puddle on a Mumbai footpath. Slightly dirty, mildly slippery, and entirely avoidable. Based on the novel Bhendi Bazar, the series may have richer source material, but the adaptation feels like it skimmed the outline and skipped the nuance.

DalDal tries very hard to be dark. The atmosphere is persistently sour, a blanket of सडू energy draped over every frame. Scenes unfold at a glacial pace, as though momentum itself is under investigation. The non-linear editing, presumably meant to add intrigue, instead feels haphazard. Less narrative experimentation, more footage assembled after a minor earthquake in the editing room.

Mood alone doesn’t make a thriller. Tension does. And here, tension rarely shows up for duty.

There are moments when the series briefly stirs, largely thanks to seasoned Marathi actors like Chinmay Mandlekar, who bring texture and intent even when the script doesn’t fully cooperate.

Samara (Deepak) Tijori emerges as a pleasant surprise. She brings energy and brilliance. Aditya (Paresh) Rawal, on the other hand, is handed a potentially compelling role as a drug addict and manages to leave barely a trace. At this stage, his script selection appears to need external supervision.

The biggest disappointment, however, is Bhumi Pednekar. This role had all the ingredients to position her as the OTT era’s answer to Mardaani. Instead, what we get is a performance best described as Botox-Chic.

Her expressions are frozen, her reactions muted, and her face seems locked into a permanent state of mild displeasure. Lips appear to be running an independent subplot. Whatever the directorial brief was, it resulted in a character arc that barely bends, let alone evolves. The fast-forward button ends up doing more acting than the protagonist herself.

DalDal opts to reveal the culprit early, placing its bets on the motivation to sustain interest. It’s a risky choice, and here, it doesn’t pay off. The “why” turns out to be a familiar cocktail: generational trauma, drug networks, and the evergreen “Apun ka time aayega” revenge blueprint. None of it feels fresh, urgent, or deeply explored.

Just when patience is running out, DalDal shows signs of life. The last two episodes are noticeably more pacy and slightly racy, offering glimpses of the thriller it might have been all along. The climax is predictable, but competently executed and reasonably watchable. By this point, even basic narrative momentum feels like progress.

DalDal never quite becomes the swamp it promises to be. It remains a shallow marsh that occasionally ripples. Not a brilliant crime thriller, but watchable if expectations are modest and options limited. It spends most of its runtime clearing its throat, only to finally speak in the last act.