Daldal Season 1 Review: Bhumi Pednekar balances grit, rage, and restraint in a dark crime thriller
Story: Haunted by her past, Mumbai’s newly appointed DCP Rita Ferreira investigates a ruthless serial killer. As the case spirals into darkness, Rita’s personal life unravels, forcing her to confront guilt and buried secrets before ruin.
Review: Set against the grim, pulsating underbelly of Mumbai, Daldal is a psychological crime thriller that fuses the mechanics of a police procedural with an intense character study of a woman fighting battles both on the streets and within herself. Anchored by a raw central performance, the series explores how trauma, power, and societal rot intersect—sometimes effectively, sometimes to its own detriment.
The narrative follows Rita Ferreira (Bhumi Pednekar), a newly appointed Deputy Commissioner of Police whose rise within the force is as symbolic as it is political. Introduced as a fierce, uncompromising officer, Rita’s suppressed rage is evident from the opening moments. Fresh off dismantling a human trafficking racket, she is quickly elevated as the face of “women empowerment” in the department. But the applause is short-lived. Rita is soon tasked with investigating a string of brutal murders that lead her into a psychological maze of violence, guilt, and unresolved trauma.
From the outset, Daldal establishes an unsettling atmosphere. The writing resists easy moral binaries, presenting a world where the line between victim and perpetrator is blurred by neglect, abuse, and systemic failure. Inspired by Vish Dhamija’s novel Bhendi Bazaar, the series delves into Mumbai’s shadowy margins—spaces marked by prostitution, child trafficking, addiction, and institutional apathy. It is within this moral swamp that the show finds its identity, even as it struggles to maintain narrative momentum.
Central to the mystery are Sajid (Aditya Rawal), a drug addict shaped by a traumatic childhood in an orphanage, and Anita (Samara Tijori), a crime journalist driven by ambition and proximity to violence. Their intertwined histories gradually reveal links to a pattern of meticulously planned murders, setting up a cat-and-mouse chase that unfolds across seven episodes. While the premise is gripping, the adaptation smoothens some of the novel’s sharper edges. As a result, several narrative turns feel predictable, with twists that announce themselves well before they land.
Created by Suresh Triveni and written by Sreekanth Agneeswaran, Rohan D’Souza, and Priya Saggi, Daldal benefits from incisive dialogue and a solid investigative framework. The series is more interested in psychological dread than cheap shocks, though it does not shy away from graphic imagery. The frequent close-ups of mutilated bodies and staring eyes amplify the horror but may test viewer endurance. At times, the show lingers too long on brutality, mistaking excess for intensity.
What truly strengthens Daldal is its thematic ambition. The series argues that crime is rarely an isolated act—it is often the cumulative outcome of neglected childhoods, buried truths, and institutional indifference. By focusing on emotional and psychological damage rather than just motive, the show attempts to reframe the crime thriller as a social commentary. This approach lends depth, though it also contributes to the narrative overload that hampers the latter half.
Bhumi Pednekar delivers a commanding performance as Rita Ferreira, arguably the show’s greatest asset. She portrays Rita as a woman fractured by unresolved trauma, maintaining control through sheer force of will. Pednekar relies less on dialogue and more on physical restraint—her rigid posture, unblinking stare, and simmering expressions convey volumes. Rita’s descent into emotional exhaustion feels authentic, making her psychological unravelling as compelling as the mystery she is trying to solve.
The supporting cast adds texture to the narrative. Aditya Rawal is particularly effective, embodying Sajid’s self-destructive despair with disturbing realism. Samara Tijori brings credibility to her role as a journalist navigating moral compromise, while Geeta Agrawal’s grounded performance adds weight to the procedural aspects. Together, the ensemble ensures that the investigation feels immersive, drawing the audience into the chase for answers.
However, Daldal falters in pacing. After a confident setup, the story begins to sag under the weight of multiple subplots and extended backstories. While these threads are thematically relevant, they dilute narrative focus and slow progression. By the time the series reaches its climax, the storytelling feels cluttered and overstretched. The resolution, though conceptually sound, lacks the emotional punch it promises, leaving the finale feeling more exhausting than impactful.
On a technical level, the series is competently executed. Subhajit Mukherjee’s background score complements the dark tonality without overwhelming scenes. The muted colour palette and grim visual design reinforce the oppressive atmosphere, effectively mirroring Rita’s mental state.
In conclusion, Daldal is a gritty, engaging series that succeeds more often than it fails. Its strengths lie in performance, atmosphere, and thematic intent, even if its execution occasionally falters. With tighter pacing and sharper narrative discipline, it could have been an exceptional thriller. As it stands, Daldal is imperfect, intense, and worth watching for its performances, psychological depth, and social commentary.
