Cast:
Vaani Kapoor, Vaibhav Raj Gupta, Manu Rishi Chadha, Jameel Khan, Raghubir Yadav, Shriya Pilgaonkar, Aaditi Pohankar, Akash Dahiya
Directors:
Gopi Puthran, Manan Rawat
Streaming on: Netflix
Genre: Mythological Horror | Crime Thriller | Supernatural Drama
Language: Hindi (with multiple dialects and English)
Rating: ⭐⭐½ (2.5 out of 5)
Netflix’s Mandala Murders is a classic case of what happens when a show bites off more than it can chew. It’s dark, dense, and dripping with mythology—but somewhere between the layered world-building and the tangled plot threads, it loses its grip on what matters most: storytelling clarity and emotional resonance.
Directed by Gopi Puthran and Manan Rawat, and featuring a sprawling cast led by Vaani Kapoor and Vaibhav Raj Gupta, Mandala Murders sets itself up as a genre blender—part supernatural horror, part investigative crime drama, part mythological allegory. It unfolds in Charandaspur, a fictional, fog-draped town that harbors a terrifying cult called the Aayastis. Their bizarre belief system hinges on bodily sacrifice and a deity named Yast, who promises boons in exchange for thumbs—though, as the show later reveals, the cost is far more grotesque.
The first few minutes are gripping. A mutilated corpse. A ritualistic ceremony. A machine straight out of a gothic sci-fi horror dream. It’s strange, it’s surreal, and it teases something bold. But that sharp momentum fizzles out as soon as Mandala Murders shifts gears into its crime procedural structure.
Vikram (Vaibhav Raj Gupta), a suspended cop with a traumatic past, returns to his hometown with the goal of finding his missing mother. Soon, he’s pulled into the vortex of ritualistic killings and is reluctantly paired with Rea Thomas (Vaani Kapoor), a stoic, trauma-stricken CIB officer trying to silence her own ghosts. Together, they navigate a growing pile of corpses and an even larger pile of unresolved personal issues.
To the show’s credit, it’s not just horror for horror’s sake. The narrative attempts to touch on themes like inherited trauma, faith versus fanaticism, ecological degradation, and the murky overlap between religion and politics. It’s trying to be about something, which sets it apart from many surface-level thrillers. Unfortunately, Mandala Murders constantly undercuts its own ambition by crowding every scene with unnecessary exposition, flashbacks, and characters that come and go without purpose.
Stylistically, the series looks polished but overly familiar. There’s a tired Netflix visual palette at work—gritty blues, moody yellows, and lots of smoke—but what saves it from feeling entirely generic is the unique production design. The cult’s technology, their rituals, the symbolic "boon machine," and the body horror (a man literally turned into a starfish) give the show a strange visual identity that’s memorable, if not always effective.
The performances are a mixed bag. Vaibhav Raj Gupta has a tragic vulnerability that grounds his character even when the writing lets him down. Vaani Kapoor, however, feels stiff. Her coldness may be intentional, a product of PTSD, but it translates into a flat emotional register that doesn’t shift even in moments of high drama. Surveen Chawla is, without doubt, the standout—her portrayal of Ananya, a politician with sharp instincts and sharper morals, is consistently compelling. Shriya Pilgaonkar, as the cult’s red-sari-clad leader Rukmini, deserved better writing and direction—her character is meant to be haunting, but her menace is never fully realized.
One of Mandala Murders’ major issues is its pacing. With eight episodes, there’s room to build atmosphere, but instead, the show doubles down on convoluted backstories and poorly explained mythology. Instead of letting dread simmer, it throws in half-baked action scenes and expositional detours that only muddy the mystery.
Still, there’s something undeniably fascinating about the world it’s trying to build. The idea of a Frankenstein-like deity created by ancient technology, a cult driven by belief and blood, and a town torn between memory and myth—that’s gold, if treated with restraint and precision. Unfortunately, the execution is uneven, and the show often feels like it’s trying to emulate better horror-thrillers without developing its own rhythm.
Mandala Murders is a well-intentioned, occasionally gripping misfire. It has flashes of brilliance—both visual and thematic—but those are buried under a clunky script, inconsistent tone, and emotional flatness. If you're craving something different in the Indian horror-thriller space, this is worth a look. But be warned: the real mystery is why a show with this much promise ends up feeling so muddled.