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Meet actress who became an OTT sensation at 41, stealing the spotlight without ever playing the lead, her name is...

Meet actress who became an OTT sensation at 41, stealing the spotlight without ever playing the lead, her name is...

India.com3 days ago
She may not always play the central role, but 41-year-old Surveen Chawla has carved out a space in OTT where performance matters more than star titles. With each project, she has shown that screen time isn't what makes an impact; presence does.
From Sacred Games to Parched and Criminal Justice, Surveen has stepped into characters layered with depth and contradictions, defying the stereotype of what an actress in her position 'should' be doing. Her choices have consistently leaned toward roles that challenge both her craft and the audience's expectations. What's next for Surveen Chawla?
Her next leap is into supernatural horror with Amazon Prime Video's Andhera, set for a global premiere on August 14. Directed by Raghav Dhar, the series also stars Priya Bapat, Karanvir Malhotra, and Prajakta Koli.
Even in ensemble casts, Surveen's screen magnetism makes her hard to ignore. Whether it's a single scene or a central arc, she leaves a lingering impression. Surveen Chawla in Mandala Murders
In Netflix's Mandala Murders, she played Ananya Bhardwaj, not the lead, yet one of the show's most unforgettable performances. Her mysterious presence and intense delivery became talking points among viewers.
Earlier this year, in Criminal Justice Season 4, she delivered a performance that was both subtle and piercing, cementing her position as one of OTT's most reliable performers. She also held her own in Rana Naidu Season 2, ensuring her name stayed on the list of actors who make any project better. Why is she called a digital space power player?
Surveen's track record spans some of OTT's most acclaimed titles, Rangbaaz, Sacred Games, and Parched, each reinforcing her reputation as an actress who doesn't just 'fit in' but elevates the material.
With Andhera, her reach is expected to grow further. It's not just another role for her; it's an entry into the genre of supernatural horror, where atmosphere and nuance matter as much as dialogue delivery. And if her past work is anything to go by, she's set to dominate the screen once again.
In an era where OTT platforms are rewriting the meaning of stardom, Surveen Chawla is proof that an actor's influence isn't tied to billing order; it's measured by the moments that stay with you long after the credits roll.
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Andhera Review: Karanvir Malhotra And Priya Bapat Shine In A Flawed But Watchable Horror Saga
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Andhera Review: Karanvir Malhotra And Priya Bapat Shine In A Flawed But Watchable Horror Saga

Last Updated: Andhera Review: Gaurav Desai's atmospheric horror-thriller blends folklore, sci-fi, and urban myth into a chilling Mumbai-set tale. The Indian streaming landscape has been courting shadows of late. Horror has found a new appetite here, fattened by the success of titles like Khauf and Mandala Murders, each bringing its own peculiar flavour of unease. Into this thriving gloom walks Andhera, Gaurav Desai's latest offering—ambitious, sprawling, and stitched from fabrics as disparate as folklore, science fiction, urban myth, and the private griefs we carry. It wants to terrify, to provoke thought, to be grand, and in its most hypnotic moments, it almost succeeds. It is a creature of familiar bones but fresh skin, imperfect yet difficult to turn away from. Mumbai's skyline has never looked so complicit. Its towers glint in the sun while something unseen stalks its streets, an ancient hunger humming under the concrete. Inspector Kalpana Kadam, stubborn and sharp-eyed, finds herself staring into this abyss after a young woman, Bani Baruah, vanishes. But before she disappears from the city, Bani vanishes from herself—in a sequence that lingers long after it is over. A tranquil lake. A man named Prithvi Sheth, speaking like one who knows the language of despair. An invitation to 'let go." And then the daylight folds in on itself, the air turns heavy, and his voice belongs to something far older, far crueler. By the time Bani returns to her hotel room, the darkness is following her indoors. It whispers through the voice on her father's phone, calls her names that bruise, and begins snuffing out the lights one by one until she is swallowed whole. The narrative fractures here, spilling into a rain-lashed police station where Kalpana pushes against the indifference and sexism of her male colleagues, and into the unsettled mind of Jay, a medical student who has seen Bani's death before it happens. His visions are dismissed as the junkyard dreams of trauma, but they throb with the kind of detail that refuses to be ignored. In his orbit drifts Rumi, a paranormal vlogger with a taste for the unseen, warning that the city itself is about to be pulled under. Their search leads them to Aatma Healing, a wellness centre that feels more like a trap disguised as sanctuary. Ayesha, its chief consultant, greets them with the serenity of a still pond but denies knowing Prithvi Sheth. Patients here escape into virtual realms through silver coronets that promise peace but seem to open other, darker doors. And yet Prithvi is not supposed to be here at all—he has been lying in a hospital bed since an accident with his brother Jay, an accident in which Jay swears he wrestled Prithvi's soul from a shadow that wanted to keep it. This revelation binds the three into a reluctant alliance. Their path through the city's back-alleys and high-rises is littered with figures who seem plucked from half-remembered dreams: Jude, a reformed convict whose yearning for his daughter makes him reckless; Darius, a killer whose eyes are as flat as shut windows; Kanitkar, the sardonic officer who lends Kalpana loyalty and laughter; Omar, a boy who has survived cruelty too soon; and Dr. Sahay, whose presence in the story is a riddle the series refuses to solve too quickly. If Andhera has a single unassailable strength, it is the mood it builds. The city's light feels rationed, as though every beam has to earn its place. The darkness, meanwhile, is lush and sentient. Shadows curl in corners like listening animals. The VFX renders the supernatural with conviction, and the sound design treats silence like a weapon. Raaghav Dhar's direction understands the power of patience; he lets the fear grow roots before he asks it to bloom. The cast wears its characters like second skins. 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Andhera Season 1 Review: A supernatural thriller that thrives on atmosphere over jump scares
Andhera Season 1 Review: A supernatural thriller that thrives on atmosphere over jump scares

Time of India

time37 minutes ago

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Andhera Season 1 Review: A supernatural thriller that thrives on atmosphere over jump scares

Story: Beneath Mumbai's glittering skyline, a sinister force preys on the living. A fearless cop and a haunted medical student must unite to confront the encroaching darkness before it engulfs the city forever. Review: A good supernatural thriller doesn't always need to rely on relentless jump scares; if it can weave a sustained sense of dread that seeps under your skin, it has already done half its job. Andhera, created by Gaurav Desai and directed by Raaghav Dar, mostly succeeds in this regard. Its strength lies in atmosphere, tension, and an urban-horror aesthetic that's both intriguing and unnerving—though not without a few missteps. The show opens with a chilling mystery. Bani Baruah (Jahnvi Rawat), desperate to contact Dr. Prithvi Sheth (Pranay Pachauri), vanishes under unexplained circumstances. Inspector Kalpana Kadam (Priya Bapat) takes charge of the case, her investigation leading her to Prithvi—now in a coma—and his younger brother Jay (Karanvir Malhotra), a troubled medical student plagued by terrifying nightmares involving Bani and other shadowy apparitions. The darkness—quite literally the andhera—seems intent on clinging to him. Jay turns to Rumi (Prajakta Koli), a podcaster dedicated to supernatural phenomena and the only one willing to believe his story. As Kalpana, Jay, and Rumi's paths converge, they are drawn into a spiraling web of secrets. Each revelation edges them closer to a hidden, sinister presence lurking in the shadows—a force blurring the line between reality and nightmare. The further they dig, the more reality fractures, and what begins as unease soon curdles into outright terror. At its core, Andhera is about the power of story. Its tension, slow-burn reveals, and constant shifting between the tangible and the inexplicable are what keep viewers hooked—until the narrative pivots into unexpected territory. Midway through, the investigation begins brushing against a parallel thread involving an experimental treatment for depression. By the time the climax arrives, a comic book reference is employed to explain the antagonist's origins and motive—a bizarre tonal shift that may divide audiences. One of the show's missed opportunities lies in its supporting arcs. The character of Darius (Vatsal Sheth), built up as a figure of interest for both the police and a special bureau, makes only fleeting appearances and is ultimately reduced to a henchman for the experiment subplot. For a series that thrives on slow character reveals, this abrupt resolution feels underdeveloped. Where Andhera excels is in its world-building. Cinematographer Huentsang Mohapatra bathes the series in a palette of shadow and muted hues, capturing Mumbai's glimmering skyline as an ominous counterpoint to its darker underbelly. The visual motif of diluted, pishach-like eyes in the possessed is deeply unsettling. Ketan Sodha's score is equally vital—its haunting notes underscore the dread, amplifying both the psychological and supernatural tension. The writing team—Desai, Dar, Karan Anshuman, and Chintan Sarda—keeps the pace taut for much of the eight-episode run. However, the momentum does falter in the latter episodes as repetition sets in, with certain beats feeling like variations of earlier sequences. The suspense, while steady, rarely crescendos into outright terror; instead, the show leans into an ever-present unease, which may not satisfy viewers craving sharper shocks. Performance-wise, Priya Bapat anchors the narrative with a nuanced portrayal of Kalpana Kadam—a resolute cop whose commitment to the case is shadowed by her own unresolved traumas. Karanvir Malhotra convincingly captures Jay's dual state of guilt over his brother's condition and bewilderment at his surreal experiences. Prajakta Koli is a standout as Rumi, bringing warmth, empathy, and an understated charisma to the screen; her chemistry with Jay, though brief, is affecting. Surveen Chawla delivers a layered performance as a consultant at a healing clinic, hinting at more than meets the eye. Vatsal Sheth does well with the limited material given to Darius, even if his character's arc feels undercooked. Pravin Dabas as Dr. Sahay and Pranay Pachauri as the comatose Prithvi make their presence felt in smaller but important moments. While Andhera stumbles in parts—particularly with certain narrative detours and underexplored character arcs—it remains an atmospheric and competently crafted supernatural thriller. Its commitment to mood, world-building, and psychological tension elevates it above many genre peers. For viewers seeking an unsettling urban horror that blends the supernatural with hints of noir, Andhera is worth stepping into… if you don't mind losing your way in the dark.

Prajakta Koli and Surveen Chawla's 'Andhera' web-series review: It's more than just a horror show
Prajakta Koli and Surveen Chawla's 'Andhera' web-series review: It's more than just a horror show

First Post

time37 minutes ago

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Prajakta Koli and Surveen Chawla's 'Andhera' web-series review: It's more than just a horror show

Credit must be given to the makers to put together all their ideas and mix it into one show. Even when it overstays its welcome and is marred by inconsistent vein, Andhera ultimately feels like a tolerable attempt Cast: Priya Bapat, Karanvir Malhotra, Prajakta Koli, Surveen Chawla, Vatsal Sheth, Parvin Dabas, Pranay Pachauri Director: Raaghav Dar Language: Hindi Prime Video's Andhera begins with a couple's homily conversation on a CGI-coded beach that soon morphs into the show's first jump scare. We get another one before the opening credits begin to roll, and by the time we reach the third episode, the total goes up to 786 with little exaggeration. It's hard to describe what the show is aiming for since the makers bite more than they can chew. It has multiple pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that creator Gaurav Desai and director Raaghav Dar try to intertwine with hit and miss results. But they do try to legitimize the moniker by keeping things in the dark, both for the characters and the viewers. And there are endless conversations about how they feel darkness around them. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD A bruised Priya Bapat who's investigating the case of a missing girl has visions about her traumatic past that leads her to the omnipresent Surveen Chawla. An encounter supposedly for healing exposes her sexual identity. The social subtext is handled with care and restrain. The other piece of this puzzle is Karanvir Malhotra, who's battling depression and PTSD. He's terrorized by an evil spirit whose screeches bring back memories of Vikram Bhatt's endless 1920 franchises. There's Prajakta Koli, (almost) playing herself, called Rumi. Given the noir splashed on us, this name suggests she could be the only character to lighten up the scene. The idea to keep the frames gloomy is unquestionably intentional. They are mostly bathed in blue, and all the spots are soulless set-pieces, be it a children's healthcare or a police station or a content creator's workplace. People in Andhera don't use electricity purely to make sure they are able to justify the name of the series. Unlike Prime Video's Khauff, which was more brutal and visceral in its telling, this one aims for a Bollywoodized treatment that adds jump scares more for effect than impact. And given the changing and evolving landscape of horror, especially with Together and Weapons recently, Andhera, despite the heightened ambitions, gets dwarfed in the crowd only because of its inability to decide what tone to adapt to. That's not to say it's a sore thumb. The idea to create a concoction and cocktail of mental health, sexual identities, supernatural, and horror is as ambitious on paper as it's on screen. The creepy yet crackling visuals accompanied by a daunting background music, especially towards the end of episode three, give the show the mood it needed and deserved. What takes away the essence of the narrative is the ill-timed humour. A scene where Rumi and Jay invite the evil spirit is so Jaani Dushman-esque that you yearn for Raj Babbar's hysterical expressions while calling Manisha Koirala's Divya with all his eroticism. The long-lost Kavin Dave makes an appearance that feels straight out of I Hate Luv Storys. There are some glaring cliches too. Two male police officers deride a female cop for what else but her gender. She has a cringe cohort that cracks lunatic jokes. But the real issue here is the big reveal! Why he did what he did! It could be acquired taste. It's not your usual revenge saga. It has to do something with human consciousness and immortality. After ticking the boxes of horror, comedy, whodunnit, Andhera makes an endeavour to veer into the space of sci-fi. STORY CONTINUES BELOW THIS AD Credit must be given to the makers to put together all their ideas and mix it into one show. Even when it overstays its welcome and is marred by inconsistent vein, Andhera ultimately feels like a tolerable attempt. But do you know how it feels when you feel a film or a show that could have been so much more ends up being middling? DARK! Rating: 3 (out of 5 stars) Andhera is now streaming on Prime Video

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