Director: Pushkar Mahabal
Cast: Mayur More, Tigmanshu Dhulia, Deven Bhojani, Hakkim Shahjahan
Platform: SonyLIV
Genre: Crime Thriller / Mockumentary
 
In the ever-growing catalogue of crime thrillers and true-crime dramas flooding streaming platforms, it takes either supreme boldness or extreme ingenuity to stand out. Black, White & Gray – Love Kills, a SonyLIV original created by Pushkar Sunil Mahabal, opts for both. What begins as a seemingly conventional retelling of a gruesome murder case morphs into a daring experiment in format, tone, and storytelling philosophy. It’s not a perfect ride—but it's certainly an unforgettable one.
 
Set against the backdrop of Nagpur and branching out across locations like Hyderabad, Uttarakhand, and Nepal, the series begins with the mysterious disappearance—and presumed murder—of a young woman named Gauri (played by Palak Jaiswal). What complicates the tragedy is the identity of her alleged killer: a young man from a lower socio-economic background, unnamed for much of the show, played with deep conviction by Mayur More.
 
He is the son of a politician’s driver; she is the daughter of the politician himself (Anant Jog), and their relationship, already strained under class conflict, spirals into a fatal love story. What starts as a tender tale of two star-crossed lovers quickly escalates into a nationwide media circus when Gauri’s body is discovered and three more murders are linked to the same suspect. Among the victims: a cab driver (Hakkim Shahjahan), a blind ex-cop (Tigmanshu Dhulia), and a teenager. The accused flees, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions.
 
Enter Daniel Gray, a foreign investigative journalist looking to piece together the full story. But as he interviews friends, family members, officials, and witnesses, it becomes clear that the show isn’t interested in delivering straightforward answers. Instead, Black, White & Gray chooses to distort the frame entirely. These aren't real people giving real interviews—they're actors in a pseudo-documentary. The re-enactments aren't based on verified facts—they're part of the same fictional narrative. What you're watching isn't based on a true story; it only pretends to be.
 
This layered structure gives the show its distinct edge. The viewer is placed in a constant state of doubt: who do you believe? Which version of the events is real, and does that even matter? The title isn’t just thematic—it’s a thesis.
 
Mayur More, best known for Kota Factory, delivers a performance that is as understated as it is quietly devastating. His portrayal of the unnamed accused oscillates between fragility and suppressed rage. There's a sense of real humanity in his confusion, especially in scenes where he's forced to reflect on his role in the tragedy. As the character offers his version of the story to the journalist, More brings a disarming vulnerability that makes it difficult to view him as a cold-blooded killer—even when all evidence suggests otherwise.
 
Palak Jaiswal, in a role that might have been reduced to a plot device in lesser hands, brings fire and depth to Gauri. She’s assertive and conflicted, naïve and rebellious—all at once. Her chemistry with More is one of the show's strengths, grounding the early episodes in believable emotion before the chaos unfolds.
 
Tigmanshu Dhulia steals every scene he’s in. Playing a former police officer with a physical disability and a biting sense of irony, he injects the show with much-needed grit and gravitas. His death—one of the more senseless in the narrative—feels haunting because of how lived-in his performance is.
 
The supporting cast, including Hakkim Shahjahan as the ill-fated cab driver and Sanjay Kumar Sahu as the "real boy" being interviewed, does an impressive job of straddling the line between dramatic realism and mockumentary artifice. Sahu, in particular, is a quiet revelation, often communicating more through micro-expressions than words.
 
Writer-director Pushkar Sunil Mahabal clearly had a big vision—and he deserves credit for seeing it through. The show’s dual-layered storytelling, which blends documentary-style interviews with dramatized reconstructions, is an ambitious gamble. At its best, it’s reminiscent of something Charlie Kaufman might attempt in the true-crime space—smart, self-aware, and subversive.
 
However, not all elements land smoothly. The media satire—especially the portrayal of news anchors and newsroom politics—is broad and occasionally cartoonish. Some transitions between “real” interviews and reenactments are jarring, especially when the performances feel tonally mismatched. And while the first half of the series builds tension steadily, there’s a slight slump mid-way where the pacing meanders and the emotional stakes take a backseat to style.
 
Still, the cinematography by Saee Bhope deserves special mention. Episode 5 stands out for its haunting use of shadows, framing, and silence. The use of Silent Night as a musical motif adds an eerie layer of irony. The series often relies on silence and stillness to convey dread—something far more effective than jump cuts or shock twists.
 
Beyond the mystery, Black, White & Gray is also a social commentary on the intersection of class, caste (implied more than stated), media sensationalism, and systemic privilege. The power imbalance between the two lovers mirrors broader societal fractures. The boy’s invisibility, his lack of name, and his role as a disposable suspect speak volumes about whose stories get told and whose guilt is assumed.
 
Even the journalist—Daniel Gray—is a subtle critique. A foreigner parachuting into a local tragedy to "uncover the truth" becomes just another actor in a carefully staged narrative. Is he here to find justice or just a good story?
 
Black, White & Gray – Love Kills is a compelling blend of crime thriller, social drama, and narrative experiment. It’s not flawless—the pacing dips, the satire wobbles, and some of the twists teeter on implausible—but it’s undeniably bold. At a time when many web series follow the formula, this one bends it beyond recognition For viewers willing to lean into the meta-narrative and embrace its storytelling quirks, there’s much to admire. The performances, particularly by Mayur More, Palak Jaiswal, and Tigmanshu Dhulia, elevate the script’s intentions, and the overall execution—while uneven—is admirably daring.
 
In a world obsessed with the binary of guilty or innocent, Black, White & Gray offers a murkier, more unsettling truth: sometimes, all we’re left with is the fog in between.