Sambhavavivaranam Nalara Sangham (Malayalam web series)
Growing up in the back alleys and temple grounds of ‘Thiruvanchipuram’, a gang of nobodies decide they want to earn some respect, by hook or crook. In his latest web series Sambhavavivaranam Nalara Sangham (The Chronicles of the 4.5 Gang), director Krishand takes that modest ambition and spins it into a crooked, funny, and strangely charming crime saga.
At the centre is Arikuttan (Sanju Sivram), a man determined to have his life story told. He ropes in an eccentric writer, Maithreyan (Jagadish), to pen what he hopes will be a glorious biography that would redeem his life of crime. Through their conversations, the show unravels in flashbacks, tracking Arikuttan and his gang of four-and-a-half — Kanji (Sreenath Babu), Maniyan (Shambhu), Althaf (Niranj Maniyan Pilla Raju), and the short-tempered Moonga (Sachin Joseph) — from their teenage hustles to their misadventures in adulthood.
Much like Krishand’s earlier Purusha Pretham, the seriousness of the subject matter is constantly undercut by a sly, bone-dry humour. The show never takes itself too seriously. Even in its bloodiest moments, there’s an undercurrent of comedy, whether in the way characters speak, fight, or dream, to the extent that it is, at times, unsettling. Krishand also leans into visual quirks — comic book-style titles, graphic flourishes, and playful self-awareness.
Part of the show’s charm comes from its gleeful tweaks of reality, likely a creative workaround to sidestep legal hurdles. But rather than feeling restrictive, it feels playful. Thiruvananthapuram becomes Thiruvanchipuram, Ram Gopal Varma turns into Ram Govind Varma, and Veegaland is reimagined as Megha Land. These small shifts give the series a mischievous, parallel-universe vibe, almost like an inside joke with the audience, making the world feel inventive and fun.
The show’s influences from the gangster genre are visible. It toys with grand tropes of gangster myth-making (Satya comes to mind with the series’ RGV reference), borrows a Scorsese-esque love for unreliable narrators, and flashes a comic-book sensibility à la Frank Miller. Yet the series remains unmistakably Krishand’s, local in flavour and wilfully eccentric. The tone is irreverent without being flippant, and you can tell the director relishes the messiness of his characters, allowing their failures to pile up until absurdity becomes inevitable.
The performances bring the gang to life. Sanju Sivram is superb as Arikuttan, moving seamlessly from desperate dreamer to swaggering thug. There’s a scene late in the series where he explains why he chose the world of crime, and while the logic doesn’t entirely convince, Sanju’s performance makes it affecting. Among the gang, Sreenath Babu is brilliantly unhinged as Kanji, while Shambu, Niranj, and Sachin make the rest of the crew memorable.
Jagadish is terrific as Maithreyan, his chemistry with both Sanju and Sreenath adding bite to their exchanges. Rahul Rajagopal turns in yet another strong outing as the corrupt SI Suresh, and Prashanth Alexander (as Bruce Lee) and Vishnu Agasthya (as Pyelakuttan) effortlessly steal every scene they are in. There are also some fun cameos, but no spoilers there!
The women, of course, don’t get as much space as the men. This is clearly not their story, but it is still disappointing given the calibre of the women actors on board. Santhy Balachandran and Zarin Shihab are underwritten, their characters more adornments than participants. Darshana Rajendran, though, makes her limited screen time count. Her turn as Ramani is sharp, commanding, and lingers after the credits roll.
That said, beneath the comedy and comic-book chaos, Sambhavavivaranam Nalara Sangham also carries subtle but sharp political undertones. The series occasionally pauses its manic energy to remind us of the world that shapes the gang — the generational cycles, the social hierarchies, and the urban forces that push them toward crime.
It’s a commentary that sneaks in through cracks in the laughter. Arikuttan’s conversation with his father in jail, musing that his life was almost destined to follow the same path, reinforces this sense of inherited circumstance. The boys grew up being branded as ‘colony vaanams’ — roughly translated to slumdogs — and their desperate attempts at respect and legend-making carry the bittersweet weight of these lives. It’s a life where those who pull their strings profit, while they take the fall.
Where the series slightly falters, if one is to nitpick, is in its pacing and tonality. All episodes stretch close to an hour, and while each is packed with incidents, the length occasionally makes the narrative feel uneven.
Still, none of it is ever dull. Varkey and Sooraj Santhosh’s music and Prasanth Menon’s sound design give the scenes pulse, while Vishnu Prabhakar’s cinematography frames ‘Thiruvanchipuram’ with a comic-book vibrancy. Splashes of colour and stylised angles make the city feel both lived-in, and larger than life.
Overall, Sambhavavivaranam Nalara Sangham may not be flawless, but it’s original, unafraid to be absurd, and powered by an ensemble that throws itself into madness. Streaming now on Sony LIV, it’s a wickedly entertaining ride — equal parts crime, comedy, and character-driven chaos.
Disclaimer: This review was not paid for or commissioned by anyone associated with the film. Neither TNM nor any of its reviewers have any sort of business relationship with the film’s producers or any other members of its cast and crew.