What does it take to be James Bond?
That is the pivotal question that rapper-turned-struggling-British-Pakistani-actor Shahjehan “Shah” Latif (Riz Ahmed) grapples with in “Bait” as he lands the audition of a lifetime. A six-episode miniseries created, produced by and starring Ahmed, “Bait” takes what viewers can only imagine is a lot of inspiration from Ahmed’s own life, as he has been in recurring conversations to play Bond since 2017, as many British actors of a similar age. Over the course of this period, the casting of a new Bond — or lack thereof — has become Hollywood’s hottest potato, with the rumor mill churning out a different prediction for “the next Bond” every few months. In that time period, Ahmed has cemented himself as a British-Pakistani powerhouse, gaining both Oscar and Emmy wins. More importantly, Ahmed has successfully built a network to uplift and spotlight the latest and greatest British South Asian talent, irrevocably changing the British film industry.
Amidst this, the conversation around the next Bond has evolved not into a discourse of who gets to carry on the franchise, but who gets to own the name that has become synonymous with British identity. Hence, “Bait” is not just a humorous take on Ahmed’s life, but a show that proudly and bravely argues that South Asians belong in Britain.
Starting with Shah Latif’s crucial audition for Bond unravelling as he forgets his lines, “Bait” thrusts viewers into a four-day fantastical ride into Shah’s life as he fights to redo his audition. At the same time, Shah must balance a complex tangle of familial and community relationships during Eid, the busiest time of his year as all the British-Pakistani families compete to outdo each other. His situation is further complicated when news of Shah’s audition is leaked by Shah himself as a bid to strengthen his chance of a second audition, which results in racist and vitriolic hate crimes toward his family and discourse on whether James Bond can or even should be South Asian.
Reminiscent of other recent South Asian hits such as “Polite Society” and “Monkey Man,” the show takes on an absurd, action-packed and always-funny tone as Shah’s life becomes a metaphor to dissect the real-life British media industry, from James Bond being called a “neocolonial mouthpiece” to Shah attending a contentious gala for a British museum’s unveiling of “borrowed” treasures from the Global South. The striking parallels to real-life events give the show an edge in the sociopolitical commentary it strives to deliver, amplified by Ahmed’s personal touch to its realism. Ahmed can speak about it because he’s lived through it.
However, the show’s best moments come not from its autobiographical elements, but from the obviously untrue ones that serve to dig deep into the psyche of the often narcissistic, impassioned and maybe even schizophrenic Shah. One of the central throughlines is Shah’s imagined conversations with a severed pig head (voiced by Patrick Stewart) that he acquires from a racist hate crime of which he is a victim. In one memorable moment, Shah accidentally leaves it outside a mosque on Eid. The absurdity of a Muslim carrying around and drawing comfort from a pig’s head has never been more prevalent and ironic. The moment perfectly encapsulates the show’s dark, bold and punchy humor. The series finale takes a similar farcical tone as Shah dreams of a situation where he is forced to shoot every member of his family, a symbolic spin on Shah’s complicated feelings toward them.
These exaggerated moments help viewers not only understand Shah, but also the complex emotions surrounding British-Pakistani identity. Shah’s soliloquies to the pig unearth Shah’s immense self-loathing, a result of the extreme and violent bullying he faced due to his identity combined with his family’s well-intentioned yet hurtful digs at Shah’s acting aspirations. Immigrant guilt, shame and suffering all rise to the surface, becoming the show’s emotional anchor.
At the heart of the show is Ahmed’s obvious love for British South Asian art and culture, from the locations to the soundtrack to the ensemble cast to the memorable cameos. However, even for a show created by Ahmed and based on his life, it could do with a little less Ahmed. The standout performances of the ensemble cast, particularly Shah’s cousin, Zulfi (the loveable and brilliantly funny Guz Khan), and his mother, Tahira (played by veteran actress and longtime Ahmed-collaborator Sheeba Chaddha), hold the show together in its weakest moments. Since the show tries to tackle so much, the storyline can feel disconnected at times, as every minute takes viewers in an unexpected direction that would be impossible to believe if it weren’t for the authenticity the larger cast brings.
Regardless, “Bait” successfully manages to be both a love letter to and dismantling of British-Pakistani identity, wrapped in an entertaining Bond-esque thriller-comedy that is constantly switching gears. If nothing else, hopefully “Bait” at least convinces you of Ahmed’s potential to say “The name’s Bond, James Bond.” Because, honestly, what has the fictional MI6 agent done that a West London Pakistani family couldn’t do?
