Bait review: Riz Ahmeds comedy series has us shaken, stirred, the whole lot

Riz Ahmed's Bait will hook you from its first scene, with the pop culture lure of all lures. You've probably had the conversation: Who'll play the next James Bond? And how many times has that conversation leaned toward white actors? 

It's this recognisable jumping-off point that Riz Ahmed, with co-writers Prashanth Venkataramanujam (Patriot Act with Hasan Minhaj), Azam Mahmood (Ramy), and Karen Joseph Adcock (The Bear), and directors Bassam Tariq (Mogul Mowgli), and Tom George (This Country), use to explore representation in the entertainment industry, the press, and the court of public opinion, through one British Pakistani actor's experience.

In six, 30-minute episodes, the Oscar winner's new Prime Video series manages to craft a sharp, absurd, and moving satire that asks important questions about identity and ambition for actors of colour, with a sublime cast, impeccable soundtrack, and enough crash zooms for a lifetime.

What is Bait about?

Struggling actor Shah Latif (Ahmed) auditions for one the most coveted (and betted on) roles out there: James Bond. However, when his audition doesn't go as well as he'd hoped, he seizes the opportunity to start rumours about his potential casting through the press — and the effects are chaotic.

Everyone has an opinion on Shah as the Bond rumour mill goes wild. Who should play James Bond, and could it be an actor who isn't white? A wave of online hate cascades into Shah's life, one that becomes dangerously real through an anti-Muslim hate crime directed at his family home. His family's Eid al-Fitr celebrations are disrupted with the need for amped-up security. However, he's still told to suck it up. "You've just got to stay grateful," says Shah's professional "rival" Raj Thakker (a brilliant Himesh Patel), a British Indian actor also rumored in the running to play Bond. "A bit of hate's a small price to pay."

But is this opportunity really one at all for Shah? In an opinion piece for an outlet within the show's universe, writer (and Shah's ex) Yasmin Khan (the ever-talented Ritu Arya) calls Bond "an icon of the white establishment" and accuses Shah of being "a long line of brown men who think that becoming our oppressor is somehow liberating all of us."

"The question is not if any Muslim man is fit to play James Bond. The question is, is James Bond worthy of a Muslim man representing him?" she writes. "The essence of Islam is built on community, family, charity, peace, and obedience. What does a vigilante double agent know of the unique social structure inherent to so many brown communities?"

Over four days, Shah finds himself under mounting pressure due to the 007 rumors. He's navigating the expectations of his family, his tempestuous relationship with his ex, people confusing him for Dev Patel, and the realities of becoming the respected A-lister he dreams of being. Here, Bait raises critical questions about identity, ambition, and portrayals of ethnic minorities onscreen. (Offscreen, Amhed has long written about challenging stereotypes in roles, even speaking about representation in British Parliament.) In a constant state of anxiety, Shah code-switches and reframes himself, insisting that "it's nice even just to have the opportunity, it's a big deal, a brown James Bond." Shah distances himself from protesters at a museum gala, demonstrating against its colonial legacy, after which he's told he's "sold out" — "It's not the image I'm going for right now," Shah tells Zulfi (Guz Khan).

Shah's fear of failure dominates his fractured sense of self. He believes himself a "nobody," and "a shame to your family," based on messing up one audition. (Charlie Brinkhurst-Cuff writes about this pressure to perform in her essay for gal-dem's "I Will Not be Erased": Our Stories about Growing Up as People of Colour, writing of a dance audition, "Failing the audition meant that dance suddenly became associated with lots of negative emotions which ended up feeding into my insecurities about my race, my body, and the way I looked.") The thing is, Shah genuinely smashes his audition out of the park, despite the corny, laconic James Bond-style dialogue. However, the one line that trips him up, every single time? "When it's just you, by yourself, how do you live with yourself? Do you even know who you are?"

Bait's cast is pure fire, led by an impeccable Riz Ahmed.

As Shah, Ahmed really pushes himself to the brink in Bait, through deadpan comedic stylings to romantic yearning and wholehearted drama. As Shah loses his sense of control, of his identity, and of who exactly people demand him to be, Ahmed brings his characteristic intensity and finesse to each stage, almost staring at the audience with his Bond lines in mind: "I don’t live with myself; I live with whoever you need me to be."

Khan near steals the show as Shah's hilarious, no-filter cousin Zulfi, on a quest to build his fleet of Muba ("Muslim Uber") drivers when he's not keeping Shah real. Arya is magnetic as Shah's ex Yasmin (honestly, who could get over Yasmin?) as she brutally calls out Shah's performative ways.

Sheeba Chaddha hits every note as Shah's mother Tahira, whose competition with the glamorous Naila (a fantastic Soni Razdan) is a fun through-line, and Sajid Hasan enjoys one-liners from his recliner as Shah's father Parvez. Aasiya Shah (We Might Regret This) is deadpan brilliance as Shah's cousin Q, while Weruche Opia (I May Destroy You) is hilarious as Shah's long-suffering agent Felicia.

And they're all brilliantly framed by Bait's exquisite production design.

Bait leans into surrealism, '60s cinematography, and a banger soundtrack

One particularly surreal narrative device is a recurring podcast-recording scenario where Shah unpacks his anxieties across from a frozen pig's head that speaks with the voice of Sir Patrick Stewart (and yes, it is really the voice of Sir Patrick Stewart). Shah's inner saboteur finds its way out of the freezer and into brutal conversations with himself in an example of self-flagellation of the most raw and unrelenting nature. However, this level of absurdity only matches that of Shah's daily experience, in the same way Adjani Salmon deploys magical realism in the superb Dreaming Whilst Black.

Bait is also a technical marvel, with directors of photography Frank Lamm and Dan Atherton moving between shots that convey these states of realism or absurdity. Often, a handheld or mounted camera follows the actors up close, rendering their conversations fluid and intimate. Other times, the cinematography leans into crash zooms that amp up the drama and pay homage to '60s and '70s Indian and Pakistani cinema. A glorious sequence in episode 3 sees Shah's family "rival" Salim (a superb appearance from Kaos' Nabhaan Rizwan) releasing doves, performing a perfect gymnastics routine, and quite literally walking on water. And episode 4, a highlight of the series, is a Studio-style one-shot moment amid London's buzzing Brick Lane. It's a constant dance between reality, paranoia, and imaginative dread as Shah tries to keep his head above the waves.

However, there's nothing absurd about Bait's soundtrack, a veritable treasure trove of South Asian and British gems across the decades, from legendary Pakistani playback singer Naheed Akhtar, '70s hypnotic Qawwali from the Sabri Brothers, '80s disco from British Pakistani new wave duo Nermin Niazi and Feisal Mosleh, '90s English drum and bass by Origin Unknown, and recent tracks by British singer Jorja Smith, British producers Sevaqk and Troyboi and Indian singer Amrit Maan. And it's all embroidered with composer Shruti Kumar's booming score.

Bait is one of the most surreal, important, hilarious, and moving shows I've seen for a while, as Ahmed aims to leave audiences shaken and stirred.

Bait premieres March 25 on Prime Video, with all six episodes available at once.