Riz Ahmed’s Bait reimagines the spy thriller through a desi lens

LONDON: Riz Ahmed’s new Amazon Prime show Bait released last week to critical acclaim. It tells the story of a young, struggling Pakistani-British actor, Shahjehan, whose name literally translates to “king of the world.” Despite the regality of his title, Shahjehan is always ironically one step behind in his goal to play the iconic James Bond 007.

His desire to play a character traditionally portrayed by white British actors reflects the struggle for assimilation in Hollywood. He is often humorously mistaken for another South Asian actor, Dev Patel.

Shahjehan’s pursuit of the role is driven by the trauma of being an immigrant; he carries both psychological and physical scars from his life in the West. Consequently, his desire alienates him, highlighting the price one pays for assimilation in a predominantly white culture. It is only after repairing his relationship with his family and confronting his traumatic past that he finally secures the role.

However, his eventual win comes with a twist: the hero disavows the archetypal James Bond representation. Bait resists assimilation by inventing a new character and crafting an alternative narrative for the traditionally marginalized South Asian diaspora.

Despite having a name that blends the legacy of a Mughal emperor and a Sufi poet, Shahjehan Latif (often called Shah) is essentially a nobody. He is not white enough to be fully British, nor does he speak Urdu well enough to act alongside Mahira Khan, as his father, played by Sajid Hasan, jibes.

Once a recipient of the Rising Star Award, Shah is now in debt and even considers selling his award watch. His acting process is peculiarly eccentric—he converses with a pig’s head thrown into his house by racist trolls, carrying it around like a secret badge of honor.

Overall, Shahjehan is the perfect spy-thriller protagonist: flawed, traumatized, morally ambiguous, transgressive, yet deeply humane and purposeful.

In Hollywood and mainstream British cinema, South Asian representation has largely been reduced to romanticized or monstrous figures. Only two South Asians have appeared in Bond films: British-Indian actor Zaheera, who played a brief role in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969), and Lahore-born Indian actor Kabir Bedi, the silent servant of a villain in Octopussy (1983). Shah’s ambition to play Bond represents a claim to visibility and redefinition of South Asian identity on screen.

As a British South Asian, the opportunity allows him to assert: this is also what being British looks like. It simultaneously promises overnight stardom, social status, and financial stability. Shah envisions changing perceptions of his community, encouraging respect instead of enduring racial slurs like “Paki,” common in the United Kingdom.

Alienation is a constant companion as he attempts to assimilate into white culture. His family dismisses him for being shorter than previous Bonds. His ex-girlfriend mocks his use of a “white filter” on his IMDb profile picture. He exists metaphorically stranded, attempting to build bridges between cultures.

Spatially, Shah inhabits liminal spaces: dressing rooms, streets, nightclubs, airports, and garages. At times, he evokes the ghostly yet comical presence of Naipaul’s mimic men in London; at others, he is pursued by his stoic James Bond alter ego in a satirical espionage style.

As the series progresses, his desperation intensifies, and his estrangement deepens. During an Eid episode, he experiences physical and emotional distance from his family. While everyone celebrates, he searches for an empty room to record an apology video for a fan whose arm he accidentally fractured.

In the fifth episode, after a night of aimless wandering and failed attempts to reconnect with his ex, he enters his parents’ house to find it empty. He concocts a story about local terrorists kidnapping his family, only to discover them later at the hospital.

Following a series of absurd events and overcoming his alienation, Shah aces the audition. He is no longer threatened by his alter ego, having repaired family bonds and reconciled with his childhood trauma.

In the final scene, he disregards Bond’s trademark introduction: “The name is Bond… James Bond.” Instead, he looks at the audience and declares, “The name is… Shahjehan.” As African American feminist scholar bell hooks would suggest, this gaze is not merely resistance—it is the creation of an alternative narrative, presenting Shahjehan as a desi James Bond.

This provides new possibilities and avenues of representation for his community. For South Asians, Shahjehan’s creation is a call to develop characters and visuals independent of colonial imitation. Imitations demand assimilation and erasure of self. Since Partition, Pakistani cinema has often chased Hollywood’s technical finesse or Iranian cinema’s artistry, instead of creating uniquely authentic representations.

By producing Bait, Ahmed joins a distinct group of contemporary filmmakers—Jean Pierre Bekolo (Aristotle’s Plot), Jordan Peele (Get Out, Nope), Boots Riley (Sorry to Bother You), and Cord Jefferson (American Fiction)—who confront racial representation politics. These creators empower people of color by providing alternative ways of being on screen, resisting assimilation, and challenging colonial legacies.