When was the last time an original detective series had been set in Bangladesh? “Tin Goyenda” comes to mind. Wildly popular among the 80s and 90s kids, it was largely based on foreign books like “Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators” or “Hardy Boys” and can’t possibly be hailed as “moulik.” Other popular Bangla detective series like “Feluda,” “Byomkesh” or “Kakabau” originate from Kolkata. While “Tin Goyenda” never found a home on any screen, the screen adaptations of these Kolkata ones, other than a couple by Satyajit Ray himself, miss the mark by miles. “Damayanti” deserves an honourable mention here for being nothing short of a fiasco. “Kaiser,” on the other hand, one can safely say, is a welcome exception to this tedious assortment of disappointments.
The story
Kaiser (Afran Nisho) is a famous detective with multiple afflictions- video game addiction, broken relationships- it’s all there in the beautifully cut trailer. When two young girls (Saba played by Aisha Khan and Joya by Tamanna Haque Borna) are murdered in their apartment with no apparent evidence to link a killer, Kaiser is called in to save the day. Following a death threat against the detective, CIS takes over the case, but much like his gaming console, Kaiser can’t seem to detach himself from this mystery where he is already up a few levels. The case leads him down a rabbit hole of drug lords and illicit love affairs that threaten to harm the people he cares for dearly. On his tail are a team of nefarious villains played sensationally by a stunning Imtiaz Barshon, a repulsive avatar of Satabdi Wadud and a zen Sumon Anowar.
The craftsmen
The show is well written (script and dialogues by Ayman Asib Shadhin, story by Abdul Quiyum Leon, Tanim Noor and Ayman Asib Shadhin), and well directed (by Tanim Noor). The pacing (edited by Saleh Sobhan Aunim) is better than Hoichoi’s flagship show, “Taqdeer.” It doesn’t necessarily add anything to the existing practices of storytelling or has any distinctive visual style (cinematography by Abdul Mamun) that would set it apart from other Bangladeshi shows on various streaming platforms. In fact, the series deliberately underpins the familiar tropes in our literature and film with a proud confidence- we’ve loved these archetypes for decades and it’s about time we stopped trying to exclude them from our visual narratives for the sake of being different. If done right, clichés can be just the thing that crosses over to the mass.
Familiar tropes
In the 9-episode series, even with relatively stingy screen time, Naziba’s character exudes a responsible “boro bon” charm that calls to mind many a Humayun Ahmed novel, Swagata’s Kobori a femme fatale straight out of some film noir. Likewise, most of the characters are too familiar, yet it might be the very thing that effectively evokes relatability and even nostalgia in the audience.
'Tin Goyenda'
One aspect that undoubtedly will make any millennial nostalgic is the continuous reference of “Tin Goyenda.” The beloved teenage detectives- Kishore Pasha, Robin Milford and Musa Aman inspired a generation to create their own little detective trios. Here Kaiser was Kishore (even the names are similar), Amlan (Mostafizur Noor Imran) Robin and Tonmoy (Shangkha Zaman) Musa. Kaiser's ex-wife and childhood friend Shirin (Reekita Nondini Shimu) might have been the Georgina Parker in the group, but the show cleverly left that out as too much dependence on the detective books would take the spotlight away from Kaiser, unduly illuminating his best friends instead. There was indeed a time where it wasn’t uncommon for readers to attempt to write fan fiction of the series. However, we can’t be certain whether that was the original inspiration for the writing duo here.
Girl power
It has strong female characters at the centre. There’s even a hint of a homoerotic undertone between the interactions of two of the women from early on. Shirin is a complex character who married Kaiser’s best friend after their divorce and seems to still care deeply for him. The three remain close, bickering at the slightest provocation. Here’s where Kaiser’s pre-teen daughter (Mugdhota Morshed Wriddhi) ends up being the adult in the family doing her best to hold the fort. Deepanwita Martin’s nonchalant acting style was compensated for by a character arc that surpasses the token female detective parable, shining so bright at one point that the men in the police department and Ahmed Rubel’s minions end up looking like extras.
Political criticism
There is social commentary all over the series, hiding in plain sight. The fact that the parents of the deceased concealed crucial information from the police fearing judgement and backlash, not only shows how far people would go to protect their “honour,” but also mirrors our tendency to dissect any victim’s (more so in the case of women) personal liberties to slander them, unwittingly empowering the perpetrators.
More drugs and murder?
The reign of streaming services in the last two years has yielded many thrillers with similar through-lines. It is high time to ask ourselves, what is driving so many of our shows towards murder and drugs? Hoichoi’s latest release before this, “Refugee,” also revolved around drug peddling. If we didn’t know any better, OTTs would have us believe we have a drug problem similar to Colombia, even though no Pablo Escobar ever terrorised our lands.
Some random thoughts:
- The investigative journalist
If a journalist is watching this series, Amlan might take them out of the story either for the improbability of any journo in Dhaka having the luxury of chasing a story like that or out of sheer envy for not being able to work in “Purbo Poshchim.”
- It’s Kai-zar, not Kay-sar
The name Kaiser, at least how it is pronounced here, is one most people haven’t ever come across. The literal meaning of the word is “emperor” in German, which is why the director was very particular about this name and its delivery, long before he had any inkling about the story. However, the audiences keep referring to him as Kay-sar. Sorry, Tanim. Maybe by Season 2, people will warm up to this intonation.
- Theme song
The graphics of the intro has a “Stranger Things” vibe to it reinforcing the element of nostalgia. The theme song itself, “Eden” by Arekta Rock Band, stands out with its impressive composition. It takes time to decipher whether the lyrics is in English or Bangla, but the effort surely goes in vain because it's unintelligible either ways.
Lastly, Nisho is love
Last, but not the least, Afran Nisho’s acting afforded the series several level ups. The video game addiction adds a contemporary dimension we haven’t yet seen on screen here, at least not prominently. Kaiser’s toxic masculinity in nearly all of his personal relations, including those with his ex-wife and his best friends, seeped through the screen, making it hard to watch at times without flinching. This is one trope we could have evolved from by now. All the memorable dialogues and punchlines in the series were given to this gifted actor. Like the time he tells Shirin that, as a kid, he used to wait for her to come out of the house so he could get a glimpse of her, yet when they got married, he waited for her to get out of the house so he could play video games by himself. “When did one cycle of waiting change into another?”- ponderous dialogues such as these anchors the story in profound human emotions. Ergo, “Kaiser” supersedes the confines of one genre and transcends into universality.
“Kaiser” is streaming on Hoichoi from July 8.
The writer is a film critic, screenwriter and the Showtime Editor of Dhaka Tribune
