Kaiser (2022) S01

Kaiser. A homicide detective who is scared of blood? Discover many other quirks of Detective Kaiser Chowdhury as he investigates a double murder which turns out to be a lot more. 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.  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 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.