Ahmeds

Riz Ahmed has created and stars in a marvelous new series, “Bait,” premiering Wednesday on Prime Video. There are no worms in it, though viral video plays a part, and fame — the pursuit of which is a subject — is a lure.

But what’s in a name? A comedy by any other name would be as funny — if it was funny, and this one very much is, in a way that’s crazy and serious and human, built around a character in crisis who refuses to believe his life is out of control and is so invested in putting up a front that he’s begun to believe his own lies. Almost. It’s a series in which hallucinations, dreams, magical realism and memories, which punctuate and interfere with the “normal” business of the story, all amount the same thing, and in which the style of the filming shifts with the action.

Ahmad plays Shah Latif, a British Pakistani actor, who, owing to the exertions of his faithful, often frustrated agent, Felicia (Weruche Opia), is improbably auditioning to be the next James Bond. But he repeatedly forgets his line when his scene partner, a girl with a gun, asks, “Tell me, when it’s just you all alone, how do you live with yourself? Do you even know who you are?” establishing a theme. (The line he can’t recall: “I don’t live with myself, I live with whoever you need me to be.” Spies and actors!)

Leaving the audition, he contrives to be photographed by one of the paparazzi lurking outside, sniffing for a Bond scoop; his picture is published, which creates a stir and some racist blowback, culminating in a package thrown through the front window of his parents’ home. (It is not a window that opens.) What’s inside the package I’ll leave for you to discover, but it will play a part through the rest of the show.

The recurring question of who will be the next James Bond generates a lot of pop cultural heat in our world; just type “next James Bond” into your search engine of choice. At one point, you may recall, Idris Elba was regularly bruited as a potential 007, which occasioned enough anti-Black reaction that he officially took himself out of the unofficial running. It may have been on Ahmed’s mind here — Shah claims high purpose for his Bondean aspirations, that he wants “to show them that this too is what British looks like.”

On the one hand, Shah has had enough of a career to have been made into a “limited edition collectible action figure,” starred in a well-regarded but underseen small film, played “the translator in ‘Homeland’ series seven” and earned a rising star award from some French festival; on the other, he is, professionally speaking, no Idris Elba — not a nobody, but not too many rungs above it. (He’s not Dev Patel, either, with whom he’s repeatedly confused.)

At the top of the second episode, Shah is seemingly being interviewed on a podcast, “Sir Chatwick Stewart, with me, Sir Patrick Stewart” — played by the man himself, whom we hear but never see — about his ambitions, though it’s soon clear that Stewart is a mental projection, an inner critic and inquisitor. He’ll stick around through the series, offering barbed commentary and something like support: “If I humiliate you, it’s to save you from the bigger humiliation of remaining as you are.”

As a protagonist continually getting in his own way, Shah is a classic sort of comic character. He creates opportunities only to squander them; finds himself voiceless after forcing himself onstage at a black-tie gala or in an underground club (he was once a politically provocative MC). After a newsworthy mishap, his agent advises him to lie low, which is impossible for him to do; there is no itch he won’t scratch, and no good advice he’ll actually follow. Apart from a rival actor (Himesh Patel) he’s a protagonist without antagonists, excepting himself. He’s insufficiently grateful to the people he owes, and insufficiently apologetic to those he’s wronged.

Shah’s self-involvement will be challenged by ex-girlfriend Yasmin (Ritu Arya), encountered first by accident, then sought out — a writer, she has published an op-ed headlined, “No, Shah Latif, We Don’t Need a Brown Bond” — in which she accuses him of “exchanging his political art for vanilla distraction.” His family, whom he neglects to visit for months, includes warm-hearted cousin Zulfi (Guz Khan), who has started a Muslim ride share company; a no-nonsense sister (Aasiya Shah) — the name of her character is rendered as “Q” on IMDb and elsewhere, but in the series itself she’s called Ainy — doting mother Tahira (Sheeba Chaddha); and his skeptical father, Parvez (Sajid Hasan), who has not been keeping his doctor appointments and asks Shah, “What do you even do? I watch TV all day — you’re never on it.”

Appropriate to a character who lives for being onscreen, “Bait” plays with the language of film — gritty procedural, a burst of Bollywood, romantic comedy — though not necessarily to the usual ends. Frame-filling titles identify the London neighborhoods where the action takes place — Wembley, Kentish Town, Brick Lane, Ladbroke Grove — as Paris, Moscow and Mexico City might appear in an international thriller. The series is at once satirical and celebratory; “Bait” feels abundant, both in its presentation of a culture, which has the ring of documentary truth, and as a beautifully realized work of art.

Bond can wait.