by Seher Hashmi
The Night Of is a dark, intense telling of a murder mystery scrimmed against the fallout of 9/11 on muslims of Pakistani origin in the USA.
Within a span of a single night, a twenty-something man Nasir Khan who prefers to be called Naz sneaks out in his father’s cab for a late night party in Manhattan and three scenes onwards, finds himself under arrest on the charge of homicide.
Unwittingly, Naz ends up giving a ride to a beautiful white girl who looks wasted asking him to take her to the beach in NY. She chats up with Naz and Naz is smitten too. When offered weeds and aphrodisiacs, he can’t resist. As they cosy up while getting high at her place in an upscale apartment, she indulges in knifeplay and urges him to have his go too. It scares Naz. She is on mollies and ketamine; needs dangerous dares to excite her before sex. Naz is having sex for the second time in his life and LSDs aren’t his things. He looks like someone who will lose his plot after ketamine instead of getting turned on. He gets stoned; next finds her stabbed body lying in bed when he comes to. It is that redacted period of his spacing out which sets the tone for an intriguing murder mystery running into a fight for justice.
Forebodings
From scene 1, the juxtaposition of Naz’s naivete’ and her wanton ways forebodes an untoward twist lurking just around the corner.
‘I can’t be alone tonight.’ , she is fearful. He is out there to have fun.
‘What if you find yourself on the other side one day.’ by the river bank, she says. She has suicidal thoughts. He is humming and singing, off to a night of revelry.
She is thirsty for beer and pops in ketamines without a care. He buys a water bottle for himself.
Interestingly, there is no religious or ethnic friction between them. Both are genuinely attracted to each other. In fact, Andrea snubs a stranger on the road hurling slurs at Naz. And both are going about life the way any regular youth in the USA would. However, this info is exclusive to the viewers only. The law enforcing authorities aren’t in on it.
The pull of the opposites could’ve anticipated a lead-up to a relationship had the turn of events been otherwise. Instead their scenes, reflective of the finesse the plot is handled with, are loaded with dramatic premonitions. The element of her fear, mention of self-annihilation, even the goth look in the eyes of the stuffed stag head in the sombre ambience of her flat and camera shots zooming in on the sharp blades of knives and the act of slicing. And doubling down on a sense of doom is the score; horror and melancholy seem to be drifting free from the long-drawn out violin notes crescendoing with high-pitched piano.
Whodunnit with an Organic Spin
It’s not a generic storyline of a muslim Pakistani charged unthinkingly with a crime because the USA is still suffering from 9/11. Richard Price’s angle is granular and delves deep into human psyche teasing out the conflict from within the interiority of characters beset with the aftermath of 9/11.
Naz’s runner from the murder scene and scuffle with the police resisting arrest mark him the most likely suspect. The surveillance footage, his fingerprints, blood on murder weapon knife and semen on her body all point at him. So much so, alerted by the glasspane Naz smashes, there is a neighbour witness to his dubious scampering in and out of her house: the murder scene. Last nail in the cofin, there are several cuts on his back that he has no idea of. At the precinct, everyone is convinced of his guilt. It looks like a stock situation. Yet the eight-part series sets out to proceed as a complex murder mystery without any drag or a trace of predictability as the story pans out and focuses on the minuscules of the night of and the hidden lives of Naz and Andrea.
Despite looking like an open and shut case, there gathers an aura of reasonable doubt around the identity of the murderer. Richard Price’s skillful shading of an ensamble of intriguing characters layers in suspense and spins the narrative out of the archetypes of murder mystery.
There is something arresting about Naz’s firm and insistent denial and honest account – even it’s wording remians unchanged – of the night of. His demeanour of a nice guy, working class family profile, background of a studious pupil never been in trouble with law arrest the attention of a schlocky, tramp looking lawyer John Stone derided as ‘precinct crawler’ by pricey lawyers from A class chambers and the DA.
Roping in theme of the state of criminal justice in the USA under the strobe light R.Price enlarges the scope of The Night Of. The chief investigator, police officers and the DA collectively represent the gritty, shady side of a system that doesn’t pivot on establishing justice, instead, convicts the accused to save already insufficient government funds. And what’s further clouded the judgement of an otherwise fastidious and shrewd investigator is the haunting memory of 9/11 still fresh in 2014. His paranoid insistence to put Naz who doesn’t own a passport on ECL despite Stone’s objection and baseless linking to ISIS and terrorist networks in Pakistan to substantiate a criminal charge complicate the course of investigation. Lost in the paranoia of 9/11 is the crucial fact that he should’ve looked into in the first place as a veteran investigator: what’s Naz’s motive for committing a crime of such gruesome nature?. He wanted her. She didn’t scorn rather offered him quirky sex. Why to kill then and that too with such brutality? Naz is no psycho nor given to self-harm. No data collected on him suggests seeing a therapist either.The knifeplay literally shudders his whole being. That’s where the toll of 9/11 playing into everyday life comes to light.
What makes The Night Of good television is R.Price’s nuanced treatment of an oft-explored premise. Even the paranoia of 9/11 isn’t shoved down your throat.
Embedded in the plotline without plunging to the hackneyed, it impacts to foreshadow the tragic implications lasting over generations. The DA trusts the charges levelled by the chief and trades off a plea deal for a trial. She doesn’t want to carry the burden of proof. Naz’s guilt or innocence aren’t her concerns at all.
Stone, a seasoned lawyer, feels perplexed to hear that Naz is booked for homicide. Unlike the DA and chief at the precinct, Stone, almost broke, still does business in a humane way. Seeing all the evidence against Naz, he tries his best to downgrade the charges. However, Stone also misses on the lack of a motive for such a violent crime. The viewers can’t help inferring how ethnic and religious profiling mess with better judgement and traverse professional ethics of individuals in a creepy way. Only a young lawyer of Indian origin sees through the smokescreen of bias and paranoia that Naz is not guilty. Print and electronic media vilify Naz – still not proven guilty- and the entire Pakistani community, specially the cab drivers. From homicide to a hate crime of a muslim terrorist read the headlines stoking more hate. His brother is bullied and expelled from school. A Pakistani cab driver gets thrashed by a gang.
It appears as if the entire machinery of the democracy is bent upon convicting and persecuting not only him but also his community.
In this bleak scenario where the system seems to be pitted against Naz and the professional acumen dented with bias, it’s the same system shaken back to life by renewed work ethics that eventually rescues him. It’s Stone’s essential humanity that provides the impetus to a smooth unravelling.
Contested in court, the chief investigator can’t stand a hit at his professional skills. Involuntarily, he starts digging up Andrea’s profile, her whereabouts, movements leading up to the murder. For the first time, somewhere around the last part, the viewers get to know the victim. It’s no brainer why it had never crossed his mind to run a background check on her. Negative profiling and presumption of collective guilt obfuscate facts and cloud DA’s reasoning; she coins an argument working up Naz’religious sentiment during the interrogation. However, Naz’s truthful reply which proves counterproductive to his statement confirming his guilt, works as an eye-opener for her better judgement. The actress displays outstanding skills at this point. Averting eyes, turning away from Naz with slight jerks to her neck , she is eye-to-eye with the horrific implications of tapping into religious sentiments.
Reversal comes, finally, with her refusal to prosecute – an audacious admission of her gross negligence -that saves Naz, saves the day for the American justice system.
Commitment to work ethics, it seems, is the only value that is left to remedy a society reeling from the historical baggage of 9/11.
Naz: Not a 2D Character
Despite his honest mannerism of a working class family and endearing lack of street smartness, Naz is a complex character.
From time to time, he surprises the viewers: he rejects the plea deal recommended even by Stone; appears as a witness before jury upon Chandra’s encouragement. Keeping a low profile, he curbs his anger against police/DA and frustration at mother, records his buddy’s /community’s snitching with a cyptic smile, even finds a way around gangsta life style he’s coerced into at Rikers. Riz Ahmed’s par excellence performance has animated Naz’s silence with superb employment of facial expressions, subtle telling looks in his wide eyes and his gait. The way he walks tells a lot about his vulnerability without compromising his self-respect. It’s not a gangsta walk with brash mannerism. Nor does he grovel or tear up. He walks the walk of an injured bird persevering to get himself back on his feet. There is an assertion of his innocence in his taut body and accusatory glance reflect a conviction to fight pinning hopes on the system that he’s grown up in to set it right.
Naz is sharp, perilously honest, unaware of political correctness, sees past appearance, a loving family man and above all epitomises the core American value ‘keep a stiff upper lip’. The Night Of is a show of characters. Each of them is fleshed out dexterously to assert his individuality in grappling with human condition. Naz’s transformation over the course of the show does not fall into any trite characterization trope. A guiltless-decent-boy-turned-gangster in a cell or a victimised-Pakistani-muslim-metamorphosed-fundo in jail. There is no inkling of retaliatory or reactionary response on his part. He doesn’t develop a sudden fervour for religion either. We don’t see him quoting surahs from the Quran for comfort or allying with the band of muslim inmates. The telling never swerves into the sensational braggadocio stereotype of the genre.
Though he isn’t blind to how 9/11 is foreshadowing his case, to him, it’s an out and out fight to reclaim his dignity as a guilt free citizen. He keeps tabs on his anger, gulps in frustration, downs his disappointment, his hurt and mans up to what has befallen him so out of the blue.
Strokes of Symbolism
What saves the aesthetics of The Night Of from a cliched crime noir are the touches of subtle dramatic techniques and fine strokes of symbolism. Complementing the screenplay with an artistic refiness is the interaction between Andrea’ s abandoned cat and Stone. His back and forth attempts at saving the cat’s life though his eczema gets aggresive around furry creatures pitch in hope. A subtle implications is inserted: the fate of the cat runs prallael to Naz’s guiltlessness on the line.
Implausible Blip
As the arraignment begins, Naz’s mother starts doubting his innocence and declines his call. Did I raise a beast? She spells it out to Chandra, Naz’s lawyer who assures her of Naz’s innocence. Her reckless exit from the court doesn’t go with the ethos of Pakistani society where mothers literally worship their sons no matter how worthy or clumsy they may be. It’s so graituatous and implausible given Naz’s brilliant academic record and work ethics of a responsible sports coach that viewers can’t help doubting if she is a real mother to him.
Naz’s mother is more irritated and piqued than sad and consumed with worries sending duas his way. Naz has noticed his mother’s strange behaviour. After the acquittal, he confronts her and walks away from her. Why should an ordinary stay-home mother be peevish with her son in trouble with law even if she doubts his complicity? She’s not a socialite whose coffee mornings and biryani parties got a severe blow because of the trial. Nor is she any career woman whose work or professional raport suffered in the wake of the prosecution. A normal mother would certainly fight a tooth and nail battle for her son keeping his morale high even if he gets convicted. Even if she were to be depicted as a rigidly upright woman – no scene or action as much as alludes to it – why would she deny him his right to restorative justice afforded even to serial killers?
Her delineation neither aligns with the cultural DNA of her ethnicity nor merits within the scheme of action.
Seher Hashmi is an expat poet/ satirist/ Spoken word artist/ podcaster of Pakistani origin based in Bahrain. Find her on IG @midnitemusings
