Rahul Desai
The scale and ambition of Lootere are hard to resist. The eight-episode series is an excessive but potent marriage of two distinct genres. It is defined by the irony of the blue ocean looking calmer than its brown and fire-yellow surroundings.
Like Scam 1992, the show doesn’t glorify a murky man like Vikrant, nor does it empathise with him. What it does is empathise with his truth: Vik believes that he is right, that he’s taking the right decisions, and it’s all that matters.
The little details add commentary and texture to Lootere. For instance, the ship engineer is a Pakistani man named Zafar – and he is convinced that the Indians, especially Captain Singh, hold an invisible grudge against him.
Lootere is driven by an excellent cast. There’s not a false note, even when the writing gets greedy. The pirates, many of whom are played by South African actors, rarely let the awkwardness of conversing in English – not in Somali or Arabic – become a distraction.
A lot of the dialogue is cleverly designed. It’s a neat dance between the natural and the flowery. For example, take the track of the debauched heir (Chandan Roy Sanyal) in Kyiv with major daddy issues.
Does the series go overboard with its gore and assaults (specifically the fate of the women on the ship)? Probably. Are some moments provocative for the heck of it? Nearly. But Lootere is also a rare case of music becoming both a creative and technical tool.