Miles from Nowhere follows a young wannabe singer-songwriter Said.
OPINION
Miles from Nowhere takes you into our Muslim community and an SIS investigation with grounded realism and dark humour.
Domestic terrorism is hardly a subject that gets people rolling in the aisles. But the new local comedy Miles from Nowhere uses the myriad feelings that phrase evokes and uses them to show a side of Aotearoa rarely seen on our screens.
While the show, which is screening on Sky Open and streaming on Neon, is pitched as a comedy it’s firmly a dramedy. The use of humour softens the pointed commentary on the issues and attitudes faced by New Zealand’s Muslim community but, in the opening episodes, at least the show doesn’t feature any true laugh-out-loud moments.
It does reach for them. There’s the odd, ill-advised, over-the-top, sitcom-level character or hammy performance. Fortunately, they’re rare. Generally, the show operates within a grounded realism of both Muslim and Kiwi culture.
So, it’s unfortunate that the series opens in a comedically exaggerated fashion that could see people reaching for their remotes before it properly kicks off. But when it gets under way it’s like awakening from a bad dream.
Its more grounded humour is relatable and recognisable, and the show moves fast to set up the pieces and get you into the halal meat of its story quickly.
Miles from Nowhere follows a young man named Said, an unemployed, wannabe singer-songwriter who’s living with his mother and licking his wounds after his fiancee broke up with him two weeks before their wedding.
He’s dragging himself out of bed for daily prayer at the mosque and reading the community notices. It’s during this that his pal jumps up to promote the mosque’s upcoming fundraising sausage sizzle. Said’s mate gets fairly carried away and his passionate anti-war speech sees him calling for jihad against the war in Syria. An unfortunate turn of phrase even if his heart was in the right place.
A recording of his cheerful sales pitch finds its way online where he becomes a viral sensation, for the wrong reasons. With people fearing a terrorist attack is being planned, Islamophobia grips the nation and a ton of heat comes down on the mosque.
Even though he doesn’t feature in the video Said finds himself under SIS surveillance when his song lyrics are mistaken for a manifesto. The confusion is explainable as his heartbroken lyrics include phrases like “I’m becoming radicalised” and “wanting to blow it all up”.
Of course, no intelligence officer worth their badge would buy that story and the two assigned to him don’t. At first, anyway. When asked to perform the song to prove his story, one of the officers unexpectedly finds himself a fan of the young man’s talent. From there, an unlikely friendship slowly forms as Said finds a father figure in Gabe who encourages him to come out of his shell and chase his dream.
Of course, it could all be a long-game ruse on Gabe’s part to gain trust and get closer to his target. At this early stage of the series, Gabe’s sincerity remains opaque.
On top of that, Said is distinctly not over his ex who he continually sees at the mosque. He may not have moved on, but she certainly has.
So, there’s a lot going on within the confines of this half-hour show. It’s a credit to its creator/writer Mohamed Hassan that it all pulls together so organically. Hassan is an award-winning journalist, author and poet and his move into television proves as successful as his other endeavours.
Miles from Nowhere is set before the Christchurch Masjid Attacks in 2019, and is based on Hassan’s experience as an “other” in his home country. At the show’s best, its commentary on the issues and suspicions faced by New Zealand’s Muslim community are softened with a chill humour.
With its unique blend of comedy, relationship drama and cultural tension, not to mention the representation of an often-overlooked segment of New Zealand society, Miles from Nowhere deserves your attention. It does a grand job of both entertaining and proving that, despite the cultural differences, they are us.