Amazon Prime Video’s latest Telugu series, Isakapatnam, places Samuthirakani in a world that isn’t unfamiliar to the actor. The seasoned Tamil actor-director plays Naidu, a powerful mob man who reigns unopposed in a port town, not too different from the gangsters breeding on the Kasimedu fishing harbour in Vetri Maaran’s Vada Chennai, of which he was a part. Stories set on the periphery of the sea, despite the familiarity of crime dramas unfolding in harbours, possess an energy that inevitably pulls us in. Isakapatnam is whistling with that energy when we tune in. But it also subsides just as quickly.
Samuthirakani’s character of Naidu is an amalgamation of a lot of kingpins we’ve seen; he lusts after power moments after he reaches the shore of Isakapatnam in the 80s, and looks into the void of the sea seeing an unending amount of money. Naidu will go to any extent to get what he wants, and he does this by doing the unspeakable at the yearly temple festival, fraying the relationships between two fishing communities and forcefully taking what he wants. Samuthirakani plays the part effectively, but a lot of Naidu’s traits remain mechanical and aren't supported by the groundwork in writing.
We go from learning about his ascent to power one moment to his consequent struggle to retain the power the next. The writing in these portions isn’t just rushed but seems to be frantically going through a steady checklist of mob men ideals. Naidu keeps gushing about what power means to him, but by the end of the seven-episode ordeal, we’re still unsure why he yearns for it so much.
Meanwhile, Aishwarya Rajesh plays Bharathi, his estranged daughter, whose strategy is to fight his brawn with brain. Rajesh is perfect as the social activist, depicting a complex mix of blend of resentment and yearning for an absent father. But when we learn that Naidu’s rejection of his daughter stems from misogyny and not indifference, it’s too late for this to make any difference to our reading of the show.
The scenes between Naidu and Bharathi needed to be much stronger for the concept to work, but we barely get any scenes between the two compelling actors. There’s one person Naidu trusts much more than anyone in his family, and that is his accountant and personal aide, Kottaiah. When Naidu asks his friend why he hasn’t betrayed him yet, pointing to a pattern of distrust in the town, Kottaiah has a sharp rejoinder: “You might be a lion to a lot of people, but to me you’re a golden goose.” Why would anyone kill a golden goose? It’s hard to see a flaw in that argument.
The series should have been built around such moments, but they are frustratingly rare. The immensely talented Sunil, cast as the inspector tasked with cleaning up the town’s mess, is wasted in a role that is as powerless as the cop he plays. Similarly, Naresh Agastya impresses as Pedanna, an auto driver who carries his anger and high moral ground on his sleeves.
But Isakapatnam doesn't facilitate any real sort of development in the writing to make these characters come alive. The series ends with a cliffhanger and a twist that comes a bit too late, telling us to a stove away our thoughts and concerns for later.