A Not So Satisfying Lunch

It is difficult to review a film that has already been much written about and talked about, more so after it lost out in the race for the Indian Oscars entry to The Good Road.

So why would The Lunchbox have made a better bet for the Oscars than Good Road? Tough to say unless I watch Good Road, which is yet to release commercially. But a comparison is not the point of this review; the point is why is Lunchbox getting all the attention.

For the first time, in a long time, perhaps, has come a movie that is mounted simply, shot simply, and most important, told simply. This is not a film that will shake you up; you won’t go home emotionally wrought, or abusive at the waste of your time. But you won’t leave indifferent either.

It works almost like that breed of movies that Indian filmmakers no longer seem to make; like a Sari Paranjape film peopled with somewhat quirky but very identifiable middle-class characters. Who makes movies about the middle class nowadays?

Like Paranjape’s films, the humour is a constant and uplifting presence in Ritesh Batra’s debut feature film. Lunchbox wouldn’t have been half the movie it is without the wit.

Lunchbox is a simple tale of simple people, simply told, without any camera flourish, arresting music or even any dramatic (as in vivid) moments. These are its very strengths, and yet somewhere in there lie the film’s shortfall. I wish the young wife Ila (played by Nimrat Kaur) had confronted or tried to confront her indifferent husband Rajiv (Nakul Vaid). I wish Ila had exchanged some angry notes with her elderly well-wisher Saajan Fernandes (Irrfan Khan). A little outburst wouldn’t have been out of place.

Another presupposed premise of Lunchbox is its use of the old fashioned letter in the age of cellphone/emails (mentioned by the character Shaikh, played by Nawazuddin Siddiqi). One can’t help but wonder why Saajan and Ila couldn’t exchange mobile numbers. And the film’s very pivot is a blunder by the very efficient Dabbawallahs of Mumbai – a sacrilege when it comes to the time-tested and well-oiled machinery that the food deliverers operate.

None of this, however, takes away from the delightful spread the Lunchbox is. Foremost is Nimrat, the acting discovery of the decade. For an actor we knew better as the Cadbury Dairy Milk Silk model who does the sweet and sexy lick-lick, Nimrat is the star (don’t read the Bollywood meaning) around which planet Irrfan and satellite Nawazuddin rotate. Any actor who can emote the way she does in the numerous full-face close-ups (with the camera inches away from the face) can’t but be extraordinary. I hope to see Nimrat a lot more in the coming days.

Irrfan is just right as the widowed and lonely accountant Mr Fernandes. As his putative successor Shaikh, Nawazuddin is a delight to watch. His role recalls his performance in Dibakar Banerjee’s film from Bombay Talkies.

More striking perhaps is the soundtrack (music by Max Richter). The Mumbai suburban train’s clattering rhythm has been used almost like background music. The humorous use of the song, Mera dil bhi kitna pagal hai, from the hit movie Saajan (note the parallel?) is another delight. And the constant refrain of the Dabbawallahs’ song is a master touch.

 
If typical Bollywood fare is not your idea of satisfying entertainment, then The Lunchbox is a movie worth your time. It deserves an 8 on 10. Do watch it.