Lunchbox Reviews - Page 5

One of my favourite parts in The Lunchbox is when a character buys himself a painting. No, sorry, scratch that; it is when a character narrates how and why he bought a painting.

It is a street-side purchase of a street-side scene: an artist at a scenic vantage point draws the same backdrop over and over again, but with varied details each time, his mental snapshot making each picture a wholly different capsule of captured time. It is here that Mr Fernandez spots a likeness of himself, as a part of the throng " not that unlikely an occurrence, given that he has walked that stretch nearly every day for decades and decades. Usually a reticent man, he allows himself this rare moment of vanity and buys the painting. And then he tells " or, indeed, confesses " all of this to a stranger.

There is so much to love here " Mr Fernandez's discovery; the uncharacteristic puffing up of his chest; the need to boast about what is not an accomplishment but feels certainly like a triumph " that this short, beautiful tale of an accidental portrait could well turn into a film all its own. And yet in Ritesh Batra's film, this is but a throwaway scrap of a very special conversation. The film assuredly glides past this gem instead of dwelling on it, and, in the process, enriches its own narrative.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is how good The Lunchbox is, and how honest its storytelling rings. Ritesh Batra's film " about a city and serendipity " might be about unremarkable folk, but it is a masterfully made and diligently restrained effort, one that impresses a viewer without impressing upon a viewer. It is a simple story with unanimous appeal, told with unshowy efficacy, and yet The Lunchbox is the most fascinating film to come out of Bombay in a very, very long time. In many ways " not least because it is an astonishing directorial debut " The Lunchbox is this generation's Masoom.

The Bombay dabbawala is a miracle, a human cog with clockwork precision who operates, it seems, well outside Bombay's haphazard universe, and yet fuels the mercenaries shovelling coal into the city's ever-open maw. The Lunchboxbegins with a dabbawala getting it wrong, odds of which happen to be one in six million. But then this is a film about happenstance, a wondrous what-if movie that lifts us from overrated realism to a far better place, and it's only fair that " in ways unique to itself " the city conspires, throughout the film, to set these events into motion, to champion this unlikely romance, to give us hope. For Bombay has always motored along on magic.

Thus, one fine afternoon, the city mistakes a widower for a husband and delivers him lunch. Lunch a wife laboured over, with much fondness and desperation, keen to surprise and amaze and seduce. The meal licked clean, the steel tiffin-box returns home atypically empty. And when the widower discovers that the neighbourhood eatery hasn't suddenly upped its game, and the wife discovers her husband hasn't even missed her cooking, the two strike up a correspondence.

The parallels with The Shop Around The Corner (and its cinematic granddaughter You've Got Mail) are obvious but unwarranted: the letters exchanged in The Lunchbox are less conversational, more confessional. He writes to her in English, writing initially for his own catharsis than any sense of communication, and she writes back in Hindi, giving away intimacies as if she thinks he might not understand the language that well. They are letters written with the kind of comfortable candour one finds in the neighbouring seat of an airplane, for example, candour that exists because the speakers aren't likely to meet again and can thus speak their minds. In this film's case, they never meet.

Not that it gets in the way of their spirited romance. For that's what this is, a film where Ila discovers cracks in her marriage and can mention them only to the stranger eating (and, indeed, critiquing) her cooking, and where the quiet Mr Fernandez " with a first name that delightfully belies his reclusive nature " rediscovers VHS-era laughter. There is much to smile at throughout this film as the two get to know each other and, in the process, tap into suppressed sides of themselves. All while Bombay, impossible Bombay, takes each of their individual soundtracks (hers from a neighbour's cassette-player, his from kids on a train) and melds them together.

Irrfan Khan plays Mr Fernandez with a superb placidity, a clock-obeying government employee who treasures silence. Khan clearly relishes the amount of internalisation the role allows him, and savours the quiet, thoughtful, melancholy beats of the film, unhurried but with his timing immaculate. He delivers his few lines with fantastic ease " a deadpan gag about a blind man stands out " but soaks up the silences even better: a scene where he reads a novel with one hand while eating his dinner with the other speaks, like this performance, volumes while keeping mum. A scene he stares up at an unmoving ceiling fan, with disbelief and a (momentarily justifiable) tinge of fear, is overwhelmingly good. Khan is a magnificent actor who keeps getting better, and this is him at his finest.

Enchanting him is Nimrat Kaur whom we haven't met before, but now, I daresay, shall be besotted with as a nation. Ila's brow is frequently furrowed and her eyes wide, and Kaur pulls off the role of a wife with a world on her shoulders very impressively. It is a disarmingly natural performance that is impossible to forget and difficult to analyse, and in this limited space one may merely express admiration. There is a beautiful bemusement to most of her actions, as if she, initially can't believe the world she has made for herself, and later can't believe the world the letters are tugging her toward. She cooks like someone who genuinely loves it, with an effortless sensuality and a discernible joy in the more meticulous preparations. She's excellent, and her character is strengthened by the terrific addition of an off-screen neighbour who lives above Ila's flat and loves to help " and to gloat. The always-great Bharati Achrekar is a treat as this invisible Aunty, and provides invaluable narrative thrust to a film that ambles along nice and slow.

Similarly critical is Fernandez's subordinate Aslam, a long-winded rookie the senior is supposed to show the ropes. Nawazuddin Siddiqui plays it relentlessly, bearing down on the taciturn Fernandez with irresistibly good-natured oafishness. He's a mess, full of lies and insecurity and files smelling of the vegetables he chops on them during the train-ride back home, but in a film where the leads are quiet and cocoon their cards too close to their chests, Aslam is the one yanking the narrative with furious urgency, making things happen or, at the very least, talking about things happening.

Batra, who has also written The Lunchbox, has allowed his smashing actors tremendous room to improvise, all the while himself sketching in nuanced details about the city, its food-ferriers, and the many disparities Bombay is crammed with. It is a film of multiple pleasures " small ones and overwhelming ones and exquisitely crafted ones " layered one on top of the other, with something for everyone, and so, so much for the cinematic glutton. Like the dabbawalas he loves, this director delivers.

Rating: 5 stars

• Posted in : Bollywood,News,Reviews
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• September 20th, 2013.

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Once in a while comes a film trailer which surpasses all expectations and makes you feel like watching it the first chance you get. The trailer of The Lunchbox' is one of those trailers. After having been shown in festivals across the world, The Lunchbox releases in Indian theatres today amidst speculation of it being chosen as India's official entry for the Oscars. With big names such as UTV, Karan Johar, Irrfan Khan, Nawazuddin Siddiqui attached to it, you don't expect an ordinary film. So does it deliver on its promises and expectations?

Story: Saajan Fernandes (Irrfan Khan) works in the Claims department as an accountant and is on the verge of retirement. Saajan lost his wife a while back and he has no children to look after, sufficing he leads a life of a loner. Aslam Sheikh (Nawazuddin), a chirpy orphan born up on the streets of Mumbai, is appointed as Saajan's assistant and is supposed to replace Saajan in his position when he eventually retires. On the other end of the spectrum, a Malad housewife Ila (Nimrat Kaur) who is neglected by her husband wants to make her husband notice her once again by feeding him delicious food. By a twist of fate and also thanks to the dabbawalahs, the lunchbox meant for Ila's husband lands up with Saajan. The two start exchanging letters and a cute companionship develops between the two.

The Lunch Box Movie Review

Direction: Ritesh Batra develops the script with utmost care, seeping it with old world charm where technology hasn't yet made its mark. The characters and their respective loneliness are as real as it gets and Batra manages to show that effectively without ever going overboard. The manner in which the relationship between Saajan and Ila is portrayed is as far removed from flamboyish Bollywood romances as possible. The Lunchbox has shades of Hollywood classics like You've got Mail' but the story and treatment is delicate and intimate. Ritesh Batra has drawn heavily from his life and the characters' authenticity vouches for that fact. Ritesh knocks it out of the park both as a writer and as a director.

Ritesh gets able support from his crew in making The Lunchbox a truly exemplary film. The cinematography (by Michael Simmonds) which captures Mumbai in all its glory makes the viewer a part of the narrative with effortless ease. The editing is one of the main reasons why a simple story like this one transpires into a film which is more than ordinary. The editor (John F. Lyons) gets it spot on as he cuts between the lives of Ila, Saajan and Aslam without using his editing scissors more than necessary.

Acting: Irrfan, by now we all know is one of the best Indian actors of all time. In The Lunchbox, he possibly delivers one of his life's best performances. As the almost retiree Saajan, he express the deep rooted loneliness of the character by his mannerisms and speaking style. If we didn't know already we would think Irrfan's real age is in the late 50s. Nimrat Kaur, who caught our eyes in the Cadbury ad this year, makes the best female debut of the year. She doesn't miss a beat as the forlorn housewife Ila trying to impress her husband. She ably competes with Irrfan and Nawazuddin in the acting department. I am interested to know the path she takes now after giving such a boisterous debut performance. Nawazuddin's scenes with Irrfan are the highlight of The Lunchbox as the two giants of Indian author backed cinema come together for the first time since Nawaz made it big in Bollywood. Aslam is my personal favourite character in The Lunchbox and Nawazuddin's performance has a lot to do with that.

Conclusion: The Lunchbox is a stirring, intimate tribute to the city of Mumbai and its people. It shows nostalgia, forlorn emotions, and loneliness in its raw form and yet never fails to make the viewer smile. The culinary dishes conjured up on screen is sure to make the viewer hungry. Ritesh Batra has carved an intricate tale of companionship, quite ironically, by keeping it simple. Is The Lunchbox one of the best films of recent years? Yes. Should you go watch it? Don't wait; just make a date with this Dabba.

Positives:

• Ritesh Batra's splendid screenplay and direction
• Acting performances by Irrfan, Nawazuddin and Nimrat
• The editing is top notch
• The cinematography brings Mumbai alive on screen
• The Lunchbox is a delight for food connoisseurs

Negatives:

• The pace of the film might deter people who are only used to Masala movies

Rating: 4.5 stars - without doubt 2013s best film!

Director: Ritesh Batra

IE Rating: *** 1/2

Imagine this. You are a man on the down slope of middle age. There are only dead ends in your dead beat life. You work in an office in which you push files all day long, and the days blur into sameness. And then one afternoon, as you pull your lunchbox towards yourself, something stirs. An unknown fragrance wafts out of the dabba, and you pause, and you look again. Is this really yours? You hesitate, look inside. Instead of the everyday, dull industrial food that you pay a monthly sum for, your lunchbox is loaded with home-made goodies that bring a smile to your eyes and mouth. This is food made with love, sweat and tears. This is food for the soul.

In one of the best performances you are likely to encounter, Irrfan, playing Saajan Fernandes, makes you see that middle-aged man. Not just see, but feel. That lunch box becomes a symbol of hope. Of a renewed interest in the present. And of a future, waiting to be realised.

Ritesh Batra's research on the legendary Mumbai dabbawalas who deliver millions of lunchboxes everyday through the city with unerring accuracy, led to his first feature. 'The Lunchbox' is about a dabba that fetches up at the wrong table, and the tasty fall-out of that little sin. I don't know if those famed dabbawalas have ever made such a mistake, but the result of Batra's mixed-up 'dabbas' is lovely, with a lingering delectable after-taste.

Ila (Nimrat Kaur) is a young stay-at-home wife and mother, whose routine - wake up, get kiddo ready, see off hubby, sort out clothes for the wash, get the dabba ready"is leavened by perky chats with an elderly neighbour, whose nosiness we overlook because of her apparent affection for Ila (we never see her, only hear the voice, and then we clock Bharati Achrekar's distinctive accent). She gives Ilapro tips on seasoning and condiments and ingredients, to target her husband's (Nakul Vaid) stomach, and through it, his increasingly indifferent heart .

Irrfan says little, letting his body do the talking. He is sitting most of the time we see him. At a desk, piled with crumpled paper, where he crunches numbers. At a table in the office canteen, where he spreads the dabba's wares, starting to come alive again. In his home, cluttered with old memories. Only once, when he is leaning against the balcony, and we see him from behind, does he forget his bent-by-life stance, and that's his only tiny misstep, which you notice only because the rest of it is pitch perfect. He sniffs the dabba's aroma, lets a slow smile build across his face, and we smile right back.

Nimrat Kaur is a find. Her Ila is so there, a real woman trying to find her happiness in the little things she does. A whisk of a wrist puts in mirch, haldi and sprinkles dhaniya, and when she hands the dabba to the man at the door, you know it's not just a steel container, but her beating heart. The hand-written notes that come back to her in the dabba, and the notes she writes in response, made me wistful, and hope good things happen to her.

And a side note on Nawazuddin, who is a side note in this winsome story on love and loss and longing, who comes through with a beautifully-calibrated act. Shaikh is an irritant, who keeps popping up to accost Saajan to get him to do things he, Saajan, doesn't want : Shaikh understands he is being blown off, and yet keeps his dignity intact. It's hard to take your eyes off Irrfan when he is in full flow, but Nawazuddin demands attention in his own right.

If it hadn't been for the occasional flatness, and a couple of predictable notes, there would have been no flaws in this dabba. I also found Ila's mother's (Lillete Dubey) segment, included solely to underline another kind of vacantness, a little forced. But these are tiny niggles in this film that gets the rest of it so right. Batra's characters are a delight. They may be of Mumbai, infused with intensedesi flavours, but can inhabit any part of the world. You want to take them home, sit them down at your table, and savour them, one mouthful at a time.