Where Stephanie reviews a film from ‘Notmeria

India’s

The Lunchbox

 

One of the most fascinating things about foreign films is that they let a viewer see how people in other places go about their daily routines. In India, office building and other workplaces do not have microwaves and refrigerators, so people don’t bring lunches to work in the morning. India is one of the fastest growing economies in the world, so naturally, an entire industry has developed, designed to get working people hot meals from home. Here’s how it works: a delivery person called a “dabbawala” picks up lunch boxes from various kitchens and takes them to their destinations by bike, bus or train.

After lunch, the dabbawala picks up the empty lunchbox and takes it back to the kitchen it came from. This system, used by hundreds of millions, is shockingly accurate, especially when you consider how much time it takes for a meal to cool and how many people use this service. It was even the subject of a study done by Harvard’s business school. People say that a dabbawala never makes a mistake. But what if a meal got sent to the wrong person? What kind of otherwise impossible connection might get made?

That is the premise of 2013’s The Lunchbox. The film’s opening scene is of a woman, Ila, cooking. She takes the meal she has made and puts into the lunchbox and hands it off to a dabbawala to take to her husband. Only it never gets to him, it winds up in a different office building than her husband’s and in the hands of a soon to be retiree named Fernandez. The two forge an unlikely relationship that acts a breath of fresh air to their lives.

The lunchbox has four compartments. The number four comes up as another important part of the film because that’s how many couples are in the movie. The film presents each couple in its own compartment with outcomes unique to the people involved. Every other romantic comedy tells the story of the beginning of a romance and ends with a wedding or some other version of happily ever after. The camera turns off before the couple gets over the madly-in-love phase that sciences tells us only lasts about 3-6 months. That’s because there is a biochemical difference between romantic infatuation and committed love. This is all due to a feel-good chemical called oxytocin, a.k.a the love hormone. When you fall in love, your brain starts churning out the stuff like it’s cocaine at Studio 54. You experience a rush of euphoria.

But like disco, it isn’t built to last. Your brain simply cannot keep up with its production and still function. In order for a relationship to push past this Oxytocin embargo, romantic love needs to be replaced with committed love. For whatever reason, movies rarely depict this phase. The Lunchbox goes there. It goes there showing bitterness and devotion, isolation and community. (But don’t you romantic comedy die hards fret, because there is a wedding, too.)

Director Ritesh Batra makes wise choices that elevate the story without being obnoxiously clever. He shows a sensitivity, a tenderness through his treatment of the characters. Ila and Fernandez never actually meet. Their only communication is through letters they pass back and forth in the lunchbox. Ila writes to Fernandez about her upstairs neighbors, Auntie and Uncle, who are quite possibly the weirdest couple of the four. The audience only experiences Auntie as a helpful voice who talks to Ila through the wall. You never see Uncle, he has no connection to the world outside of Auntie. They are each other’s world. The choice to make Auntie a disembodied voice was a powerful one. It showed their commitment to each other by the total removal from the rest of creation.

One of the most powerful moments in the film was so subtle that if you blinked you might have missed it. It was a shot during Fernadez’s pucky, wide-eyed protege’s wedding. When Shaikh introduces himself to Fernandez, he identifies himself as an orphan. It’s mentioned several times throughout the film. Remember what your high school English teacher said, “If something is mentioned more than once, it’s important.” The archetype of the orphan is that he or she experiences a disconnection to others and longs to replace his or her missing family. Because Shaikh has no people, Fernandez is his only witness at the ceremony. During the scene, the wedding party gathers for a photo. Fernandez is on one side and the bride’s family is on the other.

The picture is lopsided, with the groom’s side looking lonely while the bride side is crowded. The photographer takes a second picture, this time including everyone. The camera moves about an inch to the right to accommodate her entire family.

Suddenly, what was a photo telling a story about an orphan’s sad lack of family is now full of family members. Marriage is the ultimate expression of committed love; a space that was empty is now of people. For an orphan, it is a fulfillment of a lifelong yearning. It’s a complete, beautiful moment in the film.

However, marital commitment isn’t an avenue that leads to only one road. It can spell out isolation just as easily as it can put an end to it. The scenes dealing with Ila and her husband portray strain and a lack of connection. Their relationship depicts the failure of committed love; as it is an exhaustible resource.

Consider this scene where Ila is trying to talk to her husband. Notice the placement of the mirror to the left of the screen. Ila is trying to get his attention, but he is not interested. His eyes are focused on something the audience can’t see. She tries to get his attention by putting on a nice dress, touching him, but he is not present to her. Though she is in a room with her husband, Ila is all alone. Her reflection in the scene is sad reminder that Ila is talking to herself.

There is one more couple in the film, Ila’s parents. There has to be some mystery, so I’ll leave that to your imagination. The Lunchbox  has made a huge splash on the world’s stage and swept through Cannes like a hurricane. That’s remarkable considering this is Batra’s debut as a director and writer. He is especially adept at depicting an India that is running so fast that it may have dropped its soul somewhere along the road. If this film is any indication of direction, India may soon be a major contributor to the art of filmmaking.

With love,

-Stephanie Rose