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A Gala slot at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) is usually reserved for a big, glitzy, star-studded entry. Debutant director Ritesh Batra’s The Lunchbox does not fit that description. It is a rare film that has made the cut for the upcoming edition of TIFF (September 5 to 15) purely on the strength of the global buzz that it has been generating since premiering and winning a viewers’ choice award in Cannes earlier in the year. The only internationally recognised actor in the film is Irrfan Khan, who, of course, is no stranger to such spotlights. The Lunchbox also has Nawazuddin Siddiqui (rapidly emerging as one of the most visible faces of India’s indie cinema) and Nimrat Kaur (a Mumbai theatre actress beginning to make a mark on the big screen). By no stretch of the imagination would that be regarded as a cast that could send the shutterbugs into a tizzy at a major cinema showcase. So what is it about Batra’s film that is fetching it such spontaneous attention? Apart from its undeniable worth as a cinematic effort, it is the strong feel-good core of The Lunchbox that is wowing the world. The film narrates a simple yet compelling love story that is an ode both to humanity and to Mumbai’s famously efficient lunch delivery system. Its crafting is elegant and subtle, an attribute accentuated by the restrained performances by the principal actors. Critics around the world have been showering hosannas on the film and with good reason. Variety described The Lunchbox as a film “that hits all the right tastebuds”. The Hollywood Reporter called it “a very Indian tale in its delicacy and humour”. Global film distributors, too, have responded enthusiastically. By the end of the Cannes Film Festival itself, Match Factory, the Cologne-based international sales company representing the film, had sold the film to virtually every major market in the world. Naturally, Batra is being regarded as one of the world’s most promising first-time directors. The Lunchbox has attracted comparisons with Mira Nair’s Monsoon Wedding, which not only won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival in 2001, but went on to become a huge global hit. Batra’s film, essentially a sensitive study of loneliness and unrealised dreams in a bustling megalopolis, is pegged to a nearly improbable delivery error by a Mumbai dabbawala. The mistake leads to an exchange of notes between middle-class housewife and an accountant on the verge of retirement. The Lunchbox is a neat love letter to Mumbai, a city that Batra was born and raised in before he headed to New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts. “Mumbai,” he has said, “has many cities within it…. The city keeps evolving but there is a core that doesn’t change.” It is both that core and the rapid changes that have occurred around it that The Lunchbox captures with striking finesse. “India was a very different place when I was growing up,” the writer-director said in Cannes. “In 20 years, it is a completely different place.” The Lunchbox is the story of a woman, Ila (Nimrat Kaur), who, egged on by an elderly neighbour upstairs (a lady we hear but never see), turns to her culinary skills to win the attention of her workaholic, negligent husband. The lunchbox that she packs ends up at the wrong office desk. The recipient is an ageing clerk, Saajan Fernandes (Irrfan Khan), a man drained of all enthusiasm by the ravages of life. Ila realises that her lunchbox has been mistakenly delivered to a complete stranger. The next morning, she sends a note placed in an empty compartment of the dabba. Saajan responds with a characteristically cold note. As the days pass and the lunchbox goes to and fro, the communication through the little notes becomes a means for the two to reveal their inner selves to each other, layer by layer. The character of the retiring Saajan is contrasted with that of Aslam Shaikh (Nawazuddin Siddiqui), a garrulous apprentice, who has been hired to replace Saajan. He is a hardy Mumbaikar, who has learnt to take the rough with the smooth. Besides Saajan’s functional office and Ila’s modest home, The Lunchbox catches its characters in crowded trains, buses and auto-rickshaws, besides other crowded places like eateries and markets. This isn’t the romanticised version of the western metropolis that Hindi cinema usually projects. This is real, tangible Mumbai. About six years ago, Batra had planned a documentary on the lunch delivery men. He embedded himself with them for a week. As the filmmaker followed the dabbawalas around, he heard their stories. A majority of the tales they narrated were about the people they serve. Thus was born the idea of a fictional feature. The result is an Indo-French-German-US co-production that is going places with pretty much the same efficiency that Mumbai’s dabbawalas bring to their daily operations.
Revival of the ‘cult’ film Jaane Bhi Do
Yaaro, directed by Kundan Shah who could never repeat the masterful command over the
What is a cult film? A cult film is a film that attracts a devoted group of followers or obsessive fans, often despite having failed commercially on its initial release. The term also describes films that have remained popular over a long period of time among a small group of followers. Although they may only have a short cinema life, cult films often enjoy ongoing popularity through long runs on video issued in video “runs” with more copies than other films. Cult films are often known to be eccentric, do not follow traditional standards of mainstream cinema and usually explore topics not considered mainstream-yet there are examples that are relatively normal. In India, cult films are sometimes defined by their initial failure to draw in packed theatres or be commercially successful but that acquire archival value among the same and following generations. Some examples of cult films in India are Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak, Maine Pyaar Kiya, Sholay — yes, that’s right, and Mera Naam Joker. Mera Naam Joker was a turnip at the boxoffice during the first week or two of its release. Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak and Maine Pyaar Kiya were hits from the very first show. Mera Naam Joker did not pick up later but over time, these films have become the greatest cult films in the history of Indian cinema. Thus, there is no hard and fast formula that goes to create a cult film. The American definition of a cult film does not necessarily jell with the Indian definition of a cult film. Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron was a commercial failure when it was first released, perhaps because in the ‘happily-ever-after’ ambience of that time, the ‘sad’ ending did not jell with the audience expectations. Today, reality is admired and sad endings are considered more real than fiction and that is what large sections of the audience are fond of. Ishaqzaade, for instance, is a big hit inspite of, or perhaps because of its tragic end, because the young audience took it as a reflection of life around us. Harper Collins India Limited published a book on the film in 2010 authored by Jai Arjun Singh, a freelance journalist based in Delhi. He titled the book after the film. “Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro is now a byword for the sort of absurdist, satirical humours that Hindi cinema just hasn’t seen enough of. This is the story of how it came to be despite incredible odds — and what it might have been. Jai Arjun Singh’s engaging take on the making of the film and its cult following is as entertaining as the film itself,” goes the blurb. PVR Director’s Rare in association with NFDC (National Film Development Corporation) released the digitally restored version of Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro in October last. It was re-released pan-India exclusively at PVR Cinemas only. A 1983 film made on a shoe-string budget of Rs 7 lakh, Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro hobbled and stumbled its way to its finish. Today, it has been re-released because of its tremendous popularity among the internet generation. The massive Y-generation that has bloomed in the world of the internet, YouTube and blogs, have watched, downloaded and replayed the film many times. Just one site shows more than 1, 25,000 hits and there are many others you can hit and watch the film in with bigger hits. Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro did not end on happy or hopeful note. But it worked. The film was a non-stop laughathon. The credits spell out a veritable Who’s Who of good Indian cinema and also evolves into an excellent promotional platform for the Film and Television Institute, Pune, on the one hand and the National School of Drama, Delhi. Most of the cast and crew are now household names not only in India but also beyond Indian shores. Naseeruddin Shah, who portrayed Vinod Chopra, said in an interview on a television channel that wherever he goes, be it to England, the USA, Poland, Dubai, locals identify him with three films — Monsoon Wedding, Masoom and Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro. People who have seen this black comedy-cum-satire-cum-political comment will forever recall the climactic vastra-cheeran scene from the Mahabharata presented to a theatre audience within the film. As the scene shows the corpse of the murdered police commissioner ‘playing’ Draupadi, this is called vastra-cheeran because Duryodhana tries to tear ‘her’ sari instead of stripping it off ‘her.’It is hilarious. Even the in-screen audience laughs at the funny goings-on while Naseeruddin Shah steps on stage as Duryodhana and decides to ‘save the honour’ of Draupadi as a chaste ‘Bharatiya Naari’ before the two villainous real estate promoters catch on to who the stage Draupadi really is. While the goings get more and more messed up, a different backdrop drops on the stage and the drama changes to a scene from the Salim-Anarkali romance with the corpse now playing
Anarkali!
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“India was a very different place when I was growing up.... In 20 years, it is a completely different place.... Mumbai has many cities
within it…. The city keeps evolving but there is a core that doesn’t change.
— Ritesh Batra in cannes
