Granted, with all those amendments not much is left of the former film's wet ploddings beyond the epistolary romance at its centre, but the structure of this delectable little gem and Batra's hints of magic realism dredges up memories of Keanu and Sandra. Thankfully the film also repeatedly and triumphantly proves how much more can be done with the conceit.
The Lunchbox bursts with flavour. You can almost smell it as you enter the cinema. It is a simple dish but one in which the ingredients have been meticulously prepared and put to use in such a way that everything lifts.
In the human tangle of Mumbai, Ila (Nimrat Kaur), a young, unhappily married mother is thrown a nurturing lifeline when the many-tiered lunchbox she prepares for her husband is accidentally delivered to the desk of Saajan (Irrfan Khan), a misanthropic widower staring down the barrel of retirement. Perhaps yearning for connection or simply because of their shared love of curry, the couple elect not to correct the mistake. Instead, they become pen-pals, with the little steel lunchbox as their aromatic go-between.
Seduction and food have long been cinematic bedfellows, the preparation of food usually giving way to love making (Like Water for Chocolate) or, dare I say it, being integrated into the act itself (9½ Weeks). But Batra is more careful with his recipe. Sensuality is not his primary concern. His is a more soulful concoction. He makes sure that his courses, carefully stacked one on top of the other, don't come into contact before they are ready to be devoured. In doing so, he allows each of his dishes to be enjoyed on their own merits and with their own peppering of spice.
Nowhere is this better displayed than Khan's tremendous performance as Saajan. He is such an inviting onscreen presence, even when his character's prickliness outwardly asserts otherwise. An air of resigned, though very charismatic, cheekiness wafts around him, capturing the essence of a once-vital man now struggling to find a reason to go on. Ila is, at first taste, a less robust character, trapped as she is within the confines of her tiny kitchen. Her unloved housewife apron certainly weighs her down in the film's initial scenes but Kaur and Batra add salt to the familiar soapish stereotype and, by not throwing Ila into the conventional petite melodramas, allow her complexities to develop.
In fact, melodrama on the whole, petite or otherwise, is kept to a minimum here, and the film is all the better for it. The central relationship, though heartfelt, only ever teeters on the edge of romance. Batra eloquently signals their connection through their letters and the syncopation of their words and worlds, but their conflicts remain their own.
In the place of a traditional love story, Batra enriches the lives of his two lonely hearts with peripheral dramas, either intertwined with the lunchbox, or enabled by it. Saajan plays office politics with his intended replacement, the cocky Shaikh (Nawazuddin Siddiqui) and Ila attempts to unravel her marriage, alone but for a the disembodied voice of her upstairs neighbour. Though initially treated as little more than side dishes, these narrative accompaniments gradually build into the most emotionally nourishing elements of this extraordinarily effective film.
The Lunchbox is stacked high with heartfelt observations of the buoyant effect of real human connection, even if it is from afar. It is a remarkable film. It is charming where it needs to be. It is moving where it needs to be. And, what's more, it knows to use its additives sparingly; magic realism adds a shimmering top-note but never overpowers, and the delicate flavour of real life presses through.
A most delightful meal.
★★★★
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