I watched a movie this week that bowled me over: The Lunchbox. It's a story about love and loss—and hope—brilliantly hinged on the lunchbox delivery system in India.
Beautiful Ila (played by Nimrat Kaur) is neglected in her marriage, and in an effort to win back her husband, every morning she makes up a delicious lunchbox that is supposed to make its way to him at his office. Somehow the normally unimpeachable delivery system goes awry and the lunchbox goes instead to a lonely, slightly older accounts manager in a government department, Saajan (Irrfan Khan). Ila's cooking is sublime, and every lunch provides Saajan with a glimmer of pleasure in his otherwise dreary day. Eventually Ila and Sajaan begin to correspond via notes tucked into the lunchbox, and what unfolds then somehow captures a dizzying array of ideas: the way grief can linger far beyond its initial blow, the slow but devastating effects of isolation, the freeing release of finding a kindred spirit, the uncharted waters of love—how many ways we can fall in love, and how different every love is.
I have covered only a fraction of the themes in the movie. The Lunchbox invites us in to India's class system to the huge bets put on its IT sector; to the changing culture in its busiest cities as tradition gives way to unrelenting modernity—leaving so many looking in helplessly from the outside; from the streets, steamy kitchens, and tiny stores that feed the lucky and employ those who never will be.
I LOVED THIS FILM. IT IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE MOVIES EVER.
That capitalization, that bold, is how I speak about the movie to my friends, too. At my son's hockey practice last night, I bent the ears of every single parent I knew to tell them about the film, to insist that they watch it. "You HAVE to," I said, "You will love it as much as I do." I will figure out other ways of shouting out my devotion, too, over the coming days and weeks, because I can't stop thinking about this movie and needing everyone I know to watch it.
Consider that passion, that need. That intense desire to share, to recommend. Think about the 50 or more people who I will have cornered (yes, I will get physical!) to tell about the film. Of that 50:
- Maybe 15 will have already seen it. They will be reminded of their feelings about the film, and this may jog their minds the next time anyone asks them, "Seen any good movies lately?"
- Maybe 10 will have never heard of it, and now they really, really will have (!).
- Maybe 20 will have heard about it, and my fervent case for watching the film will convince them to check it out more seriously.
- And maybe, just maybe, I''ll get 10 people to watch it.
Also: I will enjoy spreading the word about the film. I will because it means something personal to me—The Lunchbox touched me and I obviously feel that it says something about the world, about our relationships in it, that I want to be connected to, to share with others.
At this point, I would like to claim the title of a superfan. There are legions of us, and we trumpet the books, films, TV shows, restaurants, and brands that we adore.
We are important, because we are the ultimate word-of-mouth ambassadors. Brands know we are, but some do better than others at leveraging our passion.
It doesn't take much, either, to get a little boost from us. After watching The Lunchbox, I tweeted my love for the film and its stars, without even a hashtag—and its production company, Dar Motion Pictures, did the following:
- Found my tweet;
- Favourited my tweet;
- Retweeted my tweet;
- Replied to my tweet, thanked me, and asked me to tell them what my favourite scene in the movie was—while making sure to allow enough space to include #TheLunchbox.
My response? A blush of pleasure. A quick reply, no two. In the first I mentioned my favourite scene. After tweeting it I realized it was not enough to mention just one favourite scene—I needed at least one more, and good heavens, I had forgotten to include the hashtag in my first tweet. So the second tweet, good and hashtagged, made me feel better, like I had done a better service for the film.
BUT IT WAS NOT ENOUGH!
Look at this blog post. Dar Motion Pictures' savvy response to my tweet prompted this blog post.
This all makes me think, and not just because I could watch Saajan slowly inspect each lunchbox and savour the first, life-changing bites of Ila's creations forever. It makes me think because not only am I a superfan, I am involved in an industry (publishing) that can so leverage our species. Some of us are doing better than others at that (I could certainly improve in my work).
Can you believe what one movie can do? Not just a movie—a treasure trove of marketing insights!
Also:
THE LUNCHBOX: WATCH IT!
Here's a trailer:
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