Short Film Review
by Ayesha Talreja
This review is published as part of the Youth Critics Initiative IV, a collaborative mentorship incubator between the 26th Reel Asian Film Festival and TACLA.
A sharp sound of knuckles rapping quickly against the door. You open it to an outstretched gloved hand, holding a brown paper sack, a brief nod with fleeting eye contact at the delivery person as the bag of hot, freshly prepared food is grabbed. The door shuts. Sound familiar? Ordering food straight to the door, especially after the COVID-19 pandemic, has become a regular occurrence, part of many daily routines here in North America. Other than a tip asked for by the food ordering app, how many people have given a second thought to the person who delivered their meal? The short film, Same Old, uses this angle to offer a nuanced exploration of spending time with a food delivery person.
The film creates pause and space for reflection on our busy daily lives about the importance of food. The film, although fictional, could almost be a documentary: set in the landscape of our present-day globalized, rapidly moving economy, one that prioritizes instant gratification, and hi-fi technology, and easily allows multi-billion dollar companies to make staggering profits off the little guy. Directed by Lloyd Lee Choi, SAME OLD, even within its short running time and limited dialogue, uses cinematography and acting to dig deep to explore the class and racial dynamics of being a daily wage worker in North America. Steeped in rich, nostalgic tones against the backdrop of a part of New York City that is often under-depicted — that of the kitchens of teeming restaurants, the busy shortcuts and darkened alleyways, Choi’s film foregrounds the precarity of gig work, the lack of worker protections provided by mega-corporations, and how these external factors can often lead to pitting people in similar situations against each other, often those with marginalized identities as lower-income, racialized workers.
When someone steals the protagonist, Lu’s e-bike, cutting off his key mode of transport and threatening his livelihood as a food delivery worker, he’s thrown into overdrive to cobble together funds and becomes yet another cog in the all-too-familiar gig economy machine. Matters become all the more dire when viewers realize everything is not what it seems, both in the private and the public sphere. Everyone enjoys good food, but do we think about how it ended up on our plates? The many hands it passed through to arrive at our dinner tables?
At home, Lu’s life is burdened by his responsibilities as the main breadwinner for his family, wife and mother. The viewer is hit with the realization that Lu is putting food on the table for others in order to provide for his family at home. In a heartbreaking moment, Lu does not admit to his family the theft of his bicycle, causing the audience to wonder why this profoundly impactful moment does not penetrate the family bubble. We later find out that the bike that Lu has is borrowed, creating more urgency for Lu as he seemingly races against time to get a bike back in his possession. The multiplicity of challenges that Lu and many others in a similar job are caught up in abound here; the film explores this through its use of pacing and story reveals. The director almost invisibly works in a sense of empathy and relatability by revealing plot complexities one by one, which allows the viewer to reflect on all that has happened so far in one night while noticing a domino effect of how one thing can rapidly escalate to another.
On the other hand, the film packs a provocative punch by harkening back to the influential Italian neorealist film of 1948, BICYCLE , which paints a similar picture of a working-class man desperate to be reunited with his source of livelihood. In some ways, SAME OLD seems to be saying that though much about our world has changed in the 70-odd years between both films, the bicycle as such a crucial means of income is still as relevant as ever. Choi depicts Lu as one amongst the crowd and earnestly conveys his sense of desperate wandering, set against dramatic musical scores and the swelling urban sounds of sirens and traffic. Though he is framed as one of many, we are also made to feel empathy for Lu in particular. Through the actor’s portrayal of Lu moving wearily yet urgently through the city, the viewer is able to see him as a friend you would want to help out. Choi masterfully stays away from evoking the emotion of pity in the viewer, choosing instead to explore Lu’s character in a more humane and intimate sense that allows for a feeling of camaraderie by presenting Lu as a man who is resourceful, and with agency. A sense of curiosity around Lu’s future also lingers throughout the film, and a tendency to root for him to find his bicycle, playing on our natural human sense of connectedness to each other, a testament to the medium of film in making us feel closer together.
The film grapples with notions of home, of belonging, of care for ourselves and for others. It challenges the concept of the so-called American Dream: the notion that when one migrates to America, they must work hard until they are able to achieve certain financial stability.
The reality is, in an economy that devalues the working class and treats people as disposable without safety nets of healthcare and decent working conditions, the American Dream remains a mirage for most.
SAME OLD also offers an invitation to reflect on how separate we have become from what sustains us, and how food has become almost a mechanical part of our days in many urban settings around the world. The joy of eating and feeding ourselves and one another has become a sort of habitual function, much like the modern world of work itself. If we just stopped to consider the different hands and paths the food travelled through to be presented as our nourishment, we may wake up to the cycles of exploitation and inequities being perpetuated through our food system.
Overall, this film offers a deeply moving reflection, a quiet film about a busy, noisy and overwhelming city. Its touching soundtrack adds to its dream-like visual aesthetic. Though it focuses on a single character, its storytelling ability renders the plot universal, anyone who has spent time in a city can relate to the story of challenges and struggles, creating an emotional pull toward the character and his difficulties. The film is able to provoke a deep sense of relatability from the viewer, while also allowing us to contemplate which one of our dreams has been crushed by the city.
Ayesha Talreja is from the West End of Toronto and studied International Development Studies at McGill University. She has been involved in many different community initiatives and currently works at a nonprofit. Most recently, she spent two years teaching in Mumbai, working with children of migrant labourers. She is passionate about issues of access to resources, equity and justice.
