Hotel Sal­va­tion

Inspired by India’s path towards becom­ing a glob­al super­pow­er, Hotel Sal­va­tion is Shub­hashish Bhutiani’s love let­ter to the coun­try of his birth. It fol­lows Daya (Lalit Behl), a 77 year-old man whose self imposed jour­ney towards death leads him to the epony­mous venue, accom­pa­nied by his scep­ti­cal yet respect­ful son, Rajiv (Adil Hus­sain). Locat­ed in the holy city of Varanasi, the hotel bor­ders the banks of the Ganges and is a sanc­tu­ary where the elder­ly can reside while they await their depar­ture from the world of the living.

Para­dox­i­cal­ly, both its atmos­phere and the guests them­selves are cheery and vibrant. If artis­tic treat­ments of death are often pow­ered by sad­ness and grief, this film takes the oppo­site tack. It sat­u­rates the screen with India’s bright and vivid colours. The expres­sions of human warmth make it an ode to life. Along with the son, the film invites the view­er to embrace death as nat­ur­al occur­rence rather than a cause for tor­ment and pain.

The film’s DIY spir­it is reflect­ed in a mul­ti­tude of charm­ing every­day scenes. Some­times we see beau­ti­ful land­scapes, some­times bois­ter­ous streets or mar­kets filled with peo­ple in kalei­do­scop­ic saris and dress­es, or fam­i­lies and friends shar­ing home cooked meals or admir­ing daz­zling light shows over the Ganges. In oth­er words, it is in the film’s sim­plic­i­ty and authen­tic­i­ty that makes it work so well.

Many of the sub­stan­tial shifts occur­ring in Indi­an soci­ety are sub­tly touched upon: glob­al­i­sa­tion (through an icon­ic Pep­si bot­tle), dig­i­tal­i­sa­tion, gen­er­a­tional gaps and female eman­ci­pa­tion. Writer/​director Bhutiani draws a poet­ic por­trait of a mod­ern India, gen­tly unveil­ing the strain between tech­nol­o­gy and tradition.

In one scene Rajiv’s phone inter­rupts med­i­ta­tion prac­tise with the priest, while his sis­ter announces her refusal of the arranged mar­riage over a fuzzy and glitchy Skype ses­sion. Yet the film nev­er dwells on this inter­nal con­flict, always pre­sent­ing its sub­ject with humour and an infec­tious sense of optimism.