sharky_55
Blink on your daily Japanese commute and you might miss Jiro Ono's Michelin three-star restaurant, Sukiyabashi Jiro. The modest ten- seater is tucked away underground near the Ginza subway station, and as a bumbling out-of-towner demonstrates, it is not so hard to mistake it for any ordinary sushi bar. In fact, with a month-long booking, fifteen minutes and a week's salary or so, you could be in and out of there during your lunch break. Jiro has never compromised his artistic integrity by expanding his trade or accommodating more customers for profit. Everything in his restaurant has its place and role, and like his courses there is no excess (he portions the food so that groups finish their meals at the same time). Director David Gelb talks about the meticulous setting in his commentary; he would move furniture around to accommodate his filming, to compose a better shot, and right on cue, Jiro would hustle over and return the piece to its rightful place. Great artists often immerse themselves so fully into their work that the person behind them disappears, and through biopics and documentaries like Jiro Dreams of Sushi, we are able to glimpse a little of what goes on behind the curtain. Jiro himself might disagree with this objective - he details how it is necessary to devote his entire life to his craft, fall in love with his work, dedicate all his time to mastery of the skill of sushi making. He must have a wife, although it is no coincidence that the film does not show her. Neither is Jiro shot in his home; he loathes holidays, preferring to continue working at the restaurant, and retirement would only bring about boredom. Sushi even invades his dreams, as the title discloses. Here is a man who has not an inkling of a personal life outside his work, and does not seem to be fazed by it. In the few scenes where he is out of the kitchen he almost withers and ages years, muted and made plain outside of his domain. Gelb, doubling also as the film's cinematographer, has taken to care to capture the intricacies of the artistry that goes into preparing Michelin three-star quality sushi. He utilises both slow and fast motion to portray the chefs in their kitchen, as gentle caressers of their ingredients and also efficient, precise workers. He gives us the foodie shots - salmon like glistening gems on smooth lacquer trays - but also understands that food arouses senses other than sight, and includes the sound of sizzles and visualises the steam which reveals how even their rice must be cooked to perfection. When Gelb does indulge in those glossy, magazine-quality shots in shallow-focus, he includes simple titles that present the food as if the screen was a visual menu, and we are about to order. A rhythmic track of drums and ringing bells brings to life the fish market and the chaos surrounding bidding for the best produce. In the kitchen, the soundtrack attempts to elevate the craft of sushi beyond Jiro's modest restaurant - they cook to Bach, to Tchaikovsky, to Philip Glass. But the peculiar thing about Gelb's direction is that he allows Jiro's philosophy to shine through these moments. Hands are wringing octopi in slow motion, water droplets gracefully fly through the air, and the violin croons, but what we hear most of all is Jiro's voice-over, quietly mediating on his life's work, and reaffirming that his goal was never the pursuit of money. The film's view of the artist is simple and unpretentious, a valuable insight in a world increasing dominated by expansion and the dollar value. One particular shot is more telling than any close-up of sushi; Gelb places his camera on the kitchen table as the chefs talk during their lunch break. The fish- eye lens indicates the voyeurism of a surveillance camera, but their conversation is natural, revealing and as far from performance as you can get. See the glee of one apprentice's face as he recounts the tale of finally perfecting an egg dish after two hundred attempts, and his reaction to Jiro's quiet approval. Though Gelb touches briefly on the issue of over-fishing, the past and his son's futures, it is Jiro's story that is at the heart of the film. His ascetic devotion to his craft seeps through every word, and also through generations; his younger son operates his own restaurant nearby (a perfect clone apart from the interior's reversal because he is left handed), while the older, well into his 50s, waits patiently to one day succeed his father. Jiro left his home at a young age, told by his parents to never return a failure, and began selling sushi on the streets of Tokyo. He has never left these roots. Watching the film is like peering through a window into a world with a work ethic most could never fathom. His career is fascinating yet beyond our comprehension. Is this what it is like to find your true calling, is this all there is? How can one be so sure of their life's work? But Jiro makes us sure that this path is etched in stone for him and his successors, and that he has no regrets. He wields his brush like a painter, gently applying shoyu to his dishes, and in Jiro Dreams of Sushi, his work has been immortalised.
broken-stairs
This movie popped up many times in my Netflix stream and I ignored it because it didn't really sound interesting. Eventually, I decided to give it a shot; something so highly rated on IMDb is worth it. I watched the movie with my family at home, who are not an easy crowd and I often defend my choices against their harsh opinions.However, this time, what a bore! This movie has no conflict. You've got a man whose story was that he was poor and became a sushi master (this is maybe 5 minutes of the movie). There is no critique of the chef, just endless praise.A couple things are interesting, such as the fish shopping and the difficulties the workers experience due to the perfectionism of Jiro. The other good aspect is the cinematography. Beautiful shots of sushi placed on plates. There is a little more information about Jiro's philosophy of food.The rest of the movie I can't even recall. It's slow, uninformative, and completely biased. There is nothing to keep your attention in this film. I find nothing interesting about a chef who is good at his specialty and maintains an unopposed mastery of it.If they wanted to make this a good movie and Jiro is really "perfect," at least show critics of his food being berated for not liking the food. Another thing that would have made this interesting is to learn more about the fish market or spend more than just a few minutes on the history of sushi or his upbringing. These things feel like footnotes to a long standing ovation to someone who has mastered sushi.I just can't believe the almost unanimous positive reaction the film gets. I was so disappointed, I had to give my two cents. I have defended many movies to my family but besides what I mentioned above as positives, I couldn't find anything to outweigh the dragging pace and conflict-less story of Jiro Dreams of Sushi.
karmaswimswami
Jiro and his noble, epic sushi stand in Ginza, Tokyo, get a loving and persuasive exposition in this handsome documentary. While the camera work could be much better, the stream-of-consciousness narrative is fetching and wooing, as both simple and overpowering as one takes Jiro's vaunted sushi to be. The food critic who seems to have discovered and propounded Jiro is a lovely man of nuance and a welcome character in the storyline. Jiro's austerity, vague asperity and fixity of purpose charm and endear even as he becomes his own most difficult act to follow. Even the food- literate will come away with fresh insight into and reverence for sushi. The story, the details, the personalities and their human considerations are as lambent, vital and tart as one imagines fresh ahi tuna chosen specially by Jiro and Jiro's esoteric sushi rice and prized wasabi to taste. With films such as this, one fears not being able to see the mountain for the mists. You come away, however, with a deep sense of conviction that Jiro is everything he is cracked up to be.
