Jiro Dreams of Sushi

When I got the invitation to go to this film, I was extremely hesitant and worried as to what I was going to be viewing. Even to go so far as to accept the impending nap I was about to have.

I was sorely mistaken about getting a nap. From the very beginning the story and life lessons presented were gripping. True respect for the dedication, hard work and absolute presence of mind to clear away all the minutiae that many of us get caught up in to focus on the details that are so very important.

I have actually seen action films with more lulls and uninteresting parts then what I watched in this film. It's a great story.

Sushi lovers will be hypnotized by the 85 year old subject of the documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi. Jiro has spent his life seeking perfection in sushi preparation, and Michelin agrees that he has come close by awarding him three stars, unprecedented for an octogenarian.

Jiro's restaurant Sukiyabashi Jiro in a Tokyo office building basement has reservations available a month away. He and his heir, Yoshikazu labor all day to buy the best raw fish at the market and sell the best sushi. Nothing less.

The film does a good job tracking the preparation, from picking one out of ten fish at any time to delicately shaping tuna around rice or massaging octopi for 20 minutes before preparation. Buying the best rice is another ritual that has its own rules, and Jiro rules.

Although the documentary can be repetitious, moments of beauty accompany the process such as likening serving sushi to a concert with different moods and tempos.

It might be best to see this film on a full stomach. Otherwise you'll be racing to the nearest Asian bistro. Not a bad thing.

Located in a downtown Tokyo subway station, Sukiyabashi Jiro is an inconspicuous subterranean restaurant with just ten counter seats, yet it has the distinction of being the only sushi restaurant with a three-star Michelin rating. David Gelb's meticulously produced 2012 documentary tells the story of Jiro Ono, an octogenarian perfectionist whose constant striving for culinary transcendence has made him legendary among epicureans in the know. He loves his job, as he readily admits upfront, and while a model of stoic diligence and invariable routine, Ono does show his adoration in unexpected ways that manifest themselves through the unassuming pride he takes in his work. He even imagines new sushi creations in his sleep, thus the title. Such an unwavering quest does take its toll on his two sons who must find their way out of his shadow.

His younger son Takashi managed to escape the constant glare of his father by running his own premium sushi restaurant in the Roppongi Hills area of Tokyo, one that doesn't bother to compete with his father's. His older son Yoshikazu, however, bears the burden of the family legacy as the one to carry on his father's standards after he retires. Over fifty and still an apprentice, Yoshikazu patiently waits for his turn at running the flagship restaurant foregoing earlier dreams of becoming a race car driver. Since his father suffered a heart attack at seventy, he has taken over the critical task of getting the best fish possible at the world-renowned Tsukiji fish market. Gelb does a particularly nice job of showing the hurly-burly atmosphere of the pre-dawn tuna auctions and the lives of the men running the tiny stalls selling fresh seafood of all kinds. Perhaps by design, the film is comparatively more opaque in having us understand the genesis of the elder Ono's drive toward perfection.

While one contributing factor was the absence of Ono's father's absence, it is unclear who actually did influence him to become a sushi chef. There is also hardly a mention of the chef's wife, even though there is an extended passage of a reunion with his childhood pals who characterize him as something of a bully. Interviews with former co-workers shed some light onto the chef's stoicism. In fact, one of Japan's better known food critics admits to being intimidated by patronizing Ono's sushi bar due to the master's overwhelming artistry and attention to detail. Toward that end, I would have liked to have seen more scenes focused on the actual preparation of the sushi rather than simply admiring them on the counter once they are finished. Still, this is a unique look into a man who has not gone gentle into the good night in his quest for the perfect piece of sushi.

A lingering, sentimental look at the mentality and habits of Jiro Ono, legendary sushi chef and Japanese national treasure. The long, personal chats with Jiro and sons, plus an exhaustive investigation into every aspect of his business, are balanced by an overly generous dose of shallow focal-range, slow-motion food porn. Like many stereotypical wise men of his age and nationality, the old master also has plenty of sharp, stirring wisdom to impart. Though he doesn't come right out and say it, it's easy to see the parallels he hopes you'll draw between his dedication to the kitchen and the nuances of a rewarding life, and my breath caught in my throat on more than one occasion. A great vehicle for deep immersion into a very traditional Japanese culture, this is far deeper and more rewarding than it initially lets on.

Jiro is not an easy celebration of sushi - it is certainly not simply stunning shots of food on plates - it is rather a more difficult and even challenging film about the complex nature of obsession, perfection, and the discipline and almost OCD behavior that it takes to become the world's best.

Jiro is acknowledged as the world's best - his restaurant in a pass in an underground station in Tokyo sits 9 people at a time, has to be booked at least a month in advance, and costs the best part of a week's wages. Yet no-one would hesitate - this is, as Michelin recognizes, worth a trip to Japan just to go and eat there.

The film succeeds as it is itself a near perfect reflection of the same ethos - it becomes apparent very quickly that this is not sentimental romantic filming - it chooses to avoid rich color, and in the editing and, in particular, the composition of the shots is singularly well-thought through. Many shots are based on the golden mean, and placed exactly two-thirds to the right of frame - and there is throughout a sense of real thought and balance. The Peter Greenaway-like score add to the general sense of rhythm and balance here.

The documentary itself is particular and peculiar - it is not in itself a documentary that embellishes - it focuses on Jiro, his sons, their suppliers, the apprentices, the produce, and the product - but we always feel that there are more stories untold than told here - Jiro is not, in the main, likable - but he is totally and utterly committed and passionate to the point of coldness about his process - in a way that few are anymore - and in this sense the film is also more an elegy than a eulogy - Jiro's work ethic is gone forever even now - who wants to work 16 hours a day for 75 years anymore?

We are watching the recording of extinction, and it is still beautiful. So we end up with a stark yet beautiful film that both records the passing of greatness and questions it. It is certainly one of the best documentaries of 2012.