Is it possible to create something so pure in its simplicity that it disappears?
It wasn’t until I heard several people gush about this film on various podcasts here and there that I became interested in checking it out. However, Jiro Dreams of Sushi has garnered such a strong positive reaction from friends and critics that it would be silly of my not to at least give it a shot.
I’m so very glad I finally got a chance to do so.
At 85, Ono is the acknowledged master of his art. Michelin gave Sukiyabashi Jiro a rare three-star rating, meaning that it’s “worth traveling to the country just to eat there.” Superstar chef Anthony Bourdain has bowed down and declared his unworthiness, and the Japanese government has named Jiro a living national treasure. In person, he’s smiling but ascetic, a lean, weathered artisan whose devotion to his craft is complete. Documentarian David Gelb’s camera follows him to the Tsukiji fish market, where we get a hint of what makes Ono’s sushi stand out from the pack (he has special arrangements with vendors whose standards are as exacting as his). Would you be willing to massage an octopus for 45 minutes, until its flesh possesses just the right amount of chewability? Jiro is. “It always has to taste better than last time,” he says.
It’s not that Ono’s past is unimportant; he just doesn’t have much of one. Having left home at 9 — and being told by his parents not to come back — he became a sushi apprentice at a time when the food was still sold in the streets of Tokyo, well before it achieved global fame with the introduction of the California roll in the 1980s. We see old photos of Jiro in his youth, but they convey little. More compellingly complicated is the master’s relationship with his two sons. The elder, Yoshikazu, is still his father’s apprentice at 50, and he wonders if he’ll ever be his own man.
A younger son, Takashi, is charged with the lesser task of managing a second restaurant, in Roppongi Hills, identical to the mother ship in every respect other than that everything’s reversed (the father’s a lefty, the son a righty). Both sons wanted to go to college, but Ono wouldn’t let them, and Yoshikazu says he hated making sushi at first. “I wasn’t much of a father,” Jiro admits.
Those moments do serve to humanize what could have been a very dry documentary, however, Gelb’s focus is wider than just the family dynamic, he genuinely does want to capture the state of gourmet sushi in Japan, and that is not ideal. With the over fishing of some staple foods, if has become more and more difficult for high end fish brokers and chefs to find the ingredients they need. With customers requiring reservations over a month in advance, and meals starting at around $400 a plate (that is not an exaggeration), Jiro wants to be sure that he’s able to serve them the absolute best food, and it’s getting harder in his old age, rather than easier.
I had very few, simply niggling problems with the film. While watching it, the pace of the movie can’t help but feel like it’s 2 and a half episodes of a television profile special chopped together into one film. Along with that, as mentioned before, Jiro’s past isn’t very existent, and truthfully, those are probably the slowest parts of the film. Removing them and being careful with the lingering editing would easily take out a rough 10 minutes of an otherwise great film.
There is so much so love about Jiro Dreams of Sushi. It is so rare to find a person who so completely and willingly dedicates his life to his work of serving others, Jiro is a true treasure. This film is absolutely gorgeous to look at, all the while making my salivary glands work overtime as the camera ogles the amazing looking dishes from every angle possible and often in slow motion. If you’re a sushi fan, Jiro Dreams of Sushi is a no-brainer, if you aren’t a sushi fan, there is still plenty to recommend here. A definite must watch.