Visually splendid, but lacking depth, David Gelb’s Jiro Dreams of Sushi, certainly left my
mouth watering for the delectable raw fish preparations that have exploded in
popularity in the last decade. The Jiro of the title is the 85 year old chef
and owner of a tiny ten seat sushi restaurant in a basement in Tokyo. It has
twice been awarded three stars by the Michelin Guide, an honor that suggests
it’s worth a trip to that country just to eat in the restaurant, where the menu
is determined based on quality and availability that day, and perfection is the
only standard by which Jiro judges the food.
What Gelb demonstrates quite clearly is Jiro Ono’s
genius, if we can call it that, at the craft of sushi preparation. He has
dedicated his life to the art since the age of nine, when his parents made him
leave home. There are devout testimonials from his kitchen staff of apprentices
(it takes ten years before Jiro will even allow an attempt at egg sushi), an
adoring former apprentice, a food critic, and of course Jiro’s two sons, the
younger of whom has struck out on his own with an identical replica, though
mirror image, of his father’s restaurant.
We learn from all these men that Jiro is committed,
almost to the point of irrationality, to perfecting his craft. He speaks
eloquently of distinguishing the subtleties in the taste of tuna and deciding
which tuna is right for his restaurant. He rarely takes a day off and was
mostly absent from his sons’ childhood, leaving the house before sunrise and
returning after they’d gone to bed. He demands similar dedication from his sons
and staff. One day his eldest son will take over the business, but everyone
seems to agree he’s doomed to failure, not because he lacks the abilities of
his father, but because he will have to be twice as good just to appear to be as good. I can’t imagine
living under such a shadow. The younger son opened his own restaurant knowing
full well he would never take control of his father’s.
But what’s missing amid the 80 minutes of praise for this
master chef is any exploration of what, besides fresh high quality seafood,
goes into the making and preparation of such delights. There are glimpses of seaweed
being toasted over heat and rice being prepared ever so carefully. There are
comments about the fish being cut to the right size to balance properly with
the rice and wasabi, but at the end I would have liked to know a little more
about soy sauce preparation, how you determine the right amount of massaging
for the fish, and generally what makes his sushi so phenomenal. Devotion to the
art is the necessary first step, but we don’t learn much about what comes next.
Additionally, we see a lot of men talking in the film. They talk about long
days at work and having little time for family life. No interviews are
conducted with any of the women in their lives to find out about their feelings
regarding their sons and husbands. So we never get a sense of the effect such
dedication has on their personal lives.
Still, there are worse ways you can spend 80 minutes than
on a documentary that shows wonderful food in all its colorful and sparkling
glory. I probably won’t ever get the chance to eat at Jiro’s restaurant, but
for a while at least this film will provide fodder for my own dreams.
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