-By Maggie Lee
For movie details, please click here.
It’s torture to watch
Jiro Dreams of Sushi—if you are on an
empty stomach. David Gelb’s documentary on Jiro Ono, the
85-year-old sushi chef whose Tokyo restaurant received three
Michelin stars, is a paean to perfectionism and a crafty bit of
food porn.
Never mind that the cinematography is so glossy, the film sometimes
looks like a fashion shoot. Or that it serves philosophy in
bite-size without delving into the background or evolving culture
of eating and preparing sushi in the wake of culinary
globalization. (You’ll learn more from a dime-a-dozen Japanese
manga on the subject.)
Shooting mostly in the 10-seater basement restaurant Sukiyayabashi
Jiro (whose menu starts at around $300 minimum) in Ginza, the
feature itself is largely squashed inside the chef’s small,
meticulously routine world. Interviews with Jiro, his sons, his
apprentices and food critics concur on his perfectionist
attitude—not surprising if one is familiar with Japanese reverence
for “
shokunin” (artisan's) dedicated work ethic.
Still, the lengths Jiro takes to maintain and improve his
standards—from never taking a day off except to go to funerals, to
massaging an octopus for 50 minutes, to customizing plate layout
for left-handed customers—have their amusement value. Conversations
with his sons Yoshikazu and Takashi elicit sympathy for the
pressure one would expect they’re under to sustain the restaurant’s
reputation in the long term. The most touching anecdote comes from
an apprentice’s account of how he wept when Jiro finally gave his
approval to his egg dish after rejecting the previous 200 he
made.
The sushi pieces are shot professionally and edited snazzily to
look like a mouthwatering slide show. Filming quality of other
locations or scenes such as Tsukiji fish market, streets of Tokyo
or activity in the kitchen are merely functional. One interviewee
has likened Jiro to the conductor of an orchestra in the way he
controls the work flow. Perhaps this explains the choice of pieces
by Glass, Richter, J.S. Bach and Mozart for the score. It’s
soothing and appropriate, but when it’s so thickly laid over nearly
every non-dialogue passage, the effect is as overwhelming as
dipping already-vinegared raw mackerel in soya sauce.
—
The Hollywood Reporter
Film Review: Jiro Dreams of Sushi
A light, appetizing culinary documentary that will attract most people except serious foodies.
March 8, 2012
-By Maggie Lee
It’s torture to watch
Jiro Dreams of Sushi—if you are on an empty stomach. David Gelb’s documentary on Jiro Ono, the 85-year-old sushi chef whose Tokyo restaurant received three Michelin stars, is a paean to perfectionism and a crafty bit of food porn.
Never mind that the cinematography is so glossy, the film sometimes looks like a fashion shoot. Or that it serves philosophy in bite-size without delving into the background or evolving culture of eating and preparing sushi in the wake of culinary globalization. (You’ll learn more from a dime-a-dozen Japanese manga on the subject.)
Shooting mostly in the 10-seater basement restaurant Sukiyayabashi Jiro (whose menu starts at around $300 minimum) in Ginza, the feature itself is largely squashed inside the chef’s small, meticulously routine world. Interviews with Jiro, his sons, his apprentices and food critics concur on his perfectionist attitude—not surprising if one is familiar with Japanese reverence for “
shokunin” (artisan's) dedicated work ethic.
Still, the lengths Jiro takes to maintain and improve his standards—from never taking a day off except to go to funerals, to massaging an octopus for 50 minutes, to customizing plate layout for left-handed customers—have their amusement value. Conversations with his sons Yoshikazu and Takashi elicit sympathy for the pressure one would expect they’re under to sustain the restaurant’s reputation in the long term. The most touching anecdote comes from an apprentice’s account of how he wept when Jiro finally gave his approval to his egg dish after rejecting the previous 200 he made.
The sushi pieces are shot professionally and edited snazzily to look like a mouthwatering slide show. Filming quality of other locations or scenes such as Tsukiji fish market, streets of Tokyo or activity in the kitchen are merely functional. One interviewee has likened Jiro to the conductor of an orchestra in the way he controls the work flow. Perhaps this explains the choice of pieces by Glass, Richter, J.S. Bach and Mozart for the score. It’s soothing and appropriate, but when it’s so thickly laid over nearly every non-dialogue passage, the effect is as overwhelming as dipping already-vinegared raw mackerel in soya sauce.
—
The Hollywood Reporter
