4 Perfect-Scores out of 4
David Gelb’s Jiro Dreams of Sushi is my favourite documentary. It’s important to get this fact out of the way, because it gives me the challenge of proving why it’s so amazing. Gelb’s film is a look into the mind and work of Jiro Ono, an 85-year-old sushi chef. It is a biography of a man whose entire life is defined by the simple act of constructing sushi. Roger Ebert called it “a portrait of tunnel-vision;” I call it a documentary that almost perfectly represents its subject’s philosophies.
Before meeting Jiro Ono, Gelb’s intention was to produce a documentary about sushi with the same scope as BBC’s Planet Earth. After meeting the owner of “Sukiyabashi Jiro,” a three-Michelin star restaurant in the basement of a Tokyo high-rise, Gelb found he was unable to avoid creating Jiro Dreams of Sushi. Jiro is so captivating – and his work ethic is so fascinating that the audience cannot avoid becoming mesmerized by the man.
Jiro’s philosophy is minimalist by nature. Immerse yourself in your work, fall in love with your job, and dedicate your life to mastering your skill. To Jiro, all it takes to achieve happiness is hard work. Calling him a workaholic is a technical inaccuracy – it would imply there are aspects of his life that he avoids. The man has spent over 75 years doing nothing but cooking sushi. What Gelb expertly captures with his camera is how his family, friends, colleagues, co-workers, apprentices, and chroniclers are all forced into Jiro’s world.
With help from Japanese food writer Masuhiro Yamamoto, the intricacies of Jiro’s restaurant, Japanese culture, society, and expectations are all demystified.
Important is Gelb’s decision to showcase Yoshikazu Ono, Jiro’s eldest son who will eventually take on the mantle of his father’s restaurant and dream. Jiro, however, has two sons. Because the eldest son is expected to succeed the father, little time is spent with Takashi Ono, Jiro’s younger son. Takashi runs a two-star branch of “Sukiyabashi Jiro” in Roppongi Hills, Tokyo. We know little about what Jiro thinks of Takashi, although we know little of what he thinks of Yoshikazu either.
Gelb’s film raises important questions by simply avoiding the topics altogether. What’s Jiro’s present-day home life like? We know the difference between Jiro now and Jiro 40 years ago is that he quit smoking, but what about his wife – a woman we never actually see or hear about? His parents were absent for much of his childhood, but what about an extended family? Friends? For the duration of 82 minutes, Gelb’s camera obsessively captures every aspect of Jiro’s kitchen and process, but is unable to reveal any notable details about Jiro’s private life. What, then, is of Jiro before he comes to work?
To the audience, Gelb almost shrugs his shoulders and says, “There is no Jiro outside of the restaurant.” That we see Jiro visit his hometown and meet up with old schoolmates is not enough to compensate for the lack of personal details about his life. We observe a cool glaze of boredom wash over Jiro’s face when he jokes with classmates, almost like he’s counting the minutes before he gets to go back to his counter.
Jiro Ono is a man who lives for his craft. Gelb does not judge his subject, nor does he frame his restaurant or his food with a sinister hue. Instead, Gelb’s camera lovingly captures each glorious piece of sushi with the care and grace of a painter putting brush to canvas.
I would say that Jiro Dreams of Sushi is my favourite documentary because it leaves me in complete awe at its dedication to its subject. If the sign of a strong documentary is not merely the mark it leaves on its audience, then it must surely be the way that the audience is left captivated and mesmerized by the film itself. Gelb accomplishes a supreme level of fascination and intrigue by choosing to frame the greatest of all human qualities: The refusal to give up on the pursuit of perfection.