Movie Review: "Jiro Dreams of Sushi" (2011)
When does dedication to something become a liability more than an asset?
I love a good food doc, particularly one about a restaurant and even more so about a Michelin-starred restaurant. This one, directed and shot by David Gelb, is not bad. Jiro Ono (according to Wikipedia, still alive at 99 years old) ran a 3-star, 10-seat sushi bar in a Tokyo metro station where meals started at $300 a person. Everyone seems to agree that it was (still is?) the best sushi in the world. In his late 80s when the doc was made, Jiro says he dedicated 75 years of his life to sushi. As the title implies, it was all he cared about. All he thought about. He hated holidays, hated not working. He was up at 5am every morning and spent little time at home.
The film stands back in awe at his single-minded, obsessive, maniacal dedication to his profession. The poster tag is inaccurate. He didn’t merely “fall in love” with his work. If this movie is to be believed, he dedicated every waking (and non-waking) moment to it. His two boys -- both of whom apprenticed under their father, are master sushi chefs themselves, and are part of the family business -- didn't know him growing up. He has a wife but we never see or hear from her. Obviously Jiro’s accomplishments are hugely impressive but, uh, is that all there is? Is this any kind of life to emulate? What about the costs? One of the top regrets of people on their deathbeds: "I wish I hadn't had worked so much." I suppose the costs of Jiro’s mania are implicit yet obvious. Maybe the movie doesn't have to tease them out or otherwise make them explicit. But Gelb seems to endorse Jiro’s insane sacrifice when an equally reasonable alternative interpretation is that Jiro suffered from some kind of mental illness. Man does not live by sushi alone.
One of the major draws of a movie like this is the peek it offers into the world of luxury and exclusivity. 99.99% of us are never going to eat at Jiro’s, Noma, or El Bulli.1 But it’s obvious to me that, above a certain level, what you’re really paying for is bragging rights. I mean, bragging rights are a lot of fun, don’t get me wrong. Everyone loves to pat themselves on the back for being special. I’ve eaten at both Joël Robuchon restaurants at the MGM in Vegas. I was lucky enough to eat at Commander’s Palace and Antoine’s in New Orleans last year. But, at the same time, let’s take it easy. Accuse me of sour grapes all you want but here’s an analogy. In the world of wine, you can drink very well in the $35 to $100 range. A person need never go beyond that. Is that $2,000 bottle of Screaming Eagle 40 times better than a $50 bottle of Freemark Abbey or 20 times better than a $100 bottle of Caymus? Highly doubt it. Of course, if anyone wants to share that bottle of Screaming Eagle with me, I’ll take it and then spend the rest of my life telling everyone how superior I am.
Well, OK, 100% of us are never going to eat at El Bulli b/c it closed, but you get my point.