Jiro Dreams of Sushi

In order to make delicious food, you must eat delicious food.  The quality of ingredients is important, but one must develop a palate capable of discerning good and bad.  Without good taste, you can't make good food.  If your sense of taste is lower than that of the customers how will you impress them?

Eighty-something Jiro Ono has been mastering his craft since he left home, at the age of ten.  He tells of how his parents, unlike those of today, offered no safety net if he failed and wanted to return.  He did not.  After delivering meals to those drafted into WWII, Jiro began to hone his skills making sushi.  Years later, his Tokyo restaurant, which has only ten seats and requires reservations at least one month in advance, is considered one of the best in the world, earning the very coveted three stars in the Michelin guide.

Jiro and his son, Yoshikazu, his likely successor, stand in front of their customers as they serve a procession of twenty small offerings, some of which are identified onscreen in the 2011 documentary JIRO DREAMS OF SUSHI.  All look amazing, especially on Blu-ray.  But several customers and at least one food critic describe how intimidating the experience at Sukiabashi Jiro can be.  The latter remarks that if you like to eat fast, it's OK.  If you like to linger and talk with friends, it can be stressful.

I could relate.  Back in the 1990s I went to a small, very expensive sushi bar in Manhattan and felt eyes lasering on my every bite.  One chef also scoffed at one of my not so adventurous choices.  Maybe they were as fussy as Jiro, who insists the octopus be scrubbed for nearly an hour before it is suitable for consumption. The rice is put through a meticulous irrigation.  It could be months before he lets an apprentice even handle an egg.  Will that fish ever be sliced thinly enough?

Does Yoshikazu want to continue the tradition? He dutifully describes the life he has chosen, originally desiring to be a race car driver.  He was initially not so sure of his choice ("for the first two years, I wanted to run away.") but would become a master in his own right, even if the customers are disappointed if he is handing over the lean or fatty tuna instead of his father.  Is the sushi really that much more amazing when Jiro's pupils and irises bead on you?  Will the legacy truly continue?

Jiro's younger son, Takashi, went off and opened his own restaurant in another part of town.  His sushi earned two stars.  He seems very happy.  Yoshikazu, not so much.  Sad resignation.  Maybe his countenance masks a joyful spirit? I got the impression he fell into the career, became proficient and the years raced by before he could learn to do anything else.  As Jiro states, his son, in order to achieve the level of excellence he has, will have to do nothing else for the rest of his life.

Director David Gelb's JIRO DREAMS OF SUSHI is an engrossing, if a bit repetitive and overlong, celebration of a simple man with extremely high standards.  He is one of those individuals who has reached the pinnacle of his craft through endless hard work and singlemindedness, but also from innate talent.  Jiro admits he was "a bad father". Probably a bad husband, too.  You've heard the stories of those who excel in their field, leaving everything else to suffer.  For them, family and friends are not necessarily paramount, or even a goal at all, except perhaps to perpetuate a near impossible standard.