Jiro Dreams Of Sushi Director: David Gelb Genre: Documentary Running Time: 81 minutes Rated PG for mild thematic elements and brief smoking With: Jiro Ono, Yoshikazu Ono In Japanese with subtitles A bite-sized view of Japanese culture, Jiro Dreams of Sushi, is nearly as meticulous as its subjects, Jiro Ono and his Tokyo restaurant. The movie's first word is oishi, Japanese for "delicious," and what follows is a treat for sushi veterans. First-timers, however, may wish for a little more context. The crux of David Gelb's documentary can be expressed in numbers: Ono still works daily, although he was 85 when the movie was shot in 2010. His top-priced restaurant, Sukiyabashi Jiro, has but 10 seats, yet earned three Michelin stars. Small restaurants are common in Japan, as are family-run businesses like Ono's. But most modestly sized Japanese eateries don't draw gourmets from around the world, or charge upwards of $300 (depending, of course, on the exchange rate) for a 30-minute meal.

Ono's is a tale of discipline, ritual and obsessiveness, all of which are characteristic of Japanese craftsmen — especially the ones who had to rebuild their country and their lives after World War II. For Ono, who as a young boy was abandoned by his father, hard times started well before American bombs began falling on his homeland. Two of the movie's main supporting characters, Ono's sons, have a somewhat different perspective. They never experienced the deprivations that still motivate their father. But both have accepted Dad's profession and techniques. The older, Yoshikazu, is second-in-charge at the original restaurant, in the basement of an office building in the upscale Ginza district. He will replace his father when — or should that be if? — the old man retires. Takashi, who seems to have gotten the better deal, runs a more affordable branch of Sukiyabashi Jiro in Roppongi, a less staid Tokyo neighborhood. Gelb sometimes takes his digital camera outside the two restaurants, although only once to document a personal trip.

The movie's chief off-site destination is the city's massive, bustling Tsukuji market. Yoshikazu once dreamed of being a race-car driver; now he dutifully bicycles to nearby Tsukuji every morning to buy fish. sushi grade salmon adelaideThe family's dealings with merchants are revealing. sushi conveyor belt baltimoreJiro Ono may appear to be the ultimate traditionalist, yet the left-handed sushi master sees himself as something of a maverick. sushi grade fish rosevilleThe Onos buy from a demanding tuna dealer who's considered "anti-establishment." ninja sushi menu arlington tx

When Ono and a rice merchant discuss the worthiness of certain clients, the two sound more like cultists than connoisseurs. The movie's guide to such culinary arcana is Masuhiro Yamamoto, a restaurant critic who occasionally slips into English for such words as "perfectionist." youda sushi chef online completoIt's Yamamoto who oversees a meal that was arranged for the movie. ninja sushi menu arlingtonGelb didn't shoot during regular business hours, so the film lacks the spontaneity and serendipity of cinema-verite documentaries. The restaurant's course order is "like a concerto," we're told, and Gelb choreographs food-preparation sequences to the music of such methodical composers as Bach, Mozart and Philip Glass. The accompaniment is obtrusive at times, but its precise structures suit the movie's tidy outlook.

Even the seemingly fanciful title turns out to be entirely earnest: Ono says that he does indeed dream of raw fish and vinegared rice. In one of the Tsukuji scenes, the documentary concedes that the oceans are fast emptying of Sukiyabashi Jiro's crucial ingredients. But that's a rare moment when Jiro Dreams of Sushi acknowledges the world beyond Ono's fastidious 10-seat universe. Cameras Follow World's Greatest Sushi ChefHis restaurant serves only sushi. It has 10 seats at a counter. It is in the basement of a Tokyo high-rise, not far from a subway stop. It has been awarded three stars, the highest possible rating, by the Michelin Guide. David Gelb's "Jiro Dreams of Sushi" is a documentary about a man whose relationship with sushi wavers between love and madness. He is a perfectionist, never satisfied, and if you go to work for him as an apprentice, you will have to spend weeks learning how to squeeze out a towel properly before moving on to learn how to slice a hard-boiled egg. He agonizes about the placement of mats on his counter.

Great attention is paid to where along the counter the 10 customers are seated in relationship to one another. Jiro's 50-year-old son, Yoshikazu, works with him in the restaurant and will inherit it someday. A younger son runs an associated sushi bar elsewhere in Tokyo. At Jiro's, there is a three-month wait for a reservation. A typical meal will cost you more than $300. It will not take very long to eat.This is a portrait of tunnel vision. Jiro exists to make sushi. Sushi exists to be made by Jiro. Even at the high prices of his premium fresh ingredients, you realize he must be a rich man. But to what end? The existence of his sons are an indication that he has a wife, although we never see her. He must have a home, although we never visit it. There must be hours when he cannot be at work, but the film indicates no amusements, hobbies or pastimes. The idea of his courtship of his wife fascinates me: Forgive me, but I imagine that even while making love, he must be fretting about the loss of valuable sushi-making time.

As a documentary about world-class sushi, this film is definitive. It runs only 81 minutes, but the subject is finite. While watching it, I found myself drawn into the mystery of this man. Are there any unrealized wishes in his life? If you find an occupation you love and spend your entire life working at it, is that enough? Standing behind his counter, Jiro notices things. Some customers are left-handed, some right-handed. That helps determine where they are seated at his counter. As he serves a perfect piece of sushi, he observes it being eaten. He knows the history of that piece of seafood. He knows his staff has recently started massaging an octopus for 45 minutes and not half an hour, for example. Does he search a customer's eyes for a signal that this change has been an improvement? Half an hour of massage was good enough to win three Michelin stars. You realize the tragedy of Jiro Ono's life is that there are not, and will never be, four stars. The Unloved, Part 37: "Zabriskie Point" & "The Mystery of Oberwald"