JIRO DREAMS OF SUSHI: Can you love your job too much?

Jiro Dreams of Sushi

The title of  the 2011 documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi is not surreal, it's descriptive. The 85-year-old master chef the film follows defines himself completely by and through his work, down to the subconscious. Told by his father AT 9 YEARS OLD that he had no home to come back to and had to make his own way in Tokyo, Jiro Ono apprenticed himself to a sushi chef, and is now considered to be the finest in the world, earning three Michelin stars. The film begs the question, though, is it a blessing or a curse to fall in love with your job?

Herbert Marcuse bemoans the unsatisfying nature of work in the modern age in Eros and Civilization, a post-Freudian look at what makes people sick in a capitalistic society.

That's right. It just got Frankfurt School up in here.

Not only Jiro, but many of the chefs and food dealers featured in Jiro Dreams of Sushi seem to have escaped this element of modern life entirely. Perhaps that's because they are not laborers, but artists.

With the surest and gentlest hands you can imagine.

It seems quite apparent that Jiro will die the instant he stops creating sushi, and his two sons also light up when they talk about their craft, even when describing the difficulty of working for their father, a man who does not settle for less than perfection. A tuna trader in the film, who could probably also serve as the subject of a fascinating documentary, explains his philosophy this way: "Out of all the tuna, there is one that is the best. If it's not there, I buy nothing."

Said tuna dealer deciding whether this is the best tuna.

The entire film makes perfection seem like a choice this simple. The sushi Jiro and his sons create (which is the only appropriate verb for it) are elegant and spare--you won't find a Halloween-themed zombie roll at Jiro's ten-seat, $300-per-person restaurant. But the dish has a history-- fish massaged for 50 minutes, marinated for ten days--that enriches its flavor. Seeing his devotion to making something beautiful that is by beautiful necessity destined to be destroyed was exhilarating, and the filmmakers do an excellent job letting the simple shots of sushi inversely suggest the complexity of its taste.

The chef's own history and interiority isn't nearly as interesting to him. Does Jiro have a wife? Who knows. Do his sons? Who knows. All that matters is the work. Jiro speaks to his sons, and loves his sons, through their shared calling and the beauty of what they create. But I was left wondering if families can live on bread, or fish, alone.

That's kind of heavy. Let's end on some more food porn.

A Trilogy of Fan Flicks Part 3: The Return of the TREKKIES

Trekkies 2

In case anybody is worried, you do NOT have to have seen Trekkies, The Original Documentary, to enjoy Trekkies 2. It's sort of like Troll and Troll 2 in that way.

Thankfully (or not?) that's pretty much the only way it's like Troll 2

Trekkies 2 does take up the general raison d'etre of the original, following Denise Crosby as she interviews fans of all the iterations of Star Trek.

And we all try not to be distracted by her breasts.

After watching Room 237 and Bronies: Incredibly Long Subtitle, I have to admit being slightly underwhelmed by Trekkies 2. Sure, it's amusing to revisit some of our favorites from Trekkies: TOD:

Hey, Gabriel!

Remember the Whitewater juror who showed up in uniform? No? Remember Whitewater? Exactly.

And Crosby takes Trekkies 2 international, visiting fans in places expected (England) and un- (Serbia!). But she doesn't bring anything new to the story or the phenomenon of Trekkers (my dad assures me this is the correct terminology, so I'm sticking with it), or the style of documentary filmmaking, for that matter. I could have done without the endless talking heads and the references to the first film, which come off as at best filler and at worst self-serving. Really, the only reason to watch Trekkies 2 is the music.

The film profiles a matrix of bands from Sacramento that write and perform Star Trek-themed music of varying genres and quality. Their names all reference the classic TOS episode "The Devil in the Dark" (No Kill I, No Kill I: The Next Generation), and seem to be comprised entirely of people who might not be able to play their instruments, but with whom it would be fun to have a beer. Here's a sample:

Additionally, Trekkies 2 features some bitchin' filk music.

There. Now you don't have to put it on your queue at all.

A Trilogy of Fan Flicks Episode II: The BRONIES Strike Back

Stream it here

Full disclosure: My domestic partner and I streamed this one with the intention of making fun of it. We were looking forward to it, actually, but were only mildly disappointed when we ended up being way more moved than amused by the way the movie shows that being a fan of something, anything, is a way to discover the truest and best version of yourself.

First, the Ick Factor:

You know this is what you initially pictured.

Bronies doesn't (Flutter)shy away from addressing the fact that many people are made quite uncomfortable by the thought of post-adolescent men and boys watching a show designed and marketed for young girls. (For the uninitiated, a "brony" is defined as a post-pubescent male fan of the reboot of the My Little Pony television series called Friendship Is Magic. It totally streams too if you want to get a taste.) On the contrary, the movie investigates the cultural assumptions about gender and sexuality that underpin that response. Why are we not similarly disturbed by the idea of older men (or women) watching a television show or movie that is marketed towards young boys, for example? Why does it matter that all the main characters are female? Cross-gender identification is something that is expected of girls, but culturally suspect for boys. This PBS Idea Channel (Do you watch Idea Channel? You should. It's smart and way more theoretically sophisticated than it has to be.) episode is a particularly smart take on the gender play of bronies:

It's unsurprising, therefore, that many of the bronies describe severe anxiety about telling their friends and family about their devotion to the show, and several of the subjects the documentary features suffer emotional and physical repercussions, ranging from a father's tacit disapproval to death threats (thanks, small town in North Carolina).

Get over it, Hank.

It's also unsurprising, therefore, that Bronies conventions in Europe and the U.S. provide a desperately needed safe communal space for fans to affirm that they aren't alone in this. Anyone who has been to any kind of convention (with the possible exception of the soul-compressing nightmarescape that is MLA) can relate--it's a powerful and, dare I say, magical experience to find your tribe.

The strength of Bronies is in this affirmation of the way fandom, whether online or physical, isn't isolating or strange but rather a way to connect with others and your own authentic self. The film looks at men and women who were inspired to become artists and writers because of My Little Pony, and one fan with Asberger's who confronts some of his deepest phobias to make it to a convention.

Brohoof, dude.

The strength of Bronies is NOT in convincing the viewer that Friendship Is Magic is some sort of genius show--really, how good could the writing be?--but that's really not the point. The show is a space, not an artifact--a pastel-tinged gathering place for people to be creative and connect with each other. And let's be honest, there are creepers and weirdos in every fan community.

Yeah. He's totally getting his ears surgically elfed.

Give Bronies a stream and see if, at the very least, it doesn't give you the wiggins.

Also, this guy is in it. I'm told that's very important.