It's Rhaaaw!!! (A Continuation Of The Japan Experience)

What's in a sushi? What's in eating raw food? Is it about texture? taste? the fear factor?

I remember the first time I tried raw fish. Sashimi. Tuna.  Zambales. 1992.

It was the wedding of my cousin's cousin from the father side. I was then living in the house of my father's sister in Marikina, my aunt. They invited me to come with them to Zambales.

Being Ilonggo, it was my first time to attend a traditional Tagalog wedding so I went. It's not as if I had a choice. If I didn't go, I would have been left all alone in Marikina and I dreaded the idea of being alone for a night.

I don't really know how we ended up in Zambales. I have no such memory. The only recollection I have of that day was the nighttime. We were in an open field near the house of the bride and there was a small hut in the middle. Incandescent, warm lights scatter on different areas. Just a few to light the pathways and the structures around the place. Everything else was in pitch black. Music was playing and the bride and groom were dancing in the middle of the hut and the older relatives would pin some cash on their clothes as they move in circles as everyone crowd around them.

I was having beer while watching the dance all by myself. I didn't know anyone there except the cousins I went with. But, of course, as soon as my cousins got there, they all went with their other cousins whom I didn't know at all.  So, practically, I was all alone having my beer, feigning enjoyment.

Believe it or not but I used to be a shy, insecure kid unlike my older brother Kenneth who can go to our family reunion and get to know everyone from the distant Uncles and Aunties to the new born grandson. Being a country boy, I'm not one to approach someone I just met and start talking about anything.

That's why I marvel at my kids now how comfortable they are in gatherings. You bring them to a gathering, leave them around children their age and suddenly they can play and have fun without any awkward moment whatsoever.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying the "kipkip" dance of the bride and groom except me. I emptied my beer in no time. Thinking that it was my chance to actually do something, I left to go to the house to get a bottle of beer.

On the way to the house, trying to kill as much time, my cousin of the same age, Obet, called me to join them. I decided to join them knowing fully that anywhere in that place would have resulted in that same lonely, out of place feeling.

As I slowly approached them, in the warm chiaroscuro light hitting them, they all looked like a bunch of bloodthirsty aswangs.  Lit only by the spill of light from the pathways, they were drinking in a circle with their other cousins and I can hear a rhythmic sound of chopping. From behind the circle I can see a suggestion of a knife being raised chopping something on the table in front of them. As I got closer, I saw a tuna fish around 4-feet long with it's head chopped off. There was a pool of blood on the table and the guy chopping was already filleting the loin of the fish. Small slices of raw tuna meat were placed on a plate and everyone was picking a slice and dipping it on a soy sauce bowl. Looking at the faces of everyone laughing and grabbing the slices and shoving it in their mouths with just this warm spill of faint light on their faces really made them look like ravenous cannibals. It was my first time to see raw fish being eaten. And I was grossed out.

The first time I felt the slithering texture of tuna sashimi sliding in my mouth, I thought I was going to throw up. I don't really mind fencing my tongue against a woman's tongue but even if the tuna is similar in texture, the thought of a raw piece of meat for the first time in your mouth with blood and all, is not my idea of good food. Sashimi is really an acquired taste.

Shibuya, Tokyo.  

Fast forward to 2011.  Japan. I promised myself that this time around, I will have a sushi odyssey.

The first thing you see coming out of Ikebukuro station.

A street in Ikebukuro

 We arrived in Ikebukuro, Tokyo, where our hotel was, on November 4 around 3pm. After checking in and dropping our bags off, we went around the area to see what's there.

The lousy kaiten sushi bar.

 For dinner, we passed by a kaiten sushi bar, one of those regular sushi places where the customer can pick and choose their sushi on a conveyor belt. I was so excited to try my sushi experience first thing as soon as I hit Tokyo. I know that kaiten sushis are the fast food version of good sushi.  But this is Japan! Certainly, sushi everywhere should be good. I was mistaken. Not every Japanese food in Japan is good. Not all the adobo in Manila is good. This one failed big time. The sushi was fishy. Too many fancy combinations.

The picture says it all.

Left-overs

I should have seen it coming. It was Bourdain who warned me about never trusting a restaurant that complicates a simple dish. Smoked salmon with mayo and leek sushi. Rubbery octopus meat with teriyaki sauce. It was bad. Lesson was: be patient, don't rush. For every pain, for every wrong choice, it just makes you a bit more careful the next time. That kaiten sushi experience, according to Miyagi-san, was a necessary mistake. "One needs to fall down on their knees in order to see the world from another perspective." 

Harajuku street on a weekend.

The next sushi experience was a bit thought out. Although still an accident, since the restaurant we went to was not sought out, I was more careful before entering the doors. This one now is in Omotesando Hills, the pricey mall strip in Harajuku.

A sushi bar in a high-end district, check! The sign says, "Since 1924.", check! A restaurant lasting for almost 90 years must be doing good food to last this long.

The sushi man.

We actually didn't decide to enter the place immediately. There was something that made me think twice about getting in. I was looking at the people sitting inside and I noticed that most of the customers were Caucasian foreigners. I always go with the foodie tip to go to restaurants where a lot of locals frequent and not on places that could be tourist traps. But what made me decide to go for it were the sushi makers on the bar. Every time I see old Japanese cooks and sushi makers in a restaurant, it always makes me feel that I'll be in good hands. There is that zen-wisdom, Yoda-esque feel to having an old guy take care of your food.

I am no sushi connoisseur but it was in this Omotesando sushi place that I realized that the Ikebukuro kaiten sushi bar sucked.

The handsome salmon and scallop with the toro tuna at the end.

That sushi stop was supposed to be dessert. We just finished eating a late lunch in a Japanese pasta place and was looking for coffee and dessert. It was a good thing we stumbled upon this place. For such a sleek looking restaurant, I was surprised that it was family-owned. And family-owned restaurants in Asia usually turn out to be really good eating places. Better than those high-end, factory-type, corporation-owned eateries.

The waiter was a revelation. He was a Japanese guy who was not wearing a waiter's uniform. He was vocal about the best choices for sushi volunteering the fish that he wants us to try. And since his choices weren't the pricey ones, we figured that this guy must be genuinely giving us some really good suggestions. As it turns out, he was the son of the sushi masters that own the place.  The yellow fin tuna with fresh yuzu sushi he recommended was memorable.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Watch It For What It Is

I know this post might be coming in a bit too late but I recently read the reviews on the movie "Rakenrol" and I just felt the need to write about it.

"Rakenrol" is a movie directed by Quark Henares co-produced by our company Reality Entertainment with Furball, Quark's company.

I don't want to sound defensive...no...yes, I am defending it.  I am defending it not because I co-produced it.  I could never care less.  We also produced "Binibining K" (Binibining what? Yeah, I know.  You guys haven't seen it.  Good!) way back and I even wrote the story but I'll be the first to admit that it's crappy.  So no, I am defending Rakenrol because I truly think it's a good film.

It's not a masterpiece, granted.  Hell, no artist ever claims that he's making a masterpiece. Quark never claimed he was making one.  He just made a movie that he wants to make.

"Rakenrol" was a movie straight out of Quark's "Super Noypi" disappointment.  Quark approached me about a script he wants to shoot and asked if our company would be interested to co-produce it.  He sent me the script.  I read it and I liked it.  I may not know a lot about local music but I liked how Quark and his co-writer Diego Castillo laid down the characters of the movie.  What I liked about it is in its honesty of the kind of movie that it is. Quark said that it's about a bunch of people trying to form a band and it follows the pains, the craziness, the loves and the joys that the group goes through.  

We've seen movies like this.  We all love these feel good movies.  Movies with characters that are trying to prove their worth to the world.  "The Commitments" by Alan Parker, "Revenge Of The Nerds",  "Reality Bites", "Cool Runnings".  It's not new.  But what I like about the script of Rakenrol is that it's uniquely Quark.  I can see him in the movie.  And that's my gauge of a good script, if the author imparts something of himself in the material. Shallow or deep, the quirkiness, the romance, the humor and the heart of "Rakenrol" is truly Quark.  That's why I pushed my partners in our company to co-finance the movie and produce it.

I am not a groupie of Quark.  In fact, I don't like "Gamitan".  I felt it was derivative and was not coming from any local insight on the Filipino psyche whatsoever.  I liked "Keka", a lot.   Quark has a way with his characters.  They all seem very real to him.  We may not know who these characters are but to Quark, it sure feels like he knows who they are inside out.  

That's one of the things the critics say that they don't like about "Rakenrol".  That the characters were not fleshed out fully.  But for movies of this genre, the characters are essentially archetypes and that's it.  But look at the work that went through with the actors playing the characters in "Rakenrol".  They are spot on.  The nuances are so fucking good that I even asked Quark how he was able to make them do it with such grace and ease (except for Ramon Bautista. I really think he can't do gay!).  To be fair, having these characters work so well together, the performances and with that chemistry is something to be impressed about.  I think it should have been singled out.  

Even the storytelling, the film language (except for the Genta Ogami plot angle which I feel is dated) had a lot of thought into it given the limited resources of the movie.  I think it should have been pointed out as well.  The soundtrack is just memorable and just right in pushing the emotion and the energy of the movie.  But no one talks about any of this.  Have we become so numb of watching too many local movies that have crappy film aesthetics that we are now just watching movies only for what it's trying to say and not on how it's told using the medium?

What I also like about the movie is that it did a genre rock band movie exactly the way a genre rock band movie should be done.  Only that it's Quark's way.  His own take on it.  I hate to go watch a movie that promises to be a horror movie only to see that it's actually just a psychological thriller.  Nowadays, I don't know why people tend to shy away from making genre movies.  "Serious" indie filmmakers tend to see genre as something beneath them. Why? Where did this loathing for genre come from?  Have we watched too many Cinemalaya/Cinemaone/Cinemanila movies that watching a genre movie isn't satisfying enough anymore?  Wouldn't it be more of a question on your skill as a filmmaker when you're asked to do an action movie and you deliver, instead, this pseudo-intellectual discourse on peace in the midst of war?  Rather than doing a genre movie that's asked of you and do it as good as you can better than anything that's been done on that genre? 

Most of the critics mentioned that "Rakenrol" wasn't personal enough.  Who are we to say that?  Just because it's light and funny doesn't mean it's not personal to Quark.  And whether it's personal to the filmmaker or not, is beside the point of movie watching.  Why can't we just enjoy watching movies for what it is?  Does one have to say something deep and affecting in a movie to make it personal? 

"Rakenrol", some say, is not about music.  So what?  Quark never claimed he was making "Bird" or "The Cotton Club".  How much of music do we need to hear to be able to call it a music movie?  Do we need a separate sequence on how the band decides on a tune?  Do we necessarily have to see them discuss the meaning of music in their lives?  

I once gave a talk in Ateneo that the problem with most critics in the Philippines is that they don't know how to "critique".  That they are mostly film reviewers.  Alexis Tioseco, who I didn't know then, was seated in the room and asked me why I think so.  I explained that a good critic, would see a movie based on the filmmaker's body of work and not just by his individual works.  Meaning, with Rakenrol for example, the movie should be seen based on the filmmaker's previous works.  And it speaks so much about what kind of movies Quark is interested in making.  And we should see it from that perspective and critic him in that context.  

As a viewer and a critic (in a lecture-ly tone), our job is to take the movie for what it is and analyze it for what it only is and not for what it's not.  Once a critic starts offering suggestions on what the movie should and should not have then that's not the critic speaking anymore but the frustrated filmmaker in him.  But in this day and age where everyone can speak his mind anywhere and everywhere on the net, what right do I have to tell anyone the step-by-step guideline to good film criticism?

I respect only a few local directors.  Quark is one of them.  I respect him, just like Rico Ilarde and Jon Red, for doing the kinds of movies they want to make.  No agenda.  And in this present landscape of "cinema of intention", where movies are hailed because mainly of the weight of its meaning and importance, it takes a lot of courage, conviction and honesty from these guys to go against the grain and do the kind of movies they do.  To do movies about an ex-girlfriend, about a day at school, about mixing the monsters and the ghosts.  I respect them for that as much as I respect Lav Diaz' conviction on doing his movies longer than what people expect them to be.

Every filmmaker have their hits and misses.  Some are good and some not so good.  But it's in the honesty of the filmmaker's filmmaking where respect is really won in the end.  Quark chose to make a little charming movie Rakenrol in the midst of almost everyone in the industry scampering to do some socially relevant, self-reflective, cultural, deeply meaningful, "important" films.  That's something to be lauded.

Why are we so forgiving about other indie movies and not of Quark Henares?  Is it because Quark, despite his apparent available resources, didn't make an important film worthy of Cannes' notice? 

Making a movie is not easy.  It can't be just about meaningful ideas that you want to convey. There's actual work that's really involved in making it.  With Rakenrol, the actual work is really on how it was put together.  And to me, that's enough to be commended about any movie out there.    

As in Stephen Sondheim's Putting It Together: 

Bit by bit, putting it together

Piece by piece, only way to make a work of art

Every moment makes a contribution

Every little detail plays a part

Having just a vision's no solution

Putting it together (That's what counts)

Art isn't easy

Every minor detail

Is a major decision

Have to keep things in scale

Have to hold on to your vision

It takes a lot of careful assessment  to comment and analyze other people's work.  One has to look at the particular work from all angles before making any sweeping judgment.  I, myself, take serious thought before giving judgments on anything I write on this blog just to, at least, try to be fair and balanced.  And I am not even a critic.

There is a big responsibility that rests on the film critic's shoulder because the weight of their words matter to the reading and viewing public.

"In many ways, the work of a critic is easy.  We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment.  We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read.  But the bitter truths we, critics, must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so..."

There, I said it.

A Few Things Made Better Than So Many Things Made Badly

Osaka Station, Osaka.  November 3, 2011.  Almost 10 p.m.

We have just arrived from Kansai where we landed from Manila.  Just like last year's trip, Michiko and I didn't make any plans for this first night when we get to Osaka.  The next day we will be off to Tokyo for a 6-night stay before we go back to Osaka again for another 5 nights.

We always assign this arrival night as the adventure time.  As someone who is not really too adventurous with any sort of extreme sport or leisure, a night without hotel and itinerary is already my idea of a great adventure.

Upon exiting Osaka station, we just walked straight crossing whatever street that's ahead of us.  We are looking for a good dining place.  That's first.  Sleeping place is second.  But for now, filling up the tummy is top of mind.

On the first cross, we already passed a commercial building.  How do I know?  Because there's a Starbucks Coffeeshop in the corner.

Like most commercial buildings in Japan, there is always a restaurant floor in there somewhere.  Either on the top floor or in the basement.  With this one, it was in the basement.  So off we went down the escalator.  Everything's closed.  Lots of pictures and plastic food "sculptures" on the shop windows but everything is closed.  We went up again.

We continued our walk towards the inner part of the streets.  One key rule in looking for restaurants in Japan is to go for the side streets.  I don't know why but most of the restaurants, if they're not inside a building, are most probably behind the main streets.  They line up one after the other.  And mind you, they're quite aware of competition.  Every restaurant or izakaya does not sell the same kind of Japanese food when they're beside each other.  One place serves tempura or tonkatsu, next one all sushi, the next soba, after that is a grill place and then some ramen house, and then the next set of stalls will repeat the cycle of types of food being served.

We found the nearest side street and walked around.  It was a quiet night.  The street is almost empty.  This is unlike the Dotonbori district in the heart of Osaka where it is just bustling with people.  That was a lazy night by Osaka standards.  

We found this quaint little place towards the end of the street.  We didn't know anything about it except that we kinda liked the pictures outside and decided to give it a try.  The pictures showed a ramen, a bowl of rice with EEEGGG and a tray of Gyoza.

Inside, except for the man cook and a lady waitress (sort of), we were the only ones inside.  When we sat down, the waitress gave us a menu that looks exactly like the placard outside the resto except that it's smaller.  We asked for an English menu and she said there's none.  Not knowing what else is written in that one-page menu, we decided it would be easier to just order the pictures.  So we ordered all that was pictured in the menu: the ramen, the bowl of EEEGGG rice and the gyoza.  No Coke.  Just tea.  Off the waitress went and handed the order to the cook.  She then brought out a tray and a container and started making gyoza, fresh.  Woooot!  The lady waitress doubles as a gyoza maker too.

The ramen was good.  It had the basic boiled pork belly on it and the classic leeks.  But this one had a soft-boiled egg in it.  Shit!  Egg!  Perfect!

The bowl of egg rice was simple and heavenly.  The eggs were wet and mushy laid on top of fried rice.  The fried rice was mixed with shoyu, burnt spring onions and a bit of garlic.  Oishii!

Finally, the gyoza made by that lady waitress.  Hmmmm, it was just OK.  The meat filling was a mush although the casing had a nice texture.  But I've tasted better gyozas before.

As our food were served, two groups of black suited working Japanese men entered and took the two tables of this 4-table hole-in-the-wall.  We wanted to find out what they ordered so we waited a bit to see what they had.  They all ordered the same ramen we did.  That's it!  Ramen only.  Plus a glass of beer each.

This is what I love about Japan.  They have these small stalls that only serve one kind of food; the food that they're good at.  They don't venture for any other types of food just to give their customers choices.  They only serve what they know how to do best and that's it.  Nothing more.

In this small place, they only serve three things in there and those types of food are not even the most complicated to do.  With ramen, they just have a stock that's boiling the whole time.  A portioned noodles in plastic containers.  Pre-cooked super tender pork belly and freshly cut leeks.  For the egg dish, it was just the egg and the fried rice.  The gyoza was the most complicated there.  But the meat filling is already prepared earlier.  It's the wrapping it by hand that makes it a bit more complicated than the other two dishes they serve.

Those three dishes plus 4 tables and they have a restaurant already.

Akihabara station.  November 7, 2011.  10:20 p.m.

After a long day at Yodobashi building going from one floor to the next looking at all the electronic stuff in there, it was time to go back to our hotel in Ikebukuro.  Akihabara is around 14 stops to Ikeburo.  That's quite a trip.  So before going into the train, I made a quick nicotine break just outside the station.

Right beside where I was smoking, there was a small van parked on the corner with quite a line of people waiting.  Michiko and I were curious to see what it was so we took a closer look.

Inside the van was a guy making crepes.  The kind of crepes that's very Japanese.  The one with the fruits, a bit of chocolate and an ice cream on top of it.  The crepe is not even really a crepe.  It's more like a softer barquillos (this tubular sweet, flaky delight from my hometown).

Anyway, this guy was going at the crepe-making all by himself.  Lay down the crepe mixture on the round, flat pan to cook it.  Place the whipped cream from the piping bag, smother it with chocolate sauce, put a few banana slices, top it with a scoop of ice cream, wrap the crepe around the filling, cover it with a paper napkin and serve it.  One after the next they were being served the same way with the same precise movement of the crepe maker.  It helps a lot that he's playing loud music in his van.  He makes the crepes almost to the beat of the music playing.

We were thinking, this guy could have been here the whole day serving the same thing to a line of people, listening to music to keep him going.  And when he's done, he'll just hop into the front seat and drive away.

I've tried one of these crepes in Osaka last year.  It wasn't really my kind of thing.  I'd still go for Cafe Breton's basic sugar and butter crepe over this.  But the Japanese sure loves it.

This guy only makes crepes and yet he manages to make a living out of it.  And he has a line of people to prove it.  A van, some music and just loads of crepes all day long is enough.

TO BE CONTINUED...