Finally, All of Midnight Diner is on Netflix!!

Yes yes and yes. You all know how much I love Midnight Diner: Tokyo Stories Seasons 1 & 2 but we now have ALL the original seasons prior to the show’s move to Netflix. That’s three seasons worth of joy, drama and good eating with a proper introduction to the many patrons that frequent the Master’s storied meshiya. No more rewatches on crappy streams for me folks ‘cuz it’s all here in HD glory, ad-free! That’s a triple win if you ask me.

For those of you that are still new to Midnight Diner or are mildly curious, I’d highly recommend you start with these three seasons first before going into Tokyo Stories 1 and 2 since it provides more backstory on the many ‘regulars’ that you’ll find on the latter. For instance, have you ever wanted to know more about Marilyn, the show’s finger-lovin’ dancer who eats the same damn thing every time? Still hung up on the Master’s history with the mysterious lady who loves Nikujaga from the last episode of Tokyo Stories: Season 2? How are the Ochazuke Sisters like when they’re not eating Ochazuke? And who the hell is Erect Oki, and what’s his deal with potato salad? If you watched Tokyo Stories first like I did, then I’m sure you wondered why everyone’s so chummy with each other and now, you’ll see why. Furthermore, by watching it all in this order, you’ll be viewing it in the order of its original run when it first aired in 2009. Trust me on this folks. If you still haven’t seen Midnight Diner, there’s no better time than now to watch it here on Netflix.

Lastly, without spoiling too much, I wanna mention how much of a joy it is to see it all here during a time of duress. If you ever wanted something cozy yet engaging to watch while the rest of America is still arguing over face masks, then look no further. Not only does Midnight Diner’s first three seasons lay the groundwork for its eventual rise to greatness in Tokyo Stories, but you’ll get a glimpse as to how much the show had to fudge around to get its formula right. I find Tokyo Stories to be a much more smoother affair that eases you into things, whereas the previous seasons are rougher, edgier, and will plop you in the middle of a crisis. Moreover, while Tokyo Stories has more optimism in its proceedings , these three seasons focus more on the nocturnal pains of overwork, failure, and the drudgery of a broken heart. These themes reach their peak with the third season, which is filled with stories that give our cast no recourse, solace or closure. Overall I find that Tokyo Stories is a bit more warmer in sentiment than the first three seasons, yet they still provide good viewing for anyone seeking a glimpse into the hard luck lifestyle of Tokyo. And for a guy like me who’s itching to look away from the world of Covid-19, Shinya Shokudo’s a godsend.

Midnight Diner’s first three seasons aren’t without its flaws however. In addition to that aforementioned search for the perfect formula, the show has issues dealing with the seedier elements of its nightlife themes. We’ve got some real bastards here on Shinya Shokudo, with a few that are horribly misogynistic (a real issue that’s endemic in both Japan and Asia at large). Infidelity, exploitation and solicitation also rears its ugly head every so often, especially when it comes to an episode that focuses on Ikumi, a woman who’s secretly paying out her parents’ debts as a sex worker. It’s a great episode that shows how she needs no saving whatsoever, but it’s still punctuated by the fact that she had to make some hard choices for the sake of her family’s survival. Despite the excellent themes present in this particular episode, I do wish Shinya Shokudo could be a bit more forthcoming and critical about how patriarchy, destitution, sexism and abuse tear into the lives of its female characters instead of just showing us how they rise above it. That’s easy catharsis for sure, but a more critical lens can make that catharsis resonate even more, and would make for better character growth for all those involved.

In summary, Midnight Diner is a portrait of the downtrodden scouring the night for solace in a cold and unforgiving city. But for all the time spent mired in their friendships, failures and food-filled nostalgia, there are no solutions to be found here. For better or worse, Midnight Diner’s first three seasons are still slice-of-life dramas, and the exploitation, despair and heartache that each character faces is only mildly abated thanks to the skill of the Master. I sometimes wonder why I continue to watch this show, knowing that Shinya Shokudo refuses to tackle the ills of the world head-on, but maybe that’s the point. Life is shit sometimes, but maybe, just maybe, somebody will finally have their day and not look back. Maybe one of them will find a way out. Maybe that girl will finally leave that asshole for good. Maybe that old guy will stop cheating on his wife. Maybe those old folks will make up. Maybe those two young people will finally fall in love, and maybe she and him will get together despite their circumstances. Maybe we’ll all make it somehow and can leave the deeper examinations for another day.

Because in the end, that’s all any of us would want.

Naika Reviews “Tampopo”

There is no greater film about food than Tampopo.  Period.  I’ve never seen Ramen Girl or Spanglish, nor have I raided my Barnes & Noble for Babette’s Feast.  Noodles, whether it’s ramen, liangpi, pho, char kuay teow, boat noodles, pancit and so on and so forth, have now found a place in the American food landscape, and there’s no better way to celebrate that than to savor the flavors of this movie.  In my youth, Tampopo was this mysterious film that would just sit in my video store, waiting to be discovered.  My brother and I finally rented the DVD in the 2000s and we were literally BLOWN AWAY.  You have to understand that for Asian-Americans like us, there was literally no respectful representation of Asian food in American TV or film.  Tampopo, however, was different.  Tampopo wasn’t just an indie darling, or some East Asian village flick that stoked white audiences’ “allure for the Orient.”  It was a daring, modern-day comedy that asked you to not only take food seriously, but to realize that serious people make it their life’s work to make good food for you.

But let’s take a step back and shoot the shit about the details.  Tampopo, for all the adjectives I’ve provided on the last paragraph, is, to its core, a movie about a struggling business.  Our title character is a working class Mom who’s struggling to keep her late husband’s ramen-ya afloat, and it’s only through a combo of factors that she runs into the gruff, cowboy trucker named Goro.  After sharing his thoughts about how bad her ramen is, Tampopo becomes driven to make her business shine and enlists the man’s help to fire it all up.  After giving her a few tips, Goro soon goes to work in getting our lovable Mom into fighting shape.  Literally.  Either through jogging, pot lifting relays or ramen assembly speedruns, Tampopo’s journey to become a true noodle artisan is just packed with so much fun that even the pickiest of viewers will watch.

This leads us to the next big reason why Tampopo is such a fun flick: she ISN’T the only focus here!  Throughout the course of the movie, we’re treated to a wealth of vignettes from foreground characters who all have their own food journeys to share.  Some of these include a dim sum consumer with a toothache, a con man with a knack for Peking Duck and a stuffy Europhile whose course on pasta etiquette goes south for all the right reasons.  And, without giving away too much, let’s not forget the amazing Koji Yakusho with his portrayal as a scene-stealing gangster whose eye for food is second to none.  Thanks to these stories, Tampopo transcends its former status as a ‘Ramen Western’ into a full-blown celebration of Japan’s urban food scene in the 1980s.

However, Japan’s pre-bubble food scene wouldn’t have been what it was without the allure of Ramen and its status as blue collar cuisine.  When the film does shift back to Tampopo , we see how much consideration goes into every single element of a bowl of ramen.  From the texture of the noodles to the details of making the right broth, Tampopo’s desire to become a top chef reveals that making ramen isn’t just some process that comes out of a pot or a microwave; it’s the ultimate reflection of working class Asia, where humble, hard-working customers demand genuine food from genuine people.

The times, however, have changed.  This is 2018, and, unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last thirty years, ramen is in the big leagues now.  That being said, Tampopo functions as a window into a not-so-distant past devoid of Yelp, overseas ramen-ya and our predisposition for Michelin stars.

All in all, Tampopo is a paean to the epicure in all of us, showing us firsthand that ‘slinging hash’ isn’t just a way to get by, but a chance to express ourselves through senses beyond sight and hearing.  Even though we’re unable to smell or taste what’s on screen, Tampopo is a visual feast that stokes both our hunger and curiosity without the need for explanations.  This is especially the case when it comes to the preparation of dishes that aren’t ramen, including omelette rice and Korean barbecue.  However, despite these gorgeous gourmet scenes, this film has more to offer than meets the eye.  When we get to the meat of it, Tampopo is, at its core, a heart-warming study on the values of passion and cultivation.  This is best exemplified through our title character’s own journey, where she transforms herself from a sullen cook and widow into a passionate, knowledgeable and vibrant chef whose determination and resilience blossoms beyond the evolution of her ramen.  From here, we can safely say that Juzo Itami’s film isn’t just an ode to the gourmet in all of us.  It’s a potent and vibrant reminder about our capacity to savor the tangible, to love furiously, to share joy with others and to realize just how timeless exuberance can be in the pursuit of mastery.