Tag Archives: Japan

Movie Review: The Wolverine

After watching The Wolverine, I’m starting to doubt my power to give any superhero movie a fair review. Am I that biased? Have decades of reading comic books left me unable to separate the good from the garbage? I mean, yes, I loved Dark Knight Rises. Like, I really, really, really loved Dark Knight Rises. But I thought Daredevil was pretty cool. And Thor. And Iron Man 3. And Spider-Man 3. And X-Men 3.

the wolverine

And The Wolverine. I was watching that movie in the theater, sitting there, thinking to myself, man, this is a pretty cool movie. Pretty badass. Even when Wolverine got escorted through security, and the guards are waving the metal detectors all over his body, and all of the readings are off, you know, he’s got that metal skeleton and everything, and he says, “hip replacement,” I was like, well, OK, yeah, that’s kind of cheesy, but it’s still OK. I mean, yeah, he does have a metal skeleton and I’m sure that’s got to be annoying after a while, constantly trying to explain himself.

And then much later in the movie when he’s trying to get through airport security and the machine’s going nuts, and he’s just like, “I want the pat-down,” it’s like, really? Two metal detector jokes? But maybe it’s not a joke, maybe they’re just really driving home the point that, if you had a metal skeleton, this is what you’d have to deal with on a regular basis, deal with it. And that’s kind of like a really hard directorial trick, right? Like getting us really inside the character’s head?

But I’m jumping ahead. It starts in the woods somewhere. The Wolverine is sleeping outside, not like in a tent or anything, but just right outside. And he’s got a severe case of PTSD. But that’s OK too, because he’s sworn off killing, a solemn vow as he calls it. Except, there’s this guy in the woods who shoots this bear that the Wolverine has befriended, and that kind of sets him off, like it’s just the right offense to make him forget his solemn vow.

But that’s kind of believable, I mean, if I were living in the woods by myself, with a big beard and long hair, and a stupid little radio that runs on size D batteries, batteries that kept dying way too fast, so fast that I’d have to walk all the way into town and buy just one two-pack of batteries and then walk all the way back to the woods, and my only friend was a bear, and somebody shot my friend, I guess I’d be pissed. Yeah, that makes sense.

We’re out of the woods soon enough. The Wolverine’s got some business to attend to in Japan. Some guy that the Wolverine saved from the atom bomb in Nagasaki wants to say thank you, and goodbye, and also, sit still for a second so I can steal your healing powers, please. The whole rest of the movie takes place in Japan, showing off everything as Japanese as you might imagine: ninjas, samurais, secret orders of the black clan, marrying the Minister of Justice to help out with your family’s honor, getting scolded for leaving your chopsticks sticking out of your bowl of rice. It’s all very authentic. And very picturesque too.

In the comics, Wolverine does spend some time in Japan, and he winds up getting involved with a woman named Mariko. I only mention this because, when you see Mariko and Wolverine suddenly fall in love, the only reason that makes sense as to where the out-of-nowhere mutual attraction arose from is, well, it happened in the comics, so there you go, it’s happening in this movie also. But whatever, it’s love at first sight. That’s no reason to criticize a movie. In fact, it’s just another added dimension to the film. Look at me, I’m practically a romantic over here, gushing about true love.

There’s some blond villain named Viper. It’s one of those names that she kind of gives herself while she does this speech explaining her powers, more or less, “I possess the ability to manufacture any type of poison. Also, I’m immune to every class of venom. I guess you could say I’m a … Viper.” And it just takes off, because soon random Japanese people are referring to her as capital V Viper in their English subtitles.

But I can’t knock it. That’s her name, it’s Viper. That’s who she is. Who am I to judge her name, how she dresses? Hell, if I were a blond super villain named Viper, I’d probably only wear green also. Like green leather pants, and green tank tops. And then green dresses later on, and green eye shadow. That’s her thing, she wears green, like a snake, like a green viper. And she has that viper tongue, it’s always like slithering out of her mouth. She’s like a snake lady.

And then, I don’t know, there’s fighting and stuff. And there’s some sort of a plan to kidnap a granddaughter to trick the son, who in turn is using the fiancé, all in an effort to get back at the grandfather, I think. And the Wolverine is there. And he does this crazy fight scene on top of a three hundred mile per hour train.

It’s awesome! That’s probably all that it is, it’s just a truly great movie. I’m here doubting my reviewing skills, but it’s not me, it’s not me just blindly slapping a seal of approval on all projects Marvel. No, The Wolverine must have been a truly amazing movie. Some things don’t need to make sense. Or some things probably do make sense, it’s just my fault for not really getting them. Like when the Viper lady gets stabbed in the heart and dies, why is she able to peel off her skin and restart her pulse? I don’t know, it’s probably some really technical snake ability that I don’t get.

Whatever, superhero movies are the best. I could watch The Wolverine like three more times, today, and I’d still be entertained. Just keep them coming. Like man, I hope they make a Daredevil 2. Or even better, a Spider-Man 3 2. Maybe they could do a crossover, Spider-Man 3 Vs. Daredevil. That would be pretty sick. Even though Michael Clark Duncan probably won’t get to be Kingpin again, because he died.

Everything you ever wanted to know about sushi

One of my friends is a sushi chef. I’ve been begging him for forever to please teach me the secrets of making sushi. At first I thought he was brushing me off because he was nervous, worried about me becoming a better sushi chef than he is. I told him there’s no reason to be afraid, that I’m not after his job. But he kept telling me stuff like, “Go search on the Internet,” or, “Just look at some Youtube videos.”

I thought he was just being an asshole, but finally, one day after months of nonstop asking him, every single day, he agreed. Apparently this is the first test in becoming a sushi chef, constantly begging, not stopping the begging, not even for one day, even though your requests are flatly denied. It’s like getting into Fight Club, but much more annoyingly.

Sushi is an ancient tradition that stretches back thousands of years. I didn’t know that. Did you? My sushi teacher told me it on day one of my training. There would be a lot of history lessons. Like, for example, do you know what sushi means in Japanese? It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just the name of the guy who created sushi, thousands of years ago. Mr. Sushi. He used to just call it “food,” not in English, obviously, but in Japanese. But over the millennia, his name, sushi, became synonymous with his style of cooking.

Too many lessons. “When are we going to get to the sushi making?” I whined and complained. Finally my sushi sensei took out his knives, big knives, little knives, a spatula. Wait a second, a spatula? “Since when do you need a spatula to make sushi?”

I didn’t realize that, according to the thousand year old technique of learning how to be a sushi chef, one cannot learn the art of sushi without first learning the art of hibachi. “Why?” I asked. I didn’t want anything to do with hibachi. I didn’t even have a hibachi grill. But apparently the guy who invented sushi, his brother invented hibachi. You know what his name was? Yep. While Sushi was a better chef, Hibachi was better at passing things down from generation to generation. And so, riding on the coattails of his brother’s successful culinary style, he insisted that anybody wanting to learn how to cook sushi had to first master Japan’s second favorite type of food, hibachi.

Hibachi’s rules are exacting, demanding. Even more lessons. Did you know that every house in Japan has at least one giant hibachi table per kitchen? It’s a law. I didn’t believe it, but it’s true. Also shocking, even homeless people have hibachis. That’s a law also. You’re basically not allowed to do anything in Japan unless you have a huge hibachi grill.

As my sensei patiently taught me the time honored Japanese tradition of quickly chopping up a white onion and layering it on the grill to look like a volcano, I would ask questions, like, “What if you’re living by yourself and you want to use the hibachi, do you have to go through the whole juggling of the salt and pepper shaker? My teacher stood there, nodding. Exactly. Every single time, the traditions must be honored.

I finally passed the hibachi final exam: by using only my spatula, I had to skin, season, and expertly grill five jumbo shrimp. But that was the easy part. The hard part was using a spoon to leverage the spatula into a sort of catapult. And then I had to fling each shrimp into my sensei’s open mouth. Mild applause. This is what history tasted like.

Finally, finally it was time to start learning about sushi. I learned everything. The rolling. The cutting into sushi pieces. The art of placing it on a wooden serving boat to feed large parties of people. I learned about all-you-can-eat sushi specials. I learned how to combine that special with the celebrated tradition of all-you-can-drink sake-bombs. I can’t overemphasize the importance of a strict two hour time limit. Also, if you break any of the glasses, two dollars will automatically be added to your bill. Fatty tuna’s going to cost you a little extra.

Did you know that the city of Philadelphia was actually named after the Philadelphia roll, and not the other way around? I didn’t know that. After I mastered the perfect Philadelphia roll, there was just one more challenge I had to conquer before I could join the ranks of the sushi chef. “Your final test is,” I was really nervous. I didn’t know what was in store for me, “A wasabi-eating contest with me, your sushi chef.” And he took out this grapefruit sized ball of wasabi.

After I destroyed him, we both sat there on the floor, nursing our wasabi burnt stomachs. “Rob, you’re one of us. You did it. Welcome.”

“Thank you, sensei.”

“Just remember, use this information wisely. Keep it secret. We’ve been honoring this pledge for thousands of years. Do not tell anybody else about how to make sushi unless they can pass all of the trials you have completed here today. Don’t mention it. Don’t talk about the tests, about any of this. Understand?”

And that’s when I was like, “No way buddy, I’m telling everybody. This stuff is crazy. I couldn’t have made any of this up if I tried. Sayonara sucker!”

And so, yeah, I went right home and wrote this all up.