It’s overwhelmingly obvious by now that the COVID-19 pandemic flipped the tables on popular conceptions of work, career, and fulfillment. Here in America specifically, we tend to think about this in very isolationist terms, in the sense that many of our essentials (healthcare at the top of the list) are not de-commodified like they are in other developed democracies, thus leading to overall worse outcomes. Enter Tokyo Uber Blues to help us learn a little bit about how the pandemic and its subsequent societal shifts impacted Japan. The film, as Uber so self-righteously promises, connects us.
Directed by 26-year-old (at the time) Taku Aoyagi, the film follows his experience as an Uber Eats delivery biker in Tokyo. Having just graduated from film school with a mountain of debt, Aoyagi leaves the rural home of his family, essentially broke and looking to be able to pay off some small part of his debt. Ingeniously, he turned his delivery experience into a film, a very honest and thoughtful one at that. After the first few days, he’s tired out, and he begins to swing wildly from extremely motivated to couch-potato status at various friends’ apartments. As time goes on, his stream-of-consciousness monologues — sometimes direct-to-camera, sometimes recorded as voice-over for montage sequences — become very insightful, less about his own individual struggles and more about how they relate to features of the human condition. There are also a few choice rants regarding gig-work in general and governmental responses to the virus, which are fascinating as documents in time in and of themselves.
Even with the insane amount of clearly draining pedaling Aoyagi performs, he seems ever-conscious of the fact that he’s making a film for the entire world. By that I mean he keeps it buoyant, choosing to include insights from friends he reconnects with along the way, as well as very humorous anecdotes and events that, had the film been made any differently, some producer would probably have demanded be left on the cutting room floor. However, those are the moments which really make Tokyo Uber Blues a complete portrait of a time and place. We are united by a shared humanity which not only feels pain together, but laughs together, even laughs at our own mistakes together.
One such event is when Aoyagi attempts to hire a call girl for his 27th birthday, only to find that he has insufficient funds but cannot cancel the hotel booking. So, he stays in the room and eats a couple cupcakes while politely dealing with the customer service person on the phone. I’m not even sure if he knows in this moment how well his own sense of humor and self-deprecating quips will serve the final film, but they really help make it even more memorable than it would otherwise be. This kind of on-the-ground, authentic act of journalism with a clear voice behind it will always be more impactful than almost any talking-head documentary.
PBS will broadcast a condensed version of Tokyo Uber Blues as part of their POV documentary series on October 21. Check your local listings, of course, but it will also stream for free on the PBS app, which, despite some of the problems the film explores, is indicative of at least one blessing in our modern world: in a few ways, we actually are becoming more connected. | George Napper
In Japanese with English subtitles
