Tokyo Uber Blues: Review

4th November 2024

Tokyo Uber Blues: Review

At a time where documentaries seem to largely fall into either category of “gentle slice of life” or “hard hitting does of reality”, Tokyo Uber Blues falls in between. It unflinchingly depicts a harsh reality of living and working on the breadline, but in that benign and amiable way familiar to films from Japan.

Arriving at a time when more and more questions are being raised about whether people who work as food delivery partners are being exploited and underpaid, this documentary doesn’t quite relay a sense of urgency for what is becoming a problem for more and more people. Instead it lays out all the raw facts for everyone who watches it to make a decision on it themselves.

Tokyo Uber Blues was filmed entirely on a GoPro and smartphone cameras by Taku Aoyagi, a 26-year-old film school graduate living in a rural town outside Osaka with his family. Saddled with student debt among other expenses, he was working as a taxi driver until the COVID-19 Pandemic hit, which put the halt on life as he knew it.

From there he documents himself relocating to Tokyo to work the only job open to him, delivering food for Uber Eats. (For those unfamiliar, working freelance delivery partners collect orders from restaurants made through an online application, then delivering them, in his case by bicycle, to the customer’s home address as fast as possible, earning a commission on each delivery completed.)

The job has the advantage of never being short of deliveries, but each day is long and pay is inconsistent, with the number of deliveries made different each day. Aoyagi seems content with what he earns for his efforts, but it’s clear there are a number of pitfalls with this position.

He claims that he can choose when to work, but any time spent not working means a loss of earnings. So he regularly puts in a full day, which can sometimes go up to ten hours. He only gets paid after completing a full working week. There’s more business for him on rainy days, but the conditions are harder to cycle in. He has to cover all additional costs, such as any damage to his bike, out of his own pocket.

While in the capital, Aoyagi is reliant on the kindness of old school friends he reconnects with online. Among them is Tsuchi, who lets him stay with him in Shinjuku. Tsuchi is one of the film’s most interesting characters; welcoming to his old friend though hesitant of catching COVID from him, the two have late-night discussions which find them both deep in thought and philosophical.

They discuss being a cog in the machine, inspired when Aoyagi questions what he is doing when he had to travel across the city to deliver a single Tapioca drink. Best of all, inspired by Ken Loach at one point they discuss how there should be higher wages and relief for people in poverty, but also agree it’s all talk, what is needed is affirmative action.

Eventually though Aoyagi ends up homeless on the streets of Tokyo, either sleeping rough or spending his daily earnings on hotel stays. It’s here where madness starts to set in; he starts speaking non-sequentially and breaks down on camera, even at points becoming too candid for his own good. At this point, we can see how much of a difference is made by simple gestures such as an elderly woman starting a conversation with him and a restaurant worker wishing him a safe ride.

What Tokyo Uber Blues does well is not coming to a real conclusion by the end, there isn’t a moment when Aoygai gives a final assessment on the job because it can be different for everyone. It doesn’t seem like the perfect job for him, but the film acknowledges some make being a delivery partner work for them, while others would not be suited to it at all.

The film may not answer every question for everyone who watches it, but it’s very well made and the way it sheds light on the subject is raw and earnest that it would make for an interesting conversation starter on what constitutes fair practice for this line of work.

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