All language subtitles for One.Of.One.2025.1080p.WEBRip.x264.AAC5.1-[YTS.MX].en

This is a film about a
three-generation business

called Naito Auto Engineering,

a secret garage hidden in plain sight
in the heart of Tokyo.

Naito Auto's story starts
in pre-World War II Japan.

Winds through the dark years of the war,
and then rides up like a roller coaster

into the economic boom of the Showa era,

and back down to the current day.

The business was started
by Shinichi Naito, an autodidact.

Shinichi was an engineer
who first worked with airplanes.

After World War II,

Shinichi found himself
surrounded by automobiles,

managing a large service garage.

On weekends, Shinichi and his friends
would travel to the Yokota Air Base,

where American GIS would race
and show off their foreign sports cars.

Here, Shinichi found his niche.

In 1953, Shinichi quit his job

and decided to open
his own service station,

a one-car garage in the heart of Asakusa,
a neighborhood of Tokyo.

Today, Naito Auto is run
by Shinichi's son, Masao Naito,

with the help of his two sons.

And this is actually a story of Masao,
who, in many ways,

is the quintessential
Japanese baby boomer.

From humble beginnings,
he rode the opportunity of postwar Japan

to make his family business
a great success.

His children and even his parents
seem to stand in his shadow.

Some years ago,

I was a struggling filmmaker
looking for stories

and had the chance to be in Tokyo,

spending nights in a $25 hostel,

living off food from 7-Eleven,
and making films

on what they call the shoestring budget.

I had a list of people I was set to meet
in the Tokyo Classic car community.

Mechanics, owners, journalists,
and even an ex-Formula Three driver.

I had the chance to meet
the Naito family early in my trip.

I arrived at their showroom

and after a quick exchange of some gifts
I had brought from America,

we headed off to the workshop.

Oh, nice.

Masao stayed behind.

Just his two sons, So and Kei,
and myself made the 30-minute journey

to the place their family
had been working for 50 years.

When we arrived at the workshop,

unknown to me at the time,
I was about to be tested.

Sitting there in that dingy old shop

were three cars
uncovered under the lights.

So and Kei focused
all their attention on two of those cars,

a Lotus Elan and a Fiat Abarth.

They sat in the cars, started the engines,

and walked around them showing me details,

and discussing the work
they'd done on them.

My photos from that night show just that.

But what my photos don't show
or barely show

is the third car, a Ferrari 250 LM.

Now, a car guy
would know exactly what that was.

A car guy would ignore
the Fiat and the Lotus,

and walk straight up to the Ferrari,

because while the Fiat and the Lotus
are worth about $100,000 apiece,

the Ferrari is worth
more than $20 million.

The Ferrari is in a different class.

There were only 32
of these cars ever built,

and a couple of them won
the 24 Hour of Le Mans in 1965.

A car guy would know that.

But I was not a car guy.

At least not when I first met the Naitos.

And that's exactly why
they wanted to work with me.

They wanted to work with a guy
that was more interested in their story,

not in their car collection.

That first meeting with the Naitos
would prove to them,

despite never having opened
their doors to a filmmaker,

that they would agree to allow me
to document their work

and their workshop and their life.

It could be motorcycles,

airplanes, I don't know.

It's different for different people.

For our family, though, it's cars.

Hello, I'm So Naito,
from Naito Auto Engineering.

This is my fourteenth year since I started
working for Naito Auto Engineering.

When you use…
your hands to do this work,

you get a feel for the people
who made the cars,

the designers, the craftsmen…

and you can sense the passion they had.

And those cars, I guess…

…they aren't just a means
to get from place to place.

We pour our feelings into our work.

When the restoration is done,
and it's time to run the car,

there is a joy
that's hard to put into words.

Once you get a taste of that…

I don't know…

…you can't quit.

You put everything into your work

for months…

…and you see the finished car.

That feeling is something that…

…is priceless.

The Naitos are very private,

and what's unusual is most shops,

they advertise all around the world,
they're open to the public.

They do not do that.

They choose the customers.
The customers do not choose them.

They're not open to the public.

It, it's like hearing about Aladdin's cave

and that it really exists.

My name is David Gooding.
I'm co-founder of Gooding and Company,

and, uh, I have been
in the, uh, auction business

for probably 30 years, but around
the Classic Car market, uh, all my life.

You know, one thing that really
impressed me about the Naitos

is that they are so careful
in their approach

and, uh, nothing is rushed,

and that they take on every project,

uh, with great care.

Here's this shop of only five people,

and they're working on

some of the most coveted
and valuable cars in the world.

I mean, we talk about
a 250 LM Ferrari, a 911 R,

cars that, uh, the world's top collections
are looking for,

and the fact that they,
uh, have restored them,

sourced them, found them, owned them,

uh, it's truly remarkable.

There are many people within our industry,
top-level people

that have never even heard about them,
seen the shop,

or know anything about the Naito family.

It is really unheard of.

And for those of us in the business…

that's magical.

Um, my name is Masao Naito.

Uh, born in 1949, August 3rd.

Uh, I was president
of Naito Auto Engineering

until last year,

but I'm now retired and no longer working.

When I was a kid,

my dad, he ran his own business.

It was called Naito Automobile Garage,

and it was up in Asakusa,
in Taito Ward in Tokyo.

I remember thinking,
as my dad worked on cars,

that this work was way too hard.

You get covered in grease.

It struck me as being really hard.

I remember wanting to avoid
this line of work.

Shinichi Naito was a man
from a Japan that no longer exists.

Before World War II,
Japanese school children

were taught with military-like discipline.

Sometimes, with military supervision.

Born in 1919
and raised during a depression,

Shinichi's family struggled
to feed their seven children.

So Shinichi stopped going to school

and worked odd jobs to help the family.

Early on, he fell in love
with motorcycles,

bought books on how to fix them
and studied avidly in his free time.

And somehow, he was able
to turn this knowledge

into a highly skilled profession.

The details of his first job
as an engineer are murky.

But before and during World War II,
he worked at Nakajima Aircraft Company,

building and maintaining fighter planes
for the Japanese military.

Everyone else there
had impressive academic records.

Apparently, he was the only one
at Nakajima who didn't have a degree.

It was very rare.

He must have studied really hard
on his own.

It's hard to visualize
how different Shinichi was.

Children that dropped
out of school in Japan

would eventually find themselves
in low-wage manual-labor jobs,

rarely with any large responsibility.

But Shinichi was working
alongside highly skilled engineers

on the most sophisticated
combustion engines of the day.

"Rare" doesn't describe it.

It was unheard of.

But the real genius was
what Shinichi decided to do

after the war ended.

How should I put this?

Uh, it wasn't that he wanted
to work on cars or restore them.

It was that the aircraft company
was dismantled.

So he lost his job.

And right at the same time,

there were lots of American soldiers

in Japan because of the Korean War.

The officers had

these amazing cars.

But no one in Japan knew how to fix them.

That's where my dad came in. He knew how.

He went to Yokota every week
to work on those cars.

Cars like the Aston-Martin DB3,

the Mercedes Benz 300SL
with the gull-wing doors.

We called them "ultra super cars."

He was able to save a little money,

and he started
Naito Auto Engineering, Inc.

And that's how it all began.

With Shinichi's skills as a mechanic,

Naito Auto was off and running.

At his last job,
Shinichi had built a client base

that followed him
when he opened his own shop.

His one-car service station
was working exclusively on foreign cars,

an anomaly in '50s and '60s Japan.

They were mostly foreign cars?

Not mostly. All of them.

My parents had their hands full

with the cars and the customers.

So they had to stay up late
into the night,

just to keep up.

They were that busy.

I'd see from the corner of my eye,

mom and dad working late,

uh, as I left in the car with my friends.

It used to be that in family businesses,

a son would have to learn
to earn his keep outside of the family

before becoming
an employee of his father's.

So Masao, straight out of school
at the age of 22,

began working at Kintetsu Motors,

an authorized Ford dealer,
on his father's recommendation.

What Masao did learn from his father,
he learned by watching.

And when he began
his career as a mechanic,

Masao realized he had
a massive leg up on his peers

and excelled.

Uh, no one needed to tell me

how the different machines worked.

I knew all that already.

Even though it was my first job,

I was able to fix things
without asking questions.

That was all because of my father.

So having a father
that's a technical genius

can help you become a good mechanic.

But what it doesn't do
is make you a good businessman.

So how did Masao turn
his father's small service station

into a world-class business
with the world's most valuable cars?

By going to Los Angeles.

That's how.

Arriving in LA with no money,

he first found work as a gardener

alongside men from Okinawa
he met at a boarding house.

But soon, instinct kicked in
and he was back working with cars.

First at a radiator shop
off the 405 freeway

and then, something a little different.

I picked up
a little side work doing paint jobs

for guys that seemed like thieves.

They would come to me and…

Of course, they wouldn't say
the car was stolen.

But I had a feeling.

Having saved a bit of money,

what he did next proved fateful

and was probably the moment
he went from employee

to boss.

The reason I bought the Barracuda was

I thought I'd look cool
driving it in Japan.

I bought the car for $4000.

I drove it around to show off,
and a guy said, "Sell it to me!"

I sold it a week after I got home.

Even with all the fees…

…I sold it for double.

And I thought to myself,

"Maybe this could
turn into a business for me."

I guess it was three days after I sold it,
if I remember,

that I went back to Los Angeles.

This time to buy cars.

I was in Ginza,
waiting for the light to change.

He stood diagonally in front of me.

I thought,
"Oh, I think that might be Naito-kun,"

the one I was introduced to the other day.

I said, "Naito-kun?"

He probably said, "Kosuge-san?"

My maiden name is Kosuge.

And he was like, "Do you want to get tea?"

That was the beginning.

My name is Asami Naito.

Nice to meet you.

I'm the "Okami-san "
of Naito Auto.

After we started dating,
he'd pick me up in a car. Right?

And the first car was…

…a De Tomaso Pantera.

It was an amazing supercar.

The body was this low,
like it was laying flat,

it was huge

and was incredibly wide, too,
like it was squished.

I could hear his car from a block away.

Each time he pulled up,
he'd be in a different car.

I thought, "Wow!

He must have a spectacular auto shop."

When I actually saw it,
it wasn't at all what I imagined.

I was like, "What?"

Buying and selling cars
became Masao's primary focus.

And quickly, Naito Auto transformed
from a small service station

to an international business,

importing and selling cars
from around the world.

At the time,
I could have bought four cars,

but that was scary, so I bought two.

I brought them to Japan,

and in the blink of an eye,

uh, because the price was so low,
I sold them for double, again.

That laid the foundation
for these cars today.

Built on his father's foundation,

Masao had found his niche,

an untapped market in Japan

that proved to be
much more lucrative for the company

than service and restoration.

And quickly, the business
and his father shifted their focus.

The family business was growing

and soon, Masao set his sights on the UK.

He focused on British cars first,

the Lotus Salon and Elite,

or the Mini Cooper S Mark I and II,

popular models
that would sell easily in Japan.

Learning English on the fly,
the world was wide open.

Back then…
I didn't know any better.

I stayed
at the Intercontinental Hotel in London,

a high-end luxury hotel.

I kept all the cars I bought
in the hotel parking lot.

Once I had ten cars,
I sent for the forwarder

who'd come take them to send to Japan.

This is where Masao excelled.

So while he was importing
those Lotus and Mini models,

he was also thinking ahead,

knowing that his father
was always in the workshop,

Masao would buy cars
that most would overlook,

cars used in races discarded as junk,

waiting for the right moment.

The old cars were cheap.

For example, you could buy
an old Ferrari 250 SWB

for the price of a new Lotus Elan.

But it would be a total junker.

A Ferrari 250 SWB
is worth $10 million today.

But when Masao saw them
sitting in disrepair

in the back corner of a garage
outside of London,

he could buy them for around $6000.

But the trust worked both ways.

Masao knew his father was ready
to handle this new venture,

but Shinichi as well had to trust his son

and was prepared to sacrifice
all that they had worked for

to support Masao's dream.

When I told my father
I wanted a certain car,

um, but we'd have
to sell the house to buy it,

he would say, "Just sell it.
We can rent an apartment."

No matter what I wanted to do,
he never opposed it.

"Just buy the cars that you want."

This building
is more than just a workshop.

For many years, it was also a home.

Here, Masao started his family.

Three children he raised under this roof

alongside the grandparents
and Masao's younger brother.

Downstairs, the men worked on cars,

while upstairs, the women prepared meals,

tended to the children,
and managed the finances.

Above the workshop,
in this tiny three-room apartment,

the Naito family lived together,

ate together,

and built a business together.

My first memories
are of the workshop downstairs.

Of course, there was smoke

from the engines
and the smell of gasoline.

It was overwhelming,
all the fumes would come upstairs.

To marry into a family to live with them,
you know, I think that's hard.

I think it's difficult.

I was born and raised differently.

Don't be scared.

And I was scared of his mother.

My heart was pounding.

It would have been better
if the home was big,

but it was small and cramped.

The five of us in a single six-mat room.

We basically slept
right up against each other.

There was a living room,
where we all ate together,

and across that,

grandpa and grandma
in another six-mat room.

It was tiny.

But at the time, it was a lot of fun.

At first glance,
the family seems to work together

in perfect harmony.

Upstairs, three generations lived
in a cramped apartment,

slept cheek to jowl,

while downstairs,
some of the world's greatest cars

were serviced with artistry and precision.

Knowledge passed down day by day
over a lifetime from father to son.

Masao was the brains of the operation,
overseeing the smallest details.

His word is law.

He rules with a quiet force.

Orders come in short bursts,

followed by one of his children
rushing off to complete a task.

We'll leave the rest to you guys.

Check before you back out.

Tensions arise,
but never for the camera.

And never outside of the home.

And despite this,
the Naitos stick together

as a family and as a business.

Decisions are made in Masao's dining room.

At this table, he makes his wishes known,

who they can sell cars to,
who they can buy cars from…

…and who they must avoid.

Maybe it's like this for good reason.

Or maybe he won't let go.

A family, like a business,
must have its leader.

And Masao was born to rule,
to be in control.

And this control
he hasn't shared with anyone.

Not his father, not his brother,

and not his sons.

This workshop is a moment frozen in time,

but the work is what's fascinating.

Knowledge stored up over years.

Lessons that become instincts
gained through experience,

not teaching.

And this creates synchronicity.

Tools, car parts, workbenches,
oil cans, and scrap metal

strewn about this shop
with its leaky roof and broken windows.

But it works so well.

And despite the mess,
or because of the mess,

the cars are immaculate.

But there's magic in the discipline
and the dedication to a routine.

Like clockwork,
they wake up at 5:30 in the morning.

By 7:00, they've eaten breakfast,
had a cup of coffee,

and are dressed in their workshop clothes.

Masao and his sons gather

in the showroom downstairs
from Masao's home

and discuss the day's tasks.

They pack the car with parts
or tools that have arrived by mail,

and at 7:30, they're on the road
headed to the workshop.

When they arrive,

their two employees have arrived
just moments before,

and with little more than a good morning,
work begins.

There's very little talking
during work hours.

No music, no idle chatter.

Just five men completing tasks.

From warm days to cold,
the only thing that changes

are the number of layers they wear

and the temperature
of the coffee during breaks.

A nearby vending machine
provides them with all they need.

And they always break together.

Tools that were purchased
when the business opened,

haven't been discarded
for the newest models,

but used as intended.

With as many parts they can source
from the original factories,

they put these cars back on the road
to be enjoyed by themselves

and their select group of customers.

Their philosophy has always been simple.

Restoration as close
to the original as possible.

The work is silently watched over
by Masao's patriarchal eye.

His two sons, in their forties,

work alongside their father
day in and day out,

listening, watching,
and being shown how it's done.

Their employees
are also part of the family.

One is Masao's younger brother,

who, having never worked
anywhere else in his life,

must be content to never rise in the ranks

as it was first his father

and today, his brother,
who will always be his boss.

My name is Shigeru Naito.

I joined Naito Auto about 45 years ago.

I loved cars,
and as I watched my dad work,

I wanted cars, wanted to ride in cars,

and ultimately, wanted to fix cars.

Our current chairman
told me to go to England.

I went for half a year.

I learned a lot about racing.

Back then, I wasn't one
to race on the circuit.

I had no talent for that.

With the boss…

Just like at any other workplace,

there's a boss-subordinate relationship,
which is hard.

I've watched Naito Auto all these years,

and I can say it's transformed
into a different company

from my dad's time.

All this time,
I feel that I've been trying really hard.

Quite hard.

But still, my dad's presence is so great.

I've realized that I'll never surpass him.

Not him.

I think I've done the best I could.

The fifth and most valued employee

of Naito Auto is the shop foreman,

a distant cousin
of the Naitos by marriage.

Of all the men under this roof,

he most embodies
the spirit of the shokunin,

a true craftsman.

His life is dedicated to these cars
in the same shop for over 50 years.

Originally hired by Shinichi
when he was just 23 years old,

he's been working at Naito Auto
longer than Masao.

His skills
speak volumes within the company,

and he is tasked with holding
the most knowledge

of how these cars must be maintained.

Today, the most stressful part of his job

is ensuring that this knowledge
is passed down

before it's his time to retire.

I'm the foreman at Naito Auto.

My name is Nakagawa.

I want the boys to master

all the technical things.

Of course, they'll need sales
and things like that,

but the basis for that
is restoration and repairs.

They have to know their stuff.

I'm getting old, you know.

The sooner the better,
or the work can't be carried on.

How should I put it?

If So and Kei could…

…do all the work on their own
without guidance,

that would be ideal.

I'd like them to try harder.

It would be great if the people
you leave things to do a good job.

Maybe their teachers

aren't doing a good job, I don't know.

The teaching may leave
something to be desired.

How much longer
do you want to work as an engineer?

Or do you want to quit?

Well…

I'll keep going

as long as I can.

But at most, I've got five years left.

Ten years is pushing it.

It's the twilight for Masao's generation.

The baby boomers who watched
their parents come through the war

and decided they were
gonna do things their way.

Opportunities were everywhere.

Optimism reigned.

His father stepped aside
and trusted Masao's vision and grit.

But by the time his children came of age,

Japan's prosperity was on the decline.

It seems that Masao has heirs of blood,

but none of vision or opportunity.

And yet, he's often inscrutable.

At times, contradicts himself.

He claims to be retired,
but here he is, every day,

running even the smallest details
of the operation.

Near the end of my time with the family,

I saw this clearer than ever before.

Recently, he's fired
his younger brother Shigeru

after the two had an argument.

And as mysteriously
as he allowed filming to begin,

he's decided it's come to an end.

And today, I'm not welcome
in the showroom or the workshop.

But I'd like to believe
that Masao's decision

was rooted in empathy, not anger,

as he knew that in order
to tell the story honestly,

I needed space away from the family.

I needed perspective,
and this was how he helped me.

A question remains,

what will happen
when Masao's shadow fades?

Eventually, So and Kei will have
to stand in the light on their own.

But today, their father remains
perched high above them.

It's possible he's waiting for his sons
to have the will to push him aside.

Or maybe, he plans
to remain in the workshop

as Shinichi did till his dying days.

Masao and Nakagawa
are nearing 80 years old.

With deep reverence
for the ways of the past,

they preserve hope
for the younger generation.

But these men represent a dying breed.

Their lives dedicated to a craft…

…you have to wonder if the knowledge
of their work will be lost.

You have
to have a sense of self-sacrifice.

If you don't, everyone will leave.

With self-sacrifice,
the family comes together.

I'm not important.

The family is important.

But that was
the Japanese spirit, originally.

Everyone was like that…

…in the old days.

Early in my filming with the Naitos,

I made a pretty big mistake.

We had a plan.

Meet at the workshop at 4:00 a.m.

and drive to the countryside
with their Porsche 907.

Everyone was coming.

Masao, So and Kei, Shigeru, Nakagawa,

and an assistant I had hired for the day.

But that morning, I missed my alarm.

Missed it because it never went off.

I woke up at 6:00,
saw the light in the sky and knew.

My heart sank.

It was too late to make it right.

Everyone was back home.

The day was scrapped.

I tried to call the family to apologize,
but no one answered.

I got a text reply that simply said,

"Don't worry. We'll talk later."

I decided the best thing to do

was to try to apologize
to Masao face-to-face.

First, I went to the 7-Eleven
and got some cash,

enough to cover his employees' time.

And then, I went
to the showroom and waited.

I didn't call.

I didn't ring the bell.

I just stood outside.

Six hours I waited on the street.

Finally, Masao appeared,
headed to the grocery store.

He was surprised to see me
and said hello in his usual jovial way.

I handed him the envelope of cash
and said sorry many times over.

- He patted me on the back,

a cigarette hanging out of his mouth,

and said, "No problem,
no problem, don't worry."

Before I could say another word,
he was on his bike and gone to the market.

Finish.

Finish your adventure.

I didn't hear from them
for a couple of days,

but then I got a text.

"Tomorrow morning,
be at the showroom 5:00 a.m."

I went back to 7-Eleven
and bought two alarm clocks.

I don't think I slept that night.

When I got to the showroom
the next morning,

there was Masao
and the 907 waiting for me.

Masao looked at me with a big smile
and said, "Take two."

That morning, So, Kei, and I took the car
out to a street Masao had suggested.

He stayed behind.

For Masao and the men of his generation,

the story is coming to an end.

But for Naito Auto,

the story is still being written.