We call this movie The Water of Life – a whisky film.
We’ve already discussed what “water of life” means, but what about “a whisky film?”
That’s our subtitle. We considered a bunch: “A Whisky Documentary,” “A film about whisky,” etc. At the end of the day I liked “a whisky film.”
It flows well when you say it and, in my opinion, it asks a certain question:
What the hell is a whisky film?
How does one go about making a whisky film?
It’s not as if it’s an established film genre like horror or romantic comedy.
But to me it’s not a film about whisky. That’s a small part of it. It’s meant to be a film of whisky, in a platonic sense. It’s whisky’s journey. It’s the hero of our film, not the subject.
The only trouble is, when you watch it you can’t taste a damn thing!
So our job is to recreate the experience using the sights, sounds, and stories of whisky. We must be meticulous in our approach… slow, methodical, and thorough. We want to luxuriate in the process, show peat burning in such a way that you’d swear you can smell it, show distillers working in such minute details that you feel like an participant in every nuanced decision.
Films and shows like Jiro Dreams of Sushi and Chef’s Table create a cinematic experience as exquisite as the food itself. And you don’t mind that you can’t taste the food (and in most cases, never will).
They linger on every crumb and drop. It’s slow, luxurious, decadent. We float over the edges of plates, the food sculptures atop them. And you never once think, “I can’t taste it!”
That is the magic of food films. And, if we do our jobs right, whisky films.
(Plus, we have an advantage: you can easily go to the store and get some whisky to enjoy while you watch our film).