A documentary about sushi master Jiro Ono and his son, directed by David Gelb.
Jiro Dreams of Sushi began as a film about how chefs make sushi, but test shorts showed the people were the story, so it became a father and son tale. A month-long first shoot exposed holes, and a second shoot filled them. The lesson: build around a person, let information arrive through them, and follow the truth when it departs from your plan.
From David Gelb, Jiro Dreams of Sushi
Test shorts showed the people, not the sushi, were the story. Jiro Dreams of Sushi began as a film about how different chefs make sushi. Test shorts showed David Gelb that the people were the interesting part, and it became a story about Jiro Ono and his son.
Gelb calls the principle leaning into the truth: when the material shows a different story than the research planned, follow the material. Editing dialogue to force a preset idea kills authenticity, and viewers can tell. "We always say lean into the truth."
Show a person's struggle instead of explaining the craft. Rather than explain how egg sushi is made, the film shows an apprentice who made it 200 times and wept when the master finally approved it.
Gelb's view is that people remember emotion and character, not information, and facts stick when they arrive through a person. "Character and emotion is much more important than information."
The son earning the Michelin stars set up the ending early. During the first phase of shooting, Gelb found Jiro's son Yoshikazu working in the restaurant and learned he had served the Michelin-starred meals. That became the ending: the son is worthy of the mantle.
It mirrored Gelb's own family. His grandfather, managing editor of the New York Times, told his father to be the best at whatever he did, and his father became general manager of the Metropolitan Opera. Gelb says fixing the ending as early as possible matters most: "landing the ending is the most important thing."
State the goal clearly and let the lesson emerge. Jiro has no competition to win, so the goal is stated plainly: to seek a perfection he will never reach. The lesson, that the journey is the destination, is left to come out of the story and is never said outright.
Jiro's own view is that the closer you think you are to perfection, the further away you find you are.
Open on a question about the character, not an action. Jiro opens quietly, with a fountain and Jiro writing his name, and poses a question: what is deliciousness?
Gelb says a hook only has to grab onto the character, and one that feels forced means the maker is not leaning into the truth.
Shoot widely first, then let the assembly reveal the gaps. Jiro was shot in two stages: a month for what Gelb thought was everything, then a second shoot after the first assembly showed what was missing.
He follows cinematographer Cesar Charlone's rule of quantity first: vary the shots rather than repeat takes, so the edit has choices. Pacing felt on set differs from how it plays in the edit. "it's quantity first actually"
Match the filmmaking to the subject's craft. Jiro was shot on the Red One, then the breakthrough digital cinema camera, and scored with Mozart because Jiro's sushi is compared to a concerto, and Philip Glass because his repeating, escalating refrain echoes Jiro's two steps forward, one step back.
Gelb starts every project by building a playlist and sharing it with editor Brandon Driscoll Leininger, his high school roommate, who adds finds of his own.
Chasing a model film while making something else became original. While making Jiro, Gelb was chasing Fog of War and even licensed a piece of its Philip Glass score.
He frames this as working through the taste gap: your taste outruns your skill, so keep doing the reps and move on to the next project. "you have to do the reps to build your skill so you can reach that level of taste"
Began as a film about how chefs make sushi, but test shorts showed the people were the story. It became a father and son tale, shot in two stages with a month for the first, and its ending came from the son earning the Michelin stars.
Test shorts showed the people, not the sushi, were the story. Jiro Dreams of Sushi began as a film about how different chefs make sushi. Test shorts showed David Gelb that the people were the interesting part, and it became a story about Jiro Ono and his son.
Gelb calls the principle leaning into the truth: when the material shows a different story than the research planned, follow the material. Editing dialogue to force a preset idea kills authenticity, and viewers can tell. "We always say lean into the truth."
Show a person's struggle instead of explaining the craft. Rather than explain how egg sushi is made, the film shows an apprentice who made it 200 times and wept when the master finally approved it.
Gelb's view is that people remember emotion and character, not information, and facts stick when they arrive through a person. "Character and emotion is much more important than information."
The son earning the Michelin stars set up the ending early. During the first phase of shooting, Gelb found Jiro's son Yoshikazu working in the restaurant and learned he had served the Michelin-starred meals. That became the ending: the son is worthy of the mantle.
It mirrored Gelb's own family. His grandfather, managing editor of the New York Times, told his father to be the best at whatever he did, and his father became general manager of the Metropolitan Opera. Gelb says fixing the ending as early as possible matters most: "landing the ending is the most important thing."
State the goal clearly and let the lesson emerge. Jiro has no competition to win, so the goal is stated plainly: to seek a perfection he will never reach. The lesson, that the journey is the destination, is left to come out of the story and is never said outright.
Jiro's own view is that the closer you think you are to perfection, the further away you find you are.
Open on a question about the character, not an action. Jiro opens quietly, with a fountain and Jiro writing his name, and poses a question: what is deliciousness?
Gelb says a hook only has to grab onto the character, and one that feels forced means the maker is not leaning into the truth.
Shoot widely first, then let the assembly reveal the gaps. Jiro was shot in two stages: a month for what Gelb thought was everything, then a second shoot after the first assembly showed what was missing.
He follows cinematographer Cesar Charlone's rule of quantity first: vary the shots rather than repeat takes, so the edit has choices. Pacing felt on set differs from how it plays in the edit. "it's quantity first actually"
Match the filmmaking to the subject's craft. Jiro was shot on the Red One, then the breakthrough digital cinema camera, and scored with Mozart because Jiro's sushi is compared to a concerto, and Philip Glass because his repeating, escalating refrain echoes Jiro's two steps forward, one step back.
Gelb starts every project by building a playlist and sharing it with editor Brandon Driscoll Leininger, his high school roommate, who adds finds of his own.
Chasing a model film while making something else became original. While making Jiro, Gelb was chasing Fog of War and even licensed a piece of its Philip Glass score.
He frames this as working through the taste gap: your taste outruns your skill, so keep doing the reps and move on to the next project. "you have to do the reps to build your skill so you can reach that level of taste"
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