(4)

 "Wine is sunlight...

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held together by water. "

 

 

The poetic wisdom of the Italian physicist,

philosopher and stargazer...

 

 

Galileo Galilei.

 

 

It all begins with the soil...

 

 

the vine, the grape.

 

 

The smell of the vineyard.

 

 

Like inhaling birth.

 

 

It awakens some... ancestral...

 

 

some... primordial-

 

 

Anyway, some deeply imprinted...

 

 

and probably subconscious place...

 

 

in my soul.

 

 

Everything all right here?

 

 

These Californian wines...

 

 

are all... so good.

 

 

What were you expecting?

 

 

Thunderbird?

 

 

- What did you do?

- Huh?

 

 

- What'd you do?

- The-We needed them, Dad.

 

 

Huh?

 

 

- You send them back, all right?

- You know full well we can't send them back.

 

 

- Just send them back.

- You wanna fight?

 

 

No. No, goddamn it!

I don't wanna fight!

 

 

I just want to- to-

 

 

God.

 

 

To not fail at this.

 

 

To not completely fail.

 

 

Oh, God.

 

 

Are you okay?

 

 

Yeah. Just-

 

 

Don't-

 

 

Just don't ever pull

a stunt like that again.

 

 

I solved the problem.

 

 

Oh. I owe her now.

 

 

- Think of it as a gift.

- Gift like that costs more than money.

 

 

Why? Because you might

actually have to say thank you?

 

 

- I don't wanna owe anybody.

- You owe the bank 12 and a half percent.

 

 

Pay her back if you want. Or not.

 

 

Whatever. She's not gonna

charge you interest.

 

 

I'd rather owe 10 banks

than owe your mother.

 

 

Oh, by the way, I fired Gustavo.

 

 

What? Wh-Why would you do that?

 

 

He's running his own operation now.

 

 

What are you talking about?

 

 

Ask him.

 

 

Knock, knock.

 

 

Whoa.

 

 

Putting some blood

into it now, are you?

 

 

Can I help you?

 

 

Could I purchase two bottles

of the '73, please?

 

 

It's not ready.

 

 

I'll hold onto it.

 

 

Does this mean that you've picked

the wines for your tasting?

 

 

I'll be making a formal announcement

to the invited wineries and to the press.

 

 

I can't spoil

the bubble of surprise now.

 

 

Right. Wouldn't wanna

pop any bubbles.

 

 

And when will this formal

declaration be taking place?

 

 

In due course.

 

 

Why don't I like you?

 

 

'Cause you think I'm an asshole.

And I'm not really.

 

 

I'm just British,

and, well, you're not.

 

 

I- It's because...

 

 

I think you've designed

this whole tasting thing...

 

 

to embarrass the Americans

on their birthday.

 

 

- Why would I do that?

- To somehow...

 

 

- make yourself more popular among your peers.

- Dad.

 

 

No. I-If there's one thing I know...

 

 

it's people.

 

 

Well...

 

 

good to see you again.

 

 

You know, Montelena

could have used the exposure.

 

 

What if we'd won?

People might then actually buy our wine.

 

 

They'd never let us win.

 

 

Who is "they"?

 

 

Him. The Brit.

They- the French wine cronies.

 

 

They're in the French wine trade.

 

 

They're not looking to change that.

 

 

It's a mistake, Dad.

 

 

Man, this is the, uh-

the heaviest glass of wine I've ever had.

 

 

- Don't be so melodramatic.

- Hey, I'm serious, dude.

 

 

Taste it.

 

 

- Did you sleep with her?

- Oh, come on, Bo.

 

 

- Admit it. Admit it.

- You of all people.

 

 

- How many different girls have you been with-

- This is different.

 

 

Taste the wine, please.

 

 

Did the Brit like it?

 

 

He bought two bottles.

 

 

That says something.

 

 

Ten bucks.

 

 

Are you seeing her?

 

 

What does-What does that mean?

 

 

- You know exactly what that means.

- I don't know.

 

 

She liked my wine.

 

 

- A lot. You know-

- Uh-huh.

 

  

I can't believe you're jealous.

 

 

- Come on. I'm not jealous.

- You're jealous. Yes, you are.

 

 

- I'm not.

- Okay. Well, then, she was, um-

 

 

Mmm. She was good.

 

 

- I've never had a girl say my name like that, right?

- All right.

 

 

- Enough.

- She moaned my name-

 

 

- Did you actually sleep with her?

- Yeah, I slept with her, dude.

 

 

Bullshit. I don't f-

 

 

 Don't lay that rich guy bullshit on me.

I work my ass off.

 

 

- I'm out there 12 hours a day.

- I couldn't even come and play.

 

 

- Play? Oh, come on.

- Taste the fuckin' wine, please!

 

 

It's good.

 

 

Good?

 

 

What kind of an opinion is that?

 

 

A good one.

 

 

If I had been born with your privilege-

 

 

Excuse me?

 

 

I wouldn't have squandered it.

 

 

 The white zone is for

immediate loading and unloading of passengers-

 

 

- No parking.

- Excuse me.

 

 

Hey.

 

 

Bo. Are you going somewhere?

 

 

I'm sorry about my dad.

 

 

He can be a little, uh, impulsive.

 

 

- I could think of other words.

- Uh...

 

 

- pigheaded maybe?

- That would be one of them.

 

 

I wanted you to have two bottles of

our chardonnay- for the competition.

 

 

If you decide to choose them.

 

 

Is your father okay with this?

 

 

Ye-Yes.

Absolutely.

 

 

Right.

 

 

Hello, and thank you for flying

with TWA today.

 

 

My name is Becky.

How may I help you?

 

 

I will be traveling on Flight

349 to < xmlnamespace prefix ="st1" ns ="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Paris this morning.

 

 

How many persons traveling?

 

 

Just one.

 

 

And how many suitcases?

 

 

Also just one.

Oh. And this one I'll have to carry.

 

 

And, uh, these.

 

 

- What is in the box, sir?

- The sweet nectar of the Napa Valley.

 

 

- All the bottles are properly packed.

- I'm sorry, sir...

 

 

but F.A.A. rules only allow you

to bring one bottle of wine in a travel bag.

 

 

Beyond that, you have to make

special customs arrangements.

 

 

These wines are scheduled

to be served in a competition in Paris.

 

 

I can't have them

jostled about in cargo.

 

 

I'm so sorry.

 

 

Excuse me.

 

 

A lot of people waiting.

 

 

Sorry, sir.

 

 

People, can I have

your attention, please?

 

 

Who in this line is going

to Paris on Flight 349?

 

 

Guten Morgen.

 

 

Ja.

 

 

They can each carry one.

 

 

Hello, everybody.

My name is Bo.

 

 

My family runs a small

vineyard here in Napa.

 

 

- Is your last name Gallo?

- God forbid.

 

 

No, sir. It's Barrett.

The French have invited...

 

 

certain American vintners...

 

 

to compete in a tasting in Paris.

 

 

I am technically not French.

 

 

You think you can beat the French?

 

 

We don't know, but we, uh-

 

 

we certainly want a chance to try.

 

 

The only problem is we can't

get our wine there without your help.

 

 

See, I'm only allowed to carry on

one bottle of wine, and I brought twenty-f-

 

 

uh, 26 bottles of wine back to Paris without

them being shaken or bumped around.

 

 

Will anybody carry a bottle for me?

 

 

I'll take one.

And so will my husband.

 

 

I'm always proud

to help a bellwether.

 

 

I'll take one. I'll carry one for you. Sure.

 

 

Okay.

 

 

- Thank you so much.

- My granddaddy made hooch during prohibition.

 

 

Marvelous.

 

 

Treat these bottles with care,

everybody.

 

 

- Thank you.

- I know I speak on behalf...

 

 

of all vintners in Napa Valley

when I say thank you.

 

 

And I'll meet you all

outside customs in Paris.

 

 

- Well done.

- Cheers.

 

 

Safe flight.

 

 

Hi.

 

 

Oh, God.

 

 

Someone die?

 

 

- Yes!

- We are not gonna participate.

 

 

What are you talking about? Even after

everything you said to him, he picked our wine.

 

 

- That means something, Dad.

- Yeah, it means he thinks I'm a sucker.

 

 

- Oh, Je-

- Hey. That contest is, what, two weeks from now?

 

 

- Yeah.

- Whatever we do to get our bottles there...

 

 

they won't show well.

That's guaranteed.

 

 

Wine's in Paris.

 

 

I went to the airport

and had each bottle hand-carried.

 

 

- You gave him my wine?

- No, I gave him our wine.

 

 

- I told you not to.

- You were being pigheaded.

 

 

Pack your bags.

 

 

You're outta here, kid.

 

 

You're kicking me out.

 

 

I'm firing you.

 

 

 Keep on driving me, baby

 

 

Dad?

 

 

There he is.

 

 

What the hell's going on?

 

 

The prodigal son come to

have a laugh at his father.

 

 

I'm leaving.

 

 

And there's nothing left to leave.

 

 

Yeah, you're not the first.

 

 

I'm gonna call Sam.

 

 

She'll help you upstairs

and clean this shit up.

 

 

- Hey. Take this bottle.

- I don't want the bottle.

 

 

- Take the bottle.

- I don't want the bottle!

 

 

Take the bottle and look at it

in the sunshine.

 

 

Why is it brown?

 

 

Every bottle in this room is brown.

 

 

Every single bottle.

 

 

Maybe Gustavo was right.

Maybe-

 

 

Maybe you gotta grow up

with dirt under your finger.

 

 

I don't- I don't know.