For some reason, films about wine and wine country seem to be designed for the cotton-headed ninny-muggins amongst us.  Granted, I’m neither a big fan of wine, wine country, or these films… but French Kiss, A Good Year, and A Walk in the Clouds were all rather addled paeans that completely lacked objectivity.  “I’m in love with wine and wine country,” they yodeled, “and I don’t care who knows it!”

I’ve yet to see Sideways, oddly enough, so I’ll have to take the word of many others who claim that it not only accurately praised the love of wine, but was also powerful enough to entertain (and even sway) non-oenophiles.  Charisma seems to have been central to the success of Sideways, though—not the wine itself, or the metaphor-laden dialogue that bottles up such films.  Without the quirky chemistry between Paul Giamatti and Thomas Haden Church, I’m still not sure that much would have come from Sideways.

Some critics, though, suspect that we had Sideways to thank for A Good Year, which sent Russell Crowe—talk about charisma!—into the French countryside to discover his, ah, roots.  And they may have been right.  But Crowe’s second pairing with director Ridley Scott was a match made in a soporific stupor, and that film failed to connect with any audience, much less its target demographic.  Can I say it withered on the vine?  Or is that too much?

I’m certain, though, that we do have Sideways to thank for bringing us the “true tale” of Bottle Shock… and I do think some thanks are indeed in order, though there’s still enough ninny-muggins in this particular vintage to call it a corked film.

The charisma this time out is amply supplied by the always-enjoyable Alan Rickman, who plays Brit Steven Spurrier, an expat oenophile and entrepreneur who runs—or attempts to run—a wine “academy” in 1976 Paris.  To drum up business, Spurrier and his tour-agent chum dream up the idea of a wine-tasting contest that will pit the products of America’s nascent Napa Valley industry against the finest that France has always had to offer.

The Napa vintner who is central to the plot is Jim Barrett, played in a gruffly welcome (if not gripping) fashion by Bill Pullman.  Barrett knows a wine snob when he sees one, and Spurrier—who helps the exposition out by touring through Napa country—is the real deal.  Entertainingly so, as one might imagine.

But the center of this story is really about three free spirits: Gustavo, an Hispanic Napa native with deep roots in both wine and the soil; Sam, a summer intern who wants to learn all about wine making and wine country; and Bo, Jim’s slacker son.  Sadly, there’s only a hint of charisma and chemistry with these three, either individually or as a love triangle.  Gustavo and Sam do have one very nice scene (which you’ve probably seen bits of in the trailer) when she, uh, samples Gustavo’s vintage.  But after that point, Gustavo kind of becomes an also-ran as the tale turns back to the Big Tasting.  Too bad.  Gustavo’s story is the most interesting of the various subplots, and Freddy Rodriguez is always interesting to watch.

But that’s the kind of thing that keeps Bottle Shock from being anything but a decently entertaining film that plays very well to its target demographic.  Too often, interesting characters or storylines get shuffled off into the periphery in favor “being true to the story,” or bogging things down with extended subplots and exposition about oxidation and chardonnay. 

And, of course, there’s that ninny-muggins stuff, such as the giggles elicited from the audience when the spendthrift snob Spurrier shows up in Napa driving a squeaky Gremlin (obtained from which rental company, exactly?), or when Sam finally gets her first lecture from Jim after she’s already been at the winery for several days (or even weeks, I think).  By the time a local postman strolls up into the vineyard to hand-deliver a telegram—either I don’t remember 1976 very well, or USPS and Western Union work differently in Napa than they do in Seattle—your eyes may be a little tired of rolling.

The central wine metaphor in this film is the idea, as Spurrier articulates it, that “great wine is great art.”  The same is obviously true for film; and in that vein, Bottle Shock is more a Gallo than a Montelena.  If the film is looking for “an enthusiastic advocate,” I’m not that guy.

But hey—at least Bottle Shock is not the cinematic equivalent of Thunderbird.  And as I understand it, Gallo is a decent enough everyday wine… if you’re not a snob.

Bottle Shock is rated PG-13 for brief strong language, some sexual content and a scene of drug use.  This is pretty mild stuff, really.  If Footloose didn’t offend you, for instance, I highly doubt this will.

Courtesy of a local publicist, Greg attended a press screening of Bottle Shock.