Sideways has long been one of my favourite films, the hugely enjoyable bittersweet tale of two ill-matched old friends, Miles (Paul Giamatti) and Jack (Thomas Haden Church), enjoying a celebratory trip road trip to the vineyards of the Santa Ynez Valley in California the week before Jack’s wedding.
Miles is a Pinot Noir-obsessed writer weighed down by his broken marriage and broken dreams and Jack is an over-sexed former soap star looking for a “last taste of freedom”. Miles is on a quest to find that elusive, perfect Pinot, whilst Jack will drink (and go to bed with) anything. Much wine is drunk and much merriment and much mayhem ensues.
Miles’s fixation is all too believable, because of all the grape varieties Pinot Noir is the most unreliable and frustrating, for both producers and consumers alike. Not for nothing is it known as the heartbreak grape.
“It’s a hard grape to grow,” says Miles in the movie. “It’s thin-skinned, temperamental. It’s not a survivor like Cabernet that can grow anywhere and thrive even when neglected. Pinot needs constant care and attention…”
In one of my favourite scenes, set in a winery’s tasting room, Miles gives Jack a lengthy dissertation on how to assess a wine, how to measure its colour and brightness, how to gauge its aroma and how to taste it. Jack looks on uncomprehendingly. “But when do we get to drink it?” he demands. When Miles finally does get round to taking a small sip, sluicing and slurping noisily, eyes firmly closed in solemn appreciation, Jack downs his glass in one. Miles is appalled by such gaucherie and just as he turns to remonstrate with his ignorant friend he is struck by an awful thought. “Are you chewing gum?” he cries.
The other night we had a fine Spectator reader outing to see Sideways at the theatre. It has been adapted for the stage by the author of the original novel (upon which the movie was based), Rex Pickett, and it’s a hoot. The story remains the same, more or less, and so fine was the acting from Daniel Weyman (Miles), Simon Harrison (Jack), Ellie Piercy (Maya) and Beth Cordingly (Terra) that the filmic originals were chased firmly from my mind.
To quench our thirst there was plenty of fine California Pinot Noir (and Chardonnay) in the bar, courtesy of Sanford Winery, which we were able to take into the auditorium. Best of all, Spectator readers were invited upstairs after the show with the cast for a private tasting of three of Sanford’s wines, the earthy, fruity, spicy, soft 2010 Pinot Noir being the absolute highlight.
One thing still puzzles me though. In the film, Miles eulogises Pinot Noir to the rooftops and shows nothing but frequent and vociferous contempt for both Merlot and Cabernet Franc. “No, if anyone orders Merlot, I’m leaving,” he says furiously to Jack in a restaurant. “I am NOT drinking any ******* Merlot!”
And his comments had quite an effect. In the four weeks immediately after the movie’s release in 2005, wine drinkers in America famously bought 22 per cent more Pinot Noir than in the same period the previous year whilst sales of Merlot and Cabernet Franc plummeted and are only now recovering a decade later.
How is it then, that in the movie the most treasured bottle in Miles’s possession, the special-occasion-bottle he drinks alone in a diner in a very touching scene near the end, is none other than a bottle of 1961 Ch. Cheval Blanc? A wine made exclusively from Merlot and Cabernet Franc apart from a splash of Cabernet Sauvignon. And how come this role of iconic wine is played by a bottle of 1982 Ch. Latour – another Merlot/Cab Franc-laden, resolutely Pinot Noir-free wine – in the stage version?
It makes no sense. Surely it should be a bottle of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti at the very least…
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