Two Wine Films Reviewed

Ian Parr is unconvinced by Jonathon Nosseter’s Mondovino

‘Terroir’ is a French word, which many French people would translate to mean that if a wine is not made in France, then it’s no good. Jonathon Nosseter’s film Mondovino has made quite a splash in the wine world. Having heard him on French radio explaining the logical relationship between the current Australian government’s support of the Bush Administration and the role of Australian winemakers in destroying those wonderful French vignerons’ way of life, I was prepared to get angry at this film. Two and a half long hours later, and despite the rampant agenda, what struck me was how unconvincing his case is.

In Nosseter’s mondo there are good guys and bad guys; Michel Rolland, a flying winemaker to some big-name vineyards in Bordeaux and elsewhere, is bad. Not being able to make him wear a black hat, Nosseter only shows him either on his mobile phone, or getting in and out of his chauffered Mercedes. Despite Nosetter’s efforts, Rolland comes over as good-humoured, sensible… and rich.

Which brings me to the real problem I have with this film: few of the wines discussed could be bought for less than 50 euro, and most would cost much more. The people who make those wines, and the people who drink them, are a tiny fraction of the real world of wine. Nosseter’s snobby, supercilious mondo of vino is quite removed from the real issues that confront the world’s winemakers, and the wine-drinking public. And quality and price, and the relationship of the two, are central. This applies equally to big groups like Mondavi and Orlando or to the small family-run operations that one finds in all wine-producing countries. I’ve visited a lot of vineyards in France and Australia over the last ten years; big or small, famous or unknown, what impresses always is the passion, commitment and knowledge.

Nosseter spends a lot of the film being upset at standardisation in winemaking. Perhaps there is some tendency towards this in his chosen 100 euro-a-bottle bracket, but in general there has never been more variety, as forgotten varieties of grape are identified (thanks to DNA), rediscovered, replanted; in every wine country well-heeled enthusiasts throw themselves, and their money, into winemaking just for the love of it, often in the deliberate anticipation of no economic return. What has changed is that winemakers today understand the physics and chemistry of winemaking, so that quality and reliability have improved generally.

In my lifetime I’ve seen my native land of Australia change from a nation of beer drinkers to wine drinkers. And accessible, standardised wines were pivotal to that transformation. Hardly anyone still drinks Bin 65, but it got just about everyone started. Can Jacob’s Creek do the same thing in the USA? And what about France? Domestic consumption is in decline and the average age of wine drinkers there is rising. Coupled with this is the loss of export markets, not so much in Nosseter’s niche, but in the vastly more important 10-20 euro-a-bottle area. So the French blame the public’s poor taste and lack of discernment and rant that foreign winemakers ‘unfairly’ compete because their governments haven’t imposed on them the burdens of bureaucracy and administration that the French have imposed on themselves. No answers from Nosseter on any of this, although he did seem to take sides with the Communist council that kept Mondavi out of the Languedoc. Strange bedfellows. In his ideal mondovino Nosseter would no doubt solve problems by decree.

Jancis Robinson spent a whole day being interviewed by Nosseter without making it into this long film. She probably didn’t say anything he agreed with. Michael Broadbent appears only to disparage the work of Michel Rolland. Rolland’s Bordeaux customers, the Schyler family, have to spend 10 minutes explaining their vineyard’s equivocal attitude to occupying Nazis, over 60 years ago. But remember, these are the bad guys. The older Burgundian vigneron, Hubert de Montille of Volnay, who is a good guy, doesn’t have to explain his role in dealing with that army of occupation. Michael Mondavi shows Nosseter around his Napa vineyard. Nosseter shows his virtuosity in the romance languages by asking the Mexican workers, in Spanish, about their conditions. Mondavi says, in Spanish, how much he appreciates the Mexican workers for their tradition of working with vines. Nosseter then asks Mondavi if he employs any Mexican winemakers. No. See, I told you, Mondavi is a bad guy.

Aimé Guibert of the Mas de Daumas Gassac didn’t have to answer this line of questioning, but he’s a good guy. Nor were questions put to his workers. (No doubt the questions would have had to be put in Arabic, and, secondly, I can’t imagine Guibert tolerating such impertinence.) Nosseter’s mind is made up, and what doesn’t mesh with his mondo video is deleted.

Yet despite all this biased editing, Nosseter fails to make his case; in the first place the facts are so obviously against him. In the old and the new world there have never been so many independent producers, all striving for excellence in their niche (which I repeat is mostly not the $100-a-bottle niche of Nosseter’s.) And Nosseter’s bad guys look more like nice people whom a con-man is attempting to swindle.

Nevertheless all this goes down a treat in France, where agreement and sympathy will excuse a lack of intellectual rigour. But it won’t do the French wine world any good since it comforts the illusion of ‘terroir’, and further delays a serious rethink.

I’ll leave you with this food for thought: Pernod-Ricard is a major French drinks company; Pernod-Ricard owns the Australian wine company Orlando; Orlando makes Jacob’s Creek. Does this make Jacob’s Creek the number-one-selling French wine.

John McKenna is amused by the delicious insights of the ‘Wine’ comedy, Sideways

The best thing about Alexander Payne's 'wine' comedy, Sideways, is that it doesn't take wine seriously.

Just as the movie's quartet of protagonists are about to have dinner, for example, leading misanthrope Miles screams, "If anyone orders merlot, I'm leaving!". Immediately we understand that his obsession with wine is actually an inhibitor to his social life, rather than the liberator it should be. It takes the smart Maya to spell out what appreciating wine is actually all about. Maya likes wine because "It tastes so fucking good".

Alexander Payne's movie is – like a good pinot noir – bittersweet. A Californian wine trip by two mis-matched buddies provides the context for a comedic view of mid-life crisis masculinity.

Nerdy Miles and jocky Jack, the former still trying to get over his divorce, the latter determined to get laid before he gets married, embarking on a Californian road trip sounds like cliché incarnate: the yin and yang, the buddy-buddy, the Dionysian and the intellectual.

But, what counts with Sideways is the comedic subversion of these clichés that Payne and his co-writer Jim Taylor wring out of an unselfconscious and understated cinema. And the comedy is further helped by a sense of hopefulness that means we engage with these cardboard characters.

Payne gets the most out of his quartet of actors: even though his working methods are obsessively detailed, there is a improvisatory quality to the acting that whistles the story along and, here and there, we do get some delicious insights into the whys and wherefores of being obsessed with the grape. So, get the dvd, open a good bottle, and summon up your own clichés: is Sideways beautifully mature? Are you amused by its presumption? Has the script got good legs? Is it insouciant, cheeky, perky?

Well, maybe it's better to let Alexander Payne write the jokes.

Sideways is out now on DVD.