Though it’s hard to believe, over 30 years ago wines from countries other than France and Italy were considered rubbish. Of course, it wasn’t true. But since the French controlled everything about the culture of the grape, their disdain meant no one took outsider vineyards seriously.
In 1976, all that changed. During the year of America’s Bicentennial, a British merchant working in Paris came to California looking for participants for his exclusive wine-tasting competition. He hoped to raise awareness of his failing shop and solidify his place in the snobbish wine society. Instead, winemonger Stephen Spurrier made history, and his accidental discoveries sent international palettes into something akin to Bottle Shock. Now, decades since the US became part of cultured world cuisine, director Randall Miller offers up a serio-comic take on the event and, for the most part, it’s as tasty as a well-aged Burgundy.
When we first meet the Barrett family – father Jim (Bill Pullman) and son Bo (Chris Pine) – they are on the verge of bankruptcy. While their Chateau Montelena creates fantastic wines, no one outside the locals knows about them. The market is wholly owned by the Europeans. Hoping to learn something about life in a vineyard, college intern Sam (Rachel Taylor) arrives. She quickly befriends Bo and his buddy – and secret winemaking savant – Gustavo Brambila (Freddy Rodriguez). Meanwhile, Spurrier (Alan Rickman) is desperate to keep his snooty store afloat. On the advice of expatriate Maurice (Dennis Farina), he creates a competition to find the best wines in the world. But once he arrives in the US, the connoisseur is surprised at the quality of wine – especially coming out of the struggling Barrett business.
Since we know the outcome in advance (American labels are now famous all over the globe), Bottle Shock has to get by on character and charm. It wants to balance the last fleeting days of ’60’s hippy hedonism with the intricacies of successful vinification to champion an uber-USA nationalism. Director Miller relies on the breeziest kind of nostalgia, a wistfulness where all problems are punished by a healthy dose of positive mental attitude and an era-appropriate song or two. He gives us both sides of the Barrett dilemma – a dad too serious to see beyond his failures and a son too surfer-dude to take anything (except sex) seriously. Together they form the yin and yang of a narrative on its way to American enological supremacy.
Rickman is the slapstick stranger in a strange land here, to use his stiff upper Brit wit as ballast for what is otherwise the standard comic snob. Similarly, Pine is poised as part Jesus, part joke, a Merlot messiah unable to see his value to his parent or to their particular grape. Many of the plot points here feel too pat, as if scooting over the more troublesome facts of the real-life events.
Still, thanks to its inherently interesting subject matter (who knew US efforts were so abhorred prior to ’76?) and the genial demeanour of the cast, Bottle Shock becomes a satisfying, if slightly syrupy entertainment. It’s not to be savoured so much as sipped and sampled for what it is.

Bill Gibron