A Good Year (2006)
Max Skinner: [sticking his fist out of the sun roof] LANCE ARMSTRONG!
group of french cyclists: [grumbling and flicking him off] Fuck you!
Uncle Henry Skinner: You'll come to see that a man learns nothing from winning. The act of losing, however, can elicit great wisdom. Not least of which is, uh... how much more enjoyable it is to win. It's inevitable to lose now and again. The trick is not to make a habit of it.
Uncle Henry Skinner: Max, have I told you why I enjoy making wine so much?
Young Max: You don't make the wine, Uncle Henry - that guy Duflot does.
Uncle Henry Skinner: [Reproachfully] In France it's always the landowner who makes the wine, even though he does nothing more than supervise with binoculars from the comfort of his study. No, I enjoy making wine, because this sublime nectar is quite simply incapable of lying. Picked too early, picked too late, it matters not - the wine will always whisper into your mouth with complete, unabashed honesty every time you take a sip.
Max Skinner: Forgive my lips. They find joy in the most unusual places.
Max Skinner: Ludivine? Don't you think this is a bit much? I mean, she is my cousin.
Ludivine Duflot: Almost all French aristocrat have, how you say... liaison with their cousins, yes?
Fanny Chenal: [to Max Skinner] I'm sorry, I'm too busy to ignore you now.
Max Skinner: This place does not suit my life.
Fanny Chenal: No Max, it's your life that does not suit this place.
Christie Roberts: I love your accent.
Charlie Willis: I love your bum.
Fanny Chenal: There's something you should know about me, Max. I'm very, very choosy... I'm also very, very suspicious; very, very irrational, and I have a very, very short temper. I'm also extremely jealous and slow to forgive. Just so you know.
Max Skinner: [greeting two attractive women in a wine bar] Lucy! Ah, didn't know you two knew each other. Whoops.
Max Skinner: I have an obligatory cultural activity in the village tonight.
Charlie Willis: Can I come? Will there be girls?
Max Skinner: No and yes.
Max Skinner: Kenny, I want the 10 year yield, I want the figures for the Andserson account and I want you to get your scrawny little arse out of my chair. Thank you.
Kenny: How did he know?
Max Skinner: [after hiring Max a smart car] This is because I didn't shag you at the Christmas party isn't it.
Gemma: I swear on my life the hire company didn't have any other cars.
Max Skinner: When's my appointment with the notaire?
Gemma: A little over an hour from now.
Max Skinner: My time or your time?
Max Skinner: Gemma!
Max Skinner: [dealing with two obnoxious tourists] Macdonalds is in Avignon, fish and chips in Marseille. Allez.
Sir Nigel: [yells] Have I finished talking? When I finish talking that's when you talk and it had better be good.
Max Skinner: [points to his shirt] Fred Perry.
Francis Duflot: [points to his cap] René Lacoste.
Francis Duflot: Francis Duflot, vigneron.
Christie Roberts: Christie Roberts, illegitimate daughter.
Gemma: Max Skinner's phone?
Kimberly: Hi, it's Kimberly. Is Max there?
Gemma: Just one moment.
Gemma: It's Kimberly?
[Max does the "cut off" sign]
Gemma: Sorry Kimberly, Max isn't here right now.
Kimberly: Where is he?
Gemma: Max and his fiancée are at their wedding rehearsal today.
[Max gives Gemma the thumbs up]
Kimberly: Their what?
Gemma: Would you like to leave a message?
Kimberly: No I wouldn't!
Charlie Willis: I nursed you through second degree burns. My fingers are damaged.
Christie Roberts: Frostbitten
Charlie Willis: Like your heart.
Christie Roberts: That's what people want. Not some wimpy wine from Luberon.
Kenny: [reading "fan mail"] You're my hero.
Max Skinner: Who wrote that?
Kenny: Your lawyer.
Fanny Chenal: Do you know why I spent the night with you? So that now you have done what you came here to do, you will not return. For us there can be no future. There is certainty in that.
Charlie Willis: So the house is falling apart and vineyard makes undrinkable wine. Excellent.
Charlie Willis: Well this is a disaster. Mr Froggy Wine Man has just knocked a million off our sale price.
Max Skinner: Kenny, why don't you go and find some small animals to hurt? I know, find a poodle and punt it off the balcony.
Francis Duflot: I cannot work with this woman! Jamais! Never! I love her, she is like Henry... with a nice ass.
Max Skinner: [as the diving board breaks and he falls into the empty pool] Bollocks.
Francis Duflot: You know what Proust said. Leave pretty women to men without imagination.
Max Skinner: Francis, I'm a banker. I have no imagination.
Max Skinner: You tried to drown me.
Fanny Chenal: And you tried to run me over in your little car.
Oenologue: It is completely dead. I would suggest growing potatoes or squash.
Gemma: That's a lot of zeros Max.
Max Skinner: Or a partnership for life. My choice.
Gemma: Now you listen to mummy, Maxy. Partner, you're made for life. Sir Nigel didn't become a partner until he was 53 and look at him.
Max Skinner: Yeah. Look at him.
Christie Roberts: I spend summers working in a vineyard in California.
Francis Duflot: [Chuckles] In California, they don't make wine. They make Hawaiian Punch.
Christie Roberts: Are your memories of my father good?
Max Skinner: No they are extraordinary. My uncle loved women, although no one for a long time, and he never married. He loved England, yet lived in France. He was an adventurer, yet all my memories take place within 100 steps of this spot.
Fanny Chenal: [Fanny approaches a customer who is behind a raised newspaper] Bonjour. Vous avez choisi?
Max Skinner: [lowers newspaper] I think so.
Fanny Chenal: [recognizing him] You sure you don't need more time?
Max Skinner: No, I know what I want.
Fanny Chenal: You're sure?
Max Skinner: Absolutely.
Fanny Chenal: So, what is it to be?
Max Skinner: How's the soup?
Fanny Chenal: The soup is finished.
Max Skinner: Like my job... The fish?
Fanny Chenal: We've run out.
Max Skinner: That's like me with excuses.
Fanny Chenal: Don't waste my time. Choose something we have.
Max Skinner: I would like a lifetime spent with an irrational and suspicious goddess, some short-tempered jealousy on the side, and a bottle of wine that tastes like you, a glass that's never empty.
Uncle Henry Skinner: [Bringing out two bottles of wine] I thought, as it's your last night here, it only appropriate that we open something extra special.
Young Max: [Pointing to one of the bottles] Bandol.
Uncle Henry Skinner: Excellent choice. Tempier Bandol, 1969, the kind of wine that'll pickle even the toughest of men. I once saw a Castilian prizefighter collapse in a heap after drinking just a single glass. Perhaps my knee landing squarely in his testicles may have been partly to blame... What was I talking about before?
Young Max: You said the importance of a good blue suit can never be overstated.
Uncle Henry Skinner: Quite right. A blue suit is the most versatile of accoutrements. More important than the suit itself, is the man who fits it for you. Once you find a good tailor, you must never give his name away - not even under the threat of bodily harm.
Max Skinner: Good morning, lab rats.
Assembled traders and staff: Good morning, Max.
Max Skinner: Today we're shifting gears. Today... is "greedy bastard" day.
[Assembled traders and staff let out a murmur of excitement]
Max Skinner: The secret to riches, lab rats, is the same as the secret to comedy: timing.
Charlie Willis: [Calling from London] How's the house, Max? Is it gorgeous?
Max Skinner: Well, to tell you the truth, Charlie, it's a little shabby.
Charlie Willis: We don't say "shabby," Max. We say "filled with the patina of a bygone era."
Max Skinner: [Surprised at the make of tractor he finds in the work-shed] A 'Lamborghini' tractor!
Max Skinner: Look, I wasn't joking about what I said before about the wine they make here. It is not - I repeat, NOT - first class. Will that affect our price?
Charlie Willis: Well, how bad can it be?
Max Skinner: Uh, well, it gives you a blinding headache and it makes you angry... I can't imagine the damage a second sip might do.
Charlie Willis: Well, we'll just have to make sure our buyers don't know anything about wine. We'll concentrate on the Americans.
Francis Duflot: [Offering his hand] A Frenchman's hand is his word... Concord?
Max Skinner: [Reluctantly shaking hands] An Englishman's word is his bond... Deal.
Max Skinner: [Walking away, muttering] Frog toss-pot!
Francis Duflot: [Walking away, muttering] English prick!
Max Skinner: [Upon first encountering Christie, at the door] The only country that issues teeth like that is America.
Christie Roberts: Oh... you speak English.
Max Skinner: Like a native.
Christie Roberts: Huh! Back in Napa, we're known to gargle and spit on occasion.
Max Skinner: Well, well. Guess who knows a thing or two about wine?
Christie Roberts: Did you know that dad mixed a martini for Winston Churchill? He also danced a waltz with Amelia Earhart in 1975.
Max Skinner: Well, considering that Amelia Earhart died in the 1930's, that's a perfect example of the type of exaggerator Uncle Henry was. Want to know the real Uncle Henry? Not the one your overactive imagination is manufacturing? The *real* Henry Skinner was a man so afraid of committing to the real world, that he retreated from life to drink and shag his way to a lonely and loveless end.
Christie Roberts: [Speaking to Max] If this place meant as much to him as I believe it did, you're worse than I thought for even *thinking* about selling it... I'll leave tomorrow.
Gemma: [re: Kenny assuming Max's place as head of the trading department] He's even taking credit for your trade this week. He's telling everyone in the office that HE's the one who gave you the idea.
Max Skinner: [Unconcerned] Well, if he wasn't an ambitious and mercenary little bastard, I never would have given him the job in the first place.
Francis Duflot: [Presenting various home-cooked dishes at the dinner gathering] ... and finally, civette of wild boar, marinated in red wine, and blood pressed from the carcass.
Max Skinner: Why would you have it any other way?
Ludivine Duflot: Papa still speaks Provencal, you know?
Francis Duflot: Oh, but very few still understand it. It's now exclusively practiced by poets and sodomites.
Ludivine Duflot: Hmm... what a "sodomite" is, by the way?
Francis Duflot: Ah, we'll explain you tonight.
Max Skinner: Your asparagus is - is lovely.
Ludivine Duflot: Thank you!
Max Skinner: Very chewy, but... lovely.
Francis Duflot: [Bringing out a special bottle of wine] C'est "Le Coin Perdu"... it's a local vin de garage.
Max Skinner: [confused] "Vin de garage"?
Christie Roberts: It's a "garage wine." Like a boutique wine. Small vineyards, small productions - *seriously* big prices.
Francis Duflot: [dismissively] It's overrated.
Christie Roberts: It didn't say that on the Web. Turns out "Le Coin Perdu" is a Provencal legend. It changes hands among collectors, but nobody knows who makes it.
Francis Duflot: In California, they don't make wine, they make Hawaiian Punch.
Christie Roberts: Mondavi might argue with that one.
Christie Roberts: Max, all I want is to learn about my father. This is my chance to find out who made me and... I don't care if you believe me or not.
Charlie Willis: [Calling from London] Hello... You working out on the house?
Max Skinner: Charlie, yes. At it since daybreak.
Charlie Willis: Really... I hate to think of you, toiling down there all on your own.
Max Skinner: Well, we're English, Charlie, you know? Born to rule and sacrifice.
Charlie Willis: Yes...
Fanny Chenal: [Max has brought a bottle of the rare wine] Wow - "Le Coin Perdu"? I've never actually seen a bottle...
Max Skinner: Have you heard of it?
Fanny Chenal: It's expensive... Are you trying to seduce me, Max?
Max Skinner: Oh gosh, no, of course not. Thought would never even cross my mind. Not more than six, or ten times.
Sir Nigel: [Noticing Max admiring a valuable painting on the wall] Van Gogh.
Max Skinner: I hope you've got a good lock on the door, sir.
Sir Nigel: Don't be soft. It's not real. The REAL one's in my vault. It's a copy. Two hundred grand for a knockoff... Sit!
Uncle Henry Skinner: [Voiceover narration] Dear Max - I know it's been many years since we last spoke. But I find myself in a bit of a jam, and I'm afraid I need your help. The thing is, Max old boy, I'm dying. I know this because, uh, Dr. Karr, my physician, has stopped talking about my health and begun discussing the weather. Convinced that Death, like all tradesmen, would be unable to find my front door, and always having believed wills to be an open invitation to the Reaper, I find myself impelled to impress upon your kindness. I have a daughter. Her name is Christie Roberts. Sadly, we have never met. Her mother's name is Allison. She was a tour guide at a tiny vineyard in northern California. Max, I should like you to find her. And to this end, I would like to leave her what is rightfully hers. I hope this decision doesn't hurt your feelings, and as successful as you are, you don't need it. I hope you understand. Because even in its present state, La Siroque is a place of magic, and it is my heartfelt wish that Christie should share in that magic. I like to think of her here. After all, she and La Siroque are all I leave behind. Your loving uncle, Henry Skinner.
Fanny Chenal: And remember you're in France: The customer is always wrong!