Terroir-ists

Steven Malanga criticizes Mondovino, a Michael-Moore style documentary on the "evils" of globalization in re the world of wine as ham-handed.

When he interviews one of the modernists, Nossiter always starts the camera rolling as he approaches the vineyard in question, and shows himself being welcomed by secretaries, press representatives (indeed “press attaché” is one of the most common titles used in the film), or marketing functionaries. By contrast, he films the traditionalists toiling in their vineyards, as if they are all quaint, small-time men of the land—the salt of the earth. But some of the traditional winemakers are in fact major players--anything but defenseless little guys.

Malanga gives the film way too much credit.

Dragged to see it by the winemaking half of the family about 18 hours after my flight to the left coast, I could cheerfully have killed the filmmaker, his quaint winemakers, their dogs--about every two seconds the film cuts to some hideous hound picturesquely sniffing something--and every wine drinker in the western hemisphere by the time the film was through.

For starters, the movie clocks in at way over two hours. Since anyone with half a brain "gets" the message within 30 seconds of the opening credits, one hardly needs to be pounded over the head for another two-and-a-half hours with the message. We get it: Toothless old guys toiling in the fields=Good. Smarmy wine consultants jetting around the world with a cell phone in their ear=Bad.

Further, the director brings before the camera the Italian and French winemakers who have gone over to the modernist side and asks them whether their families collaborated with the Germans (in the case of the French) or the Fascists (in the case of the Italians) during World War II, as if this were relevant to the wine debate. Throughout the movie, the modernists appear as collaborators (with American tastes, now) and the traditionalists as members of the resistance.

And then there's all the pretentious little touches. I've already mentioned the dogs. Then there's the handheld camera, employed far too often and to nauseating effect. There's also a kind of desperate effort to make the good guys look colorful, "real," if you will. Like some sort of Bruegel painting come to life. Thus we get the close ups of the bad teeth and a series of scenes in which one of the good guys--I can no longer remember who--has something oozing out of his nose, or maybe stuck in his nose. It's hard to tell. Apparently these guys are so authentic, there's no need for anyone to tell them to zip up their fly, wipe their nose or comb their hair before going on camera. Those goofy peasants! They're so real!

Michael Moore may have a lot to answer for but at least Roger and Me was amusing if you squinted hard and didn't think about it too much.

This, well, this is another story.