Original subtitles

Looking back on that first day with you,

I think I understood immediately

why human beings are compelled to create.

Why we must find some way to lay down our lives,

however best we can.

Barbe-Nicole Clicquot,

welcome to the vineyards of Verzy.

The most beautiful in all of Champagne.

It is so that we might uncover

the secrets of ourselves,

better understand the ones we love.

The time and place in which we live.

And that with any luck, 100 years from now,

someone will know that we were here.

Can we be a secret?

I mean,

can we live in a hideaway?

Our whole lives,

just the two of us.

Kept safe from the rest of the world.

We can try...

-Not hidden from each other though.

So, do you agree to be my Emilie?

-Who is Emilie?

The woman

Voltaire was a true partner to...

The love of his life.

It seems impossible

that anything will ever grow here again.

A great hush has settled across the vines.

Your absence clings to everything.

I fear your father blames me, privately,

for all that has happened.

And I fear that I might too.

-Where is Clem?

-You didn't find her?

-Madame. -Madame.

-My heartfelt condolences, Madame.

As neighbors, we feel your loss alongside you.

-Thank you. -Madame,

I wonder if I might walk the vineyards,

to remember François.

-Of course, Monsieur Moët. It's very kind.

-Those beautiful slopes will always remind me of him.

-Yes.

-I am going to walk the terraces on my way home.

- There you are.

Oh, Clem.

Clem?

It will be just the two of us now.

But we have each other.

We have each other, my darling.

And what do you smell?

-Floral. Like our rose garden...

in June, after a rain shower.

And burning leaves.

-Mm-hm. -And twigs.

-An apple orchard when the trees are at their tallest...

-What do you think about blending these two?

It could be quite... -No... not together.

Or do you want more acidity?

-You did want me to speak my mind.

-Yes. Foolishly.

Please do not learn as quickly as your mother,

because I want to be able to teach you something.

One little something.

-Madame?

There will be a meeting downstairs

that Phillipe would like you to attend.

-A meeting?

-Evidently, Paquet has drawn up a contract

for the sale of the hectares.

-Is it true?

Barbe-Nicole, let me put your mind at ease.

I want you and Clementine to live comfortably,

without any worry at all.

-Thank you.

-Monsieur Paquet here has secured a very handsome offer

for the property from Moët.

-Afternoon.

-I appreciate your... kindness.

But out of concern for François' vines,

I will be continuing to care for them myself.

-Wine is a very difficult vocation, my dear.

You underestimate what it will require of you.

-I know what it requires.

I've been in the fields for years.

-As a partner with François, Madame.

Not alone.

-It is not your place, Madame.

-I cannot allow you to go to your ruin.

Come back to Reims with me.

-Could you and I speak alone, Phillipe?

-Yes, of course.

-Have you seen those beautiful purples and reds

this year, Phillipe?

Is their climb not the best we have had yet?

Those are François Clicquot grapes,

and his dream is living in them.

-You risk losing everything by staying here.

Do you think that is what François would have wanted?

François willed the vines to me

because he knew I would never sell.

I will be using my own savings

to cover the vineyard's expenses.

-You have not heard me, my dear.

-Have you not heard me?

Those are François' vines,

and you want to sell them.

-Paquet? Droite?

Gentlemen, we will not sell.

Barbe-Nicole will continue here for the time being.

If I may, sir... I think...

No, Paquet. You may not.

That is all.

I have come to sing to them since I was a boy.

It's supposed to make them strong.

You try.

- No. - Go on!

-I can't!

They need it.

They need you.

They like you.

-They do?

-They think you're perfect.

We'll take Clem with us today,

out of this sad house.

It's our home.

Clem wants to stay with me.

-Barbe, you must think of her.

No sense in keeping her out of the abbey

to help you with your grief, my dear.

She should be with friends to help her with hers.

-Thank you, Mother.

You didn't know him, Mother.

He was not just someone's first love.

My darling Emilie,

I felt compelled to write to you

this glorious summer morning

to let you know that I think we might have found it.

The secret to perfect happiness.

With each day, my love for you grows stronger, fiercer.

It drenches me the way the sun drenches the vines.

I am certain of nothing in this life

but the fact of your strength.

I am hopelessly, unequivocally yours.

-Madame, Mr. Edouard Werler.

He has come from the offices of Mr. Phillipe Clicquot in Reims.

-Good day, Mr. Werler.

Good day, Madame.

Your father-in-law has sent me

with the financial record of the vineyard.

He wants you to be apprised of your situation.

I apologize for coming without warning.

Please.

-I am to take them back with me.

-Are you a clerk at his office?

I am, Madame.

In accounts.

-Will you assist me?

If you'd like.

The first column is expenditures,

the second is profits, the third losses,

and the fourth projected earnings.

Because of the loss of the last harvest,

there were expenditures but no profit.

The next harvest will only recoup that loss.

And the truth is,

your competition will monopolize the market in France, Madame...

if no one can sell abroad

due to Napoleon's embargoes against his enemies.

So you will not sell next year either.

Thank you.

Will you thank Phillipe for me?

And tell him that I insisted upon keeping the ledgers.

-Uh...

Madame.

You said there would be a profit by this year.

The new planting has not yielded.

-Yes, sir, I apologize for overstating.

Many of your experiments...

- Innovations... - have floundered!

-How do we know?!

How do we know?

It's too soon...

It's too soon to know, Father... these are radical ideas.

And there is decent improvement this year,

even with the excessive heat.

You can't just keep endlessly

experimenting without results.

Perhaps it's time to admit defeat now.

François!

-Droite never walks the fields.

He doesn't know the vines. He doesn't know what they need.

He doesn't want to nurture them.

He doesn't understand how complex they are.

-He doesn't love them.

This is the transfor... What?

-Transformative?

Moment for them?

Yes.

-I am afraid for the vineyard if anyone else manages it.

They have no right, interrupting...

-Well... he is the estate manager;

therefore, he thinks he has the right.

-But you, you are the one with the vision,

and the talent, to change things.

You will change things.

You're always in the vineyard.

-And I like having you in the vineyard with me.

-And I like having you in the house with me, Mother.

-Will you cut flowers with me then?

-I like the pink ones,

and the white ones, and the yellow ones!

As ever, the quiet prevails.

A new loneliness presses in,

but I will continue the work you started.

Louis Boone will arrive at noon.

I welcome a friendly face at last.

Tomorrow I face the workers alone,

for the first time.

Give me strength, my love.

Give me strength.

First, the new vines will be planted

in a north-south configuration.

The upper slope will be pulled up and turned.

Uhm...

Droite...

do you have an opinion?

-Yes I do, Madame.

These fields do not need replanting,

reconfiguring, or starting over again.

-I disagree.

Water is collecting at the roots.

-The rain is good for the vines, Madame.

-They need to struggle.

-Struggle? -When they struggle to survive,

they become more deeply reliant on their own strength.

They become more of what they are meant to be.

Mr. Muller, where do we think we could find premium glass?

-We have glass in stock, Madame.

-I want quality glass without defects.

We can't afford to lose another vintage.

-We were meant to buy premium glass, Madame.

But your husband decided to save money.

Monsieur Bohne will attest to the dangers in that.

And if Muller is out searching for glass, which is my job,

who is going to run the fields, which is his?

Because you have not done this before,

I cannot blame you for not understanding

how a vineyard is run.

Without a strict adherence to hierarchy,

there is chaos,

anarchy.

-I don't see it as a hierarchy.

What do you see it as?

-A wheel. A circle.

We are sitting together at the table.

We will trade ideas, including everyone in the decision.

-You make it sound like a dinner party.

-These are mine and my husband's ideas.

He thinks I'm inept.

-Are you seeking his approval?

-If Phillipe listens to him, I might need to have it.

-But I was asking you:

Are you seeking his approval, regardless of Phillipe?

It appears he plans to undermine you with the workers.

But I could see they are loyal to you.

-What do you think? Am I inept?

-Well, he's right about some things.

The wheel is a beautiful notion,

but it's destined to fail.

If you are not willing to dictate without hesitation,

you may lose the respect of the men working under you.

You make them uncomfortable.

You undermine a system that they have confidence in.

If you are unforgiving of their mistakes,

they might even idolize you.

I do admire you,

trying to run things as you want,

as a woman would.

-So the ability to listen to others, to collaborate,

is not a sign of strength?

- No.

It might not ever be.

-François would not agree.

-Maybe not, but he was an enlightened soul,

and we have been living under monarchs for too long.

And Napoleon is even worse.

-Do you respect tyrants?

-Do I respect tyrants?

Well, I have been known to fancy a brute or two,

and it has been said I could use a little discipline.

So hierarchy comforts you.

And I must give up my idea of the wheel

because it makes men uncomfortable.

-Because it doesn't project power.

-There is something I want to show you.

Amsterdam, St Petersburg, Moscow...

If Napoleon's embargoes are still a problem,

I want to stay ahead of him.

-Of Napoleon?

-Mm-hm.

-So, you're a criminal at heart?

-These borders are arbitrary, and they could keep changing.

Why not begin a trade that ignores unrest, wars,

that exists on its own?

Stateless, around the globe?

If you choose not to distribute for me...

-My dear, if I choose not to distribute for you,

you won't find anyone who will.

And if I decline your offer,

you must never tell anyone of this plan.

Not a soul.

It's dark.

It's very hard to tell who anyone is

in a bed that large, so I investigate it.

The hair is soft... the body hard!

-No, please...

Emilie! Come, please.

May I introduce Louis Bohne,

perhaps the greatest wine salesman in all the world.

-Madame.

-Welcome. -I read her Voltaire,

but these are... -Please, please, darling!

-her love letters to me.

The sunnier the climate, the more aromatic the berries,

but there is a limit.

Actually, there is nothing more

loving someone could write to me.

My true equal, my partner in everything.

-And what of Voltaire is your favorite, François?

-God is a comedian who plays to an audience...

that is too afraid to laugh!

-And you, Emilie, what is your favorite?

-I should like to lie at your feet

and die in your arms.

I love you.

-It is too soon for you to leave!

I know.

But I must go.

Happy hunting!

-François's last effort.

It's from one of the bottles that survived the loss.

This mix is mine alone.

It's something I have been developing.

Sir.

-Droite.

What did you use?

-The pinot noir, and I left the skin on.

-And the red?

-I would sell it to a maker of inferior wine.

But Madame...

we thought the red must be our first offering.

It's what the buyers have come to expect of this region.

-And what grape do you favor, Madame?

-I favor a more powerful, intense, and precise grape

than most of the makers in the region.

-Why?

-I want the drinker to feel as if

they stand in the vineyard in Verzy,

as if they are tasting the place itself.

The more intense, the more precise the grape,

the more they can...

experience François' unique contribution.

-You have done well, deciding to sell off the red.

And I would continue developing the pink champagne

with the skin on.

The pink is weak, Monsieur. It is too dry.

-Yes, well, your job is to count the vines.

It most certainly is not to judge the quality of the mix,

nor is it to sell the champagne,

which would be my job, would it not?

In the hierarchy?

-Yes, Monsieur.

-I will sell the widow's champagne,

provided the final tasting goes well.

In say, a year.

I will see you and your criminal enterprise then.

There is hope.

A way forward, however unpredictable.

We can dance around the petulant games of powerful men,

but... as ever, we are at the mercy of the seasons.

At last, my love, spring.

The first...

...buds break.

A hot, dry, July.

As the land holds its breath

for the harvest ahead.

We wait in anticipation.

François, your last song has sung the grapes to good health.

All senses feel heightened.

Every moment matters.

The time of day the grapes are picked.

The way they're handled. The first press.

Wish I could bottle this time.

It is a haphazard sort of alchemy.

I want our champagne to have

structure, depth.

It must reflect your elegance.

Your boldness.

Your light.

But I don't want to go to the abbey, Mother.

I don't want you to go either.

The vineyard is no place for a little girl.

-The vineyard is no place for you.

-I know.

This will always be your home.

We belong to it.

-Morning, Barbe.

-Morning.

Will you leave it?

I'd like to do it.

It's ready for Louis.

-So what is it, Barbe?

-François should have been here today.

Thank you.

Happy birthday, my love.

Thank you.

-They are to keep a record of your... discoveries.

-They are beautiful.

-Louis helped me choose them.

-You like him.

-Hm?

Yes. I do.

-I see the way you are with one another.

-Are you jealous? -No.

-Why not?

-Because I know you love me.

And because I believe we must be free to feel

whatever we feel,

so that we never mistake rebellion for reality.

Because I like his company too.

-You like his company?

-I do.

-It was too warm this summer.

And if the rain this winter is anything like last year...

-So we adapt.

I was thinking,

perhaps we could help the vines better this year.

-It's an improvement.

There's character there.

It's not ready.

I'm going to continue mixing.

-Bottle it.

It's time for the second fermentation.

And leave it a few months,

unless you prefer the frog-eyed bigger bubbles.

-No, I prefer the smaller bubbles.

-Madame, George Christian von Kessler.

-Are you married, George?

-I will be interviewing you; pay him no mind.

I really just want to know one thing.

How many women are in your family?

-My mother and my sister, Madame.

-What do your mother and sister think of me?

They worry a woman might not be a capable manager.

-What did you say to that?

-I said, "Aren't you able?

Here in your home.

Why shouldn't she be in hers?"

I know you are in your fields every day.

You work hard, Madame.

-Do you want the position of a field foreman?

-Foreman?

-Yes.

-Will the older staff listen to me?

-If you prove yourself.

I have to prove myself every day.

-Madame.

-He'll need new clothes if they're to respect him.

Anne is an excellent tailor.

Thank you.

Edouard! Come in.

Louis Bohne, the famous.

-Hello. Pleasure. Truly a pleasure.

-Louis, this is Edouard Werler.

He is a gifted accountant.

-Mm.

Yes. Well, I will leave you to it.

I can see you know exactly what sort of man you are looking for.

I am to town.

-Happy hunting!

Finally, after too many months

of bottling,

no more frog-eyed bubbles.

The trade route has been finalized.

The delivery negotiated.

So many obstacles ahead.

So much at stake.

Mustn't dwell on what we cannot control.

Though, it seems a shame not to dress you.

Something must announce you.

Something subtle, but smart.

Confident.

There.

That will keep you safe across the seas.

Go well, my loves, go well.

-All dressed up and ready to travel.

We will take a few days to circumvent the front lines

and arrive in Amsterdam.

I'll be gone a while.

If I don't come back, don't alert the authorities.

-For you, for the journey.

-Thank you.

-Let's go!

And now the wait.

For the first time in as long as I can remember,

I am permitting myself excitement.

Pure, unbridled excitement.

Good morning, Phillipe.

I hope you are well.

-Barbe, I came to view the product

but it is nowhere to be found.

-Why do you need to see it?

-Where is it?

We moved the sparkling.

-Come with me.

Are you selling abroad?

Barbe, whether you tell me or not,

if you break this embargo and you are found out,

I will be implicated.

Everything must be reported to Droite and to myself.

We are partners.

-When I have proceeds, I will send them to you.

-You understand our arrangement can be terminated.

You have one last chance.

One.

There is a comet

burning a passage through the sky,

day and night.

The world watches as one.

Whispers around Champagne say it is portent of change.

A good omen perhaps, for the coming harvest.

Madame! Come quick!

First press! - I'm coming!

It's perfect!

Whoa.

-Where is Louis?

-Louis stayed to sell the glass.

I'm sorry, Madame.

We made it to Amsterdam but...

the heat and the journey...

the champagne spoiled.

We lost everything...

Sorry, Madame.

We could offer to sell some of the hectares.

The Moëts inquiring again?

-They made it clear there is a standing offer.

For all of it, or some of the fields, if...

-When. When I fail.

I understand.

Perhaps in the event that I should be so foolish,

so arrogant, to send the sparkling around a blockade

and lose it all to the heat.

-To bad luck, certainly.

-To bad judgement on my part.

-I'm not sure all the responsibility

lies on your should-- -It was my decision.

-And you will be the reason we succeed in the end!

-We have no money.

I cannot pay any of you.

Do you think Louis intends to continue on with us?

You, Edouard?

We need to get to the bottling stage of this vintage.

-We cannot wait too long to tell Phillipe.

Selling off objects

to make up for the lost shipment in Amsterdam.

But I have kept Clem's room untouched.

Try again. Think differently.

Work on what's in front of us.

-This is for you...

It's not very good, is it? But I did make it myself.

It's an owl, weeping in a cathedral on the moon...

Beautiful.

You were disappointed when...

you first saw me, I know.

When your parents told you that you were to marry.

I will try to make it up to you.

Come on lads, let's go!

Get more wood. -Thank you!

If we lose these first shoots to a late frost,

we lose the harvest.

I know.

-I'll keep these fires lit till morning.

-I'll stay.

No one can fall asleep.

-Of course, Madame.

-Thank you, George.

-All right, lads, let's go!

Muller! Muller! Here!

Come on, boys!

up the hill as well, lads.

Here. Follow me.

Come on! Follow me there!

Pick these up. Pick these up now!

Why?

Time does not bend, Father.

She's slow! -Go and clean yourself up.

-It must clear! -Meet me in the study.

Come and speak to me

when you are ready to discuss things civilly.

I am afraid there is nothing to be done about François.

-Hello, Phillipe.

Thank you for coming.

-Of course.

-Edouard, would you like to... to begin?

Yes.

Phillipe, regarding the missing product,

we wanted to assure you there will be no legal issues

for the vineyard.

There will be no evidence

of the shipment having been sold anywhere.

-But how can you guarantee that? There must be records.

-It was ruined in the heat.

-It's lost?!

The entire vintage?

-Yes.

-Edouard, you may go.

-God! I am very disappointed in you.

- I understand. - You've confirmed

all my worst fears. -I understand,

but I want you to consider

not removing me until after this next bottling.

-And why would I do that?

-And if we can recoup...

-No. It is finished.

-François needed help,

and we failed to recognize it.

We failed him.

That is why he is dead.

-I could never allow myself to think...

-Please, Phillipe.

While the vineyard still bears his name.

If Louis Bohne distributes, agreed.

-The damp will get into your bones, Barbe.

You'll catch your death.

-Sit with me.

-That's very good.

-Just isn't good enough.

-You need to sleep.

-It's not right. It's not good.

This isn't right. It's not good.

This is not good!

That is too loud!

It's too loud, it's too loud!

We are not safe here!

- Clem? Clem! - This is our home!

-Inside! Go!

Go inside!

-It's loud, it's too loud.

Taste it!

Would they have their own homes suffer such harm?

Why is no one coming to help?

Barbe!

Where were you?

Hiding...

You're hiding from me...

-I was waiting for you to calm.

-I can't.

-Will Clem be safe?

If you can't calm.

-If I can't, will that keep you from loving me?

-Monsieur Louis Bohne.

-Louis Bohne, after months on a horse.

-Charles has told me

you are maintaining the vineyards yourself.

You must be the only woman I know who loves mud.

-Yes, well, we keep moving forward.

-And what criminal activities do you have in mind for us next?

-They are not so much criminal

as they are masking the extent to which we are truly solvent.

-Excellent.

-You've been gone a long while.

-Yes.

-It's good to have you back with us safe, Louis.

And I have control of the vineyard

until the next bottling,

if you decide to distribute for us.

After that...

-I know.

Phillipe told me.

After the disaster in Amsterdam,

I managed to salvage eight bottles.

I then rode on horseback to St. Petersburg.

A friend, who has exquisite taste,

and is the sort who likes

the boast of his new discoveries,

he sampled your champagne.

I gave him the bottles,

and he gave me this.

In advance of the next shipment.

You have sold, Madame.

Congratulations.

Provided the next tasting goes well, of course;

we have to match the same standard of

what we have already pre-sold.

-Of course.

For Phillipe.

And for you.

-No.

I will give this to Phillipe.

It did occur to me that I might sell the red wine

to the nobles that I know in Austria.

They hate the French, but not me personally, I hope.

-To dislike you would be against nature.

We sold the red.

Not at the price you would have sold it for,

but I needed to pay the workers for the harvest.

Louis, could you...?

Would one of your royals buy it?

It's the only possession of worth I have left.

If I had anything of my own to sell, I would.

I know, but you don't.

-No.

-We won't be solvent until after the next vintage.

-I know.

But you have sold, Barbe.

And Phillipe will soon see that.

Don't sell it quite yet.

-All right, that's enough.

-Louis.

-Is that you, Barbe-Nicole?

What do you want, Barbe?

Your instincts have always been so good.

You know what I am.

Why won't you listen to yourself now?

-I don't want to.

-Why?

-I don't want to.

-Will you ask the workers

if they would accept these in trade?

-I will, Barbe.

-What would Voltaire say?

-He would not be happy with me.

-What are you praying for?

-To... stop... loving you this much.

It... it's...

you are the only.

You are life...

for me.

And...

I...

I'm not...

I'm not.

I'm not.

No, no. For my calm, for my sleep.

-Don't hide from me, love.

-Oh. Oh... darling. Clemy...

Silly Daddy. Silly Daddy.

I've got you. I've got you.

I want Mummy!

-Oh, I've got you. I've got you. I've got you.

Darling.

-Stop.

Stop!

It's all right.

-Napoleon's new regulations on planting.

When does he find the time?

-He understands the value of peace.

-He is not interested in peace.

-I'm working.

-It's late. Everyone's asleep.

-Now get out of my office.

I shall name you

the Comet Vintage of 1811.

Monsieur Muller, Monsieur Muller.

Quick. It's time! - Gather everyone!

-Sir, I'll ready the horses.

Right! I need all the carts loaded.

All the horses! We need everyone.

Everyone to the caves!

Now!

At least another dozen bottles over there.

-You need to hide here until the soldiers have gone.

They won't find you in the caves.

Muller, go and get your family once you're finished loading,

and any of the other men.

-Sir. -No, no.

I need Muller to bring Clem.

-She'll be safer at your parents' house in Reims, Madame.

-I must go to the house to get Anne.

-Wait.

Go quickly, the Russians could be here before sunset.

God knows what will happen.

-Leave the shipment if anything happens.

-Go. Don't worry, go!

Go. Keep to the woods.

Come on, keep loading!

- It's here! - I know, I know!

- Clem! - We have to hurry.

I need Clem. Oh god!

Oh my god, oh my god!

Barbe, Barbe!

The war is over,

leaving such devastation in its wake.

And yet no damage done to the vineyards of France.

A miracle.

My dear,

now that Napoleon has been brought to his knees,

all of Russia wishes to celebrate the end of this war

by drinking the Comet.

Your champagne is all sold. I wish I had more to sell.

I've been turning the vessels each day

over the last few weeks.

And as I thought, sediment has solidified in the base,

ready to be released.

The Czar himself said he would drink none other.

We must seize the moment.

This is most definitely the future.

Our shipments will be months ahead of the competition.

-I can pay the workers now.

-Robert!

How are you?

Thank you, thank you for taking care of the vines.

-Hello. Thank you very much!

-Thank you, Matthieu!

-Madame.

-So you're an inventor now.

And you would have me return to Russia so soon.

-No, I would not.

Now that he has abdicated and there is peace,

George can go.

-Oh.

I can go and join you in the vineyards today.

-You're going to get your hands dirty?

Mm-hm.

-Mud on your shoes?

Summons!

-It's a summons for Barbe-Nicole Clicquot.

A claim has been submitted

that Madame Clicquot is running a business

in violation of the Napoleonic code of 1804

and further, that her vineyard should be placed

in the hands of an experienced executor.

We don't have much time.

We have to read the entirety of the Code.

-Was this the plan all along?

No, Madame.

It never occurred to them you would succeed.

That you would fight so very hard for every bottle.

Get out! Get out!

-No! No!

-It's too dangerous, Madame!

- Come with me! - No!

- Come with me! - Stop! Stop!

- It's over! - Get off me!

Get off!

- Where were you? - Where were you?

What are you doing?

-There are things written here

that you've never shared with me.

You're hiding.

-They are things to remind me

of--of--of-- of what we have shared,

said to each other, decided!

-You were worried about the glass.

- And I told you! - No, you didn't.

-Yes! -No, you didn't.

-Calm, François. Calm, calm.

- Calm? I am calm.

This is what you do, you trick me!

-You were the one who said

we would never hide from each other,

and now you are the one. You hide.

You hide in these moods, you rave and you disappear.

Is this what you want?

-How could this possibly be what I...

-Did you send Clem to the abbey

because you didn't want her to see me like this?

-Yeah. Yes.

I sent her to the abbey

because I didn't want her to be ashamed of you.

Or afraid of you.

Or take care of you.

And she will remain there until you are different.

-And you hid that from me?

-It was all I could do.

-Go to sleep, my love.

I love you, my darling.

I love you.

Madame, the carriage is here.

It is with great concern

for the well-being of not only the Champagne district,

but for Madame Clicquot herself,

that we bring this claim.

I regret to say it, but her champagne falls

well short of the high standards of our district.

If she continues to sell first,

our vintage will be judged as she is.

Perhaps a situation such as this

is precisely what Napoleon foresaw

when he insisted on a law

forbidding female management of companies.

Monsieur Droite, who works with Madame as estate manager,

has been observing her for many years.

She has been seen knee-deep in mud,

singing to the vines.

Could you tell me, Monsieur Droite,

why she was given the vineyard to manage?

-Well, she was in a very fragile and emotional state

when she pleaded with Phillipe Clicquot

to run the business alone.

He had just lost his son, she, her husband.

There were many substantial financial offers for the estate

but she refused them all,

and now we are in a position where,

due to constant borrowing, we may have to default the bank.

I fear that she, a woman,

is not capable of running this vineyard.

-And yet the reason we are all here

is because she is doing just that!

And you are?

-I am Edouard Werler, sir. Madame Clicquot's accountant.

Forgive my interruption,

but this is the will of François Clicquot

that states the land belongs to Barbe-Nicole Clicquot

until such a time as she wills the property

to someone of her choosing.

Yes, if she is in her right mind.

Regarding the accusation

that she is forbidden to run a business under the law,

I would cite a major point of the Napoleonic code of 1804,

which states that a woman can carry on her husband's business

after his death.

Monsieur Moët wants control of her vineyard.

He doesn't care to protect Champagne

or Madame Clicquot from herself.

Monsieur Werler,

this court will hear testimony, not opinion.

May I speak on the subject of her...

her private life.

Her deceit.

You may, but keep it clean;

there are women present.

Madame Clicquot is not what she seems.

She is in an intimate, romantic relationship

with her wine merchant.

She is a widow only in the eyes of the law,

to evade the law.

Shhh... Do you hear them?

-Of course. Always.

-I don't. Not anymore.

I think...

all I ever wanted really was to be happy.

Build a paradise here with you.

-Perhaps men were not made for paradise.

-I want to die in your arms.

Do you still want to die in mine?

-I do, but first,

I want to live,

and work, and learn.

-Do you remember when you said that I was the one

who was going to change things?

It wasn't me.

-Shh- shh. -Oh, my darling.

It was never me.

It was always you.

Would you stand, please?

Are you remaining a widow

for the sole purpose of running a business?

-I don't know.

Did you say you don't know?

-I don't know.

It's odd to listen to how others define you

as if you are somehow fixed, unchanging, one person,

instead of the many that we all are.

I love my husband still.

And I love Louis Bohne. I am not just one self.

Your husband is dead, Madame.

-My husband is not dead.

He lives in the vines.

Perhaps it is not best

to have you speak for yourself.

-Why would I not be the authority

on the subject of myself?

I am telling the truth as I know it,

even though I see that telling the truth means

I might not be readily understood... by men,

as it may not be what it is.

Familiar, expected.

But the truth is, as I listened to you,

I was glad to be a woman,

even if I lose the rights of men.

Men are so certain,

but does that mean they know the truth?

Or does it just mean they are certain of themselves?

Yes, we-- we see your point.

And yet, we need a clear answer to settle this claim.

Are you remaining a widow to evade the law?

-I am Louis Bohne, magistrate,

the wine distributor in question.

Can I offer my assistance

in obtaining an answer to your question?

You may, thank you.

-Understanding that I would run the vineyard as I see fit,

with you by my side,

given everything you know of me,

and that we've never hidden anything from one another...

Barbe-Nicole, will you marry me?

-No.

Widow Clicquot...