Original subtitles

I think one has more fun being a

wine lover in England than in any other

country, and that's because London's where nearly all

the great wine auctions take place.

There's one almost every week of the year,

and for decades I have haunted these auctions

and the tastings that go before them.

As a result, the old cellar below our

house contains at this moment over 5,000

bottles of wine.

Some of it is superb.

Most of it's pretty good.

We drink a bottle or two every night.

It doesn't seem to do us much damage.

Here's a wine storey I wrote when I

first became fascinated by the subject.

Of course, the first thing one must do

is smell.

Smell?

I mean, of course, smell in the active

sense.

To smell.

Only after one has smelt, so to speak,

does one taste.

All right, then let's put you to the

test again, and let me assure everyone at

home that Richard Pratt has no idea what

wines we've chosen for him.

All right, then.

Richard Pratt, where does this wine come from?

Oh, this is a very good humour fellow.

A benevolent, cheerful little chap.

Oh dear, a slightly obscene little bit naughty.

Pompous idiot.

German, of course.

Not far from Bad Kreuznach, that would account

for the naughtiness.

1959, I think.

Yes, Neues Schlossberkelheimer Kupfergruber Spätlaser, 1959.

How's that?

Absolutely right.

Four out of four.

Yes.

Don't switch it off.

Oh, well.

Just turn down the sound.

Of course, the word Kupfer.

I want to know when it finishes, because

he said he's coming straight on after the

programme.

I don't know why we go to so

much trouble when we're going to be bored

by all that wine talk.

Your father likes him.

I can't bear the way he stares at

me.

He looks at me as though I were

one of his favourite Clarets.

He's meant to be very good on Clarets.

Who else did you say was coming?

The Bly's, Peter and Joanna.

They're Americans.

You'll like them.

He's a writer.

Oh, what's he write?

I've no idea, but he must do very

well.

He's got your father as a stockbroker, and

she always looks tanned.

Would you taste this, please, Mrs. Scofield?

What is it, Mrs. Adams?

It's the horseradish that I'm making, but I'm

afraid it may be a little too strong.

You taste it, dear.

It is a little too strong.

And don't forget, Mrs. Adams, dear, the beef's

to go on the minute he arrives.

Mr. Pratt likes it very rare.

You'll get it rare, all right.

Louise, ask your father about the wines.

I want to know what glass he's to

put out.

Where is he?

In his study, green filing cabinet.

Dad?

Please, no draught.

Sorry.

Mummy wants to know what glass he's to

put out.

Hock, Claret, Champagne.

Right.

And go quietly.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

Oh, dear.

What?

It's over.

Thank you, Mr. Pratt.

Thank you very much, Mr. Pratt.

An amazing display.

Really first class.

Not at all.

You must excuse me for my rush.

Surely.

Don't go without these, though.

Oh, thank you.

I can't read a thing without them.

A very naughty fellow, indeed.

Peter, I must say, he does sound absolutely

fascinating.

Oh, yes, he is absolutely fascinating.

He has the most amazing sense of taste

of any man I've ever met.

You always have a bet each time he

comes to dinner?

I'm afraid so.

It's getting rather expensive.

Oh, why?

Well, let me explain.

We only bet on a Claret.

Oh, Mike, isn't that what we call Cabernet?

Well done, Joanna.

Absolutely right.

Cabernet is the name of the vine.

Cabernet sauvignon.

The vine of the great Claret, Sir Bordeaux.

Honey, you never fail to surprise me.

Go on, Mike.

As I was saying, we only bet on

a Claret.

I serve a wine, then challenge him to

name the breed and the vintage, and he

gives me a case of the wine in

question if he can.

A case?

But he always can.

Yes, that's true.

I've never beaten him.

But tonight, I really believe I have a

wine that will absolutely baffle him.

Well, I'll drink to that.

He doesn't sound like the kind of guy

who's easily baffled, does he?

He's not.

And it's not only wines he knows about.

He's a gourmet, too.

Oh, yeah, I read about that somewhere.

He's the president of a society called the

Epicures, isn't he?

They get together once a month and stuff

themselves on sumptuous dishes of rare wines.

Yes, I remember.

And that will be him.

Louise, would you?

I'm afraid I must ask you not to

smoke.

Pat's most fastidious about that sort of thing.

You don't want his taste buds damaged.

No, certainly not.

Good evening.

Louise.

Aren't you coming in?

I'll lead the way.

One moment.

This couldn't be more opportune.

I did so want to work with you

in private.

I have a little gift for you.

A gift?

How kind.

Do open it.

I want to know if you like it.

It's my latest, and I've inscribed it to

you.

Do look.

I mean it.

To Louise from her admirer.

Heartfelt words.

Thank you.

I think we'd better go in.

They'll be wondering what's happened to us.

Please, stand between me and somebody.

Cyril, dear, lovely as ever.

Hello, Mike.

Let me introduce the blokes.

Joanna and Peter.

Richard Pratt.

Forgive me for being late.

I've come straight from the television studio.

We saw you.

Very impressive.

Not at all.

They gave me some extremely well-known wines

to taste.

These television people are all idiots, you know.

I only do it because they do so

insist on my appearing.

To think I couldn't name a Charbonnier.

I trust, Mike, you will have something a

little more challenging for me this evening?

Tonight, Richard, I am going to win.

Oh, good for you.

You bet, Mr. Pratt.

And you, sir, what do you do?

I write.

How interesting.

Under your own name?

Yes.

I myself have just published a new book.

As a matter of fact, I've presented a

copy to Louise.

How charming of you, Richard.

What's it called?

Great Postwar Vintages.

I say, riveting.

Riveting.

I hope you'll all buy it.

Well, Mike, are you ready for me?

I am.

You mean we do the wine before the

dinner?

How do you wine taste with soda?

Oh, perhaps I ought to explain.

You see, Richard never has an aperitif.

Good heavens, no.

But what I always do is retire briefly

before dinner is served and gargle with soda

water.

You don't mean like gargle with soda?

Soda water sponges out the palate, scours out

all the unwanted tastes.

In that way, I am ready to face

the challenge of my host.

Excuse me.

Isn't he extraordinary?

Oh, yeah, he's extraordinary.

The great thing about Moselle is the perfect

wine to serve before a claret.

A lot of people serve a rind wine,

but that's because they don't know any better.

It's barbaric to serve a rind wine before

a claret.

But a Moselle, ah, a Moselle is exactly

right.

Charming little wine.

Don't you think so, Richard?

Oh, dear, have I kept you all waiting?

I am sorry.

Louise is such an interesting companion.

Oh, delicious.

I congratulate your Sybil.

Absolutely perfect.

Fried in butter, very crisp, a dash of

lemon.

Very excellent.

So, ah, Moselle.

Molina Zulano, 1971, I believe.

Exactly right.

So much better to serve a Moselle rather

than a rind before the claret.

Precisely what I said.

Now, this is a very courteous personage.

Slightly feminine, rich, rather like your daughters of

the American Revolution.

Not quite as well off as they used

to be.

Beautifully mannered lady.

Now for the claret.

Thank you, Mrs. Adams, dear.

I must go and fetch the claret.

Go and fetch it?

Where is it?

In my study with the cork out, breathing.

But why is it in your study?

Well, being chambrayed, of course.

Pardon?

Acquiring room temperature.

Yes, but why in your study?

Well, since Richard and I began these little

contests, we've had to see the conditions as

near perfect as possible.

So together, we explored the house to find

the best spot for the wine to breathe.

And we hit upon the top of the

green filing cabinet in my study.

Draft free, even temperature.

Do excuse me.

Top of the green filing cabinet?

There's nowhere else in the whole house.

No, that is the perfect place.

Oh, you do take these contests seriously.

Indeed I do.

And tonight I'm taking it especially seriously.

Why?

I may want to raise the stakes.

To what?

You'll never name this wine, Richard.

You'll never get it, not in a hundred

years.

It's a claret.

Of course.

I assume then it's one of the smaller

vineyards.

Maybe it is, and then again, maybe it

isn't.

But it's a good year.

One of the great years.

Yes, that I can guarantee.

Then that shouldn't be too difficult.

And look, Richard, I won't force you to

bet on this one.

And why not?

Because it's a very difficult wine.

But I was just saying to the others

while you were out of the room that

tonight I felt like increasing the bet.

No, that would be silly, but if you

want to bet, we'll have the usual, a

case of the wine itself.

You don't think I can name it, do

you?

As a matter of fact, and with all

due respect, I don't.

Oh, I like this.

I like this more and more.

Now, come on, Michael, let's increase the bet.

No, a case is plenty.

Would you like to bet 50 cases?

Oh, don't be ridiculous, Richard.

Do start, everyone.

It'll get cold.

So, you don't want to increase the bet?

As far as I'm concerned, I don't give

a damn.

I'll bet you anything you like.

Anything I like?

Shall we say 10,000 pounds?

That better not be my 20,000 bucks

you're laying on.

Well, certainly, if that's what you want.

So, you would bet anything I like?

Oh, that's what I said.

Mike, Mike, stop this nonsense and allow us

to eat our food.

Oh, Sybil, I'm sorry you should think this

is nonsense.

We're just making a little bet.

Oh, I do love a good bet.

Now, let's see.

What shall we bet for tonight?

You'll never guess this one, Richard.

I don't give a damn what the stakes

are.

You're on.

I want you to bet the hand of

your daughter in marriage.

Hey, that's not funny.

Actually, Daddy, that's not funny at all.

No, dear, they're only joking.

I'm not joking.

It's ridiculous.

But you said I could bet anything I

liked.

I meant money.

You didn't say money.

Well, that's what I meant.

It's a pity you didn't say, but of

course, if you wanted to go back on

your word...

That's not a question of going back on

my word, old man.

It's a no bet, and I'll tell you

why.

You can't match the stake.

You don't have a daughter of your own

to put up against mine if you lose.

And even if you had, I wouldn't want

to marry her.

I'm pleased to hear that, dear.

Yes, I thought you might be.

Very well, then.

I'll bet you anything you like.

My house, for example.

How about my house?

Which one?

The country one.

Why not the town one as well?

Very well.

If you wish, both my houses.

Now, Daddy, don't be absurd.

It's too silly for words.

I refuse to be betted on like this.

Quite right, dear.

Stop it at once, Mike.

Do eat your food.

You know, Louise, we ought to think about

this.

Stop it, Daddy.

I'm not listening.

Louise, just...

I've never heard of anything so ridiculous in

all my life.

Just wait a moment and hear what I

have to say.

I don't want to hear it.

He's willing to bet two houses, and the

point is this, he can't possibly win.

He seems to think he can.

Now, listen to me, because I know what

I'm talking about.

The expert, when tasting a client, as long

as it's not one of the famous great

wines like Lafitte Latour, can only get a

certain way towards naming the vineyard.

He can, of course, tell you which Bordeaux

district the wine comes from, whether it's from

Saint-Emilion, Pomerol, Grave, or Médoc, but then

each district has several communes, little counties, and

each county has many, many small vineyards.

It's impossible for a man to differentiate between

them just by taste and smell alone.

I don't mind telling you that the one

I have here is a wine from a

small vineyard surrounded by many other small vineyards,

and he'll never get it.

It's impossible.

Are you sure?

Of course I'm sure.

Just think about it.

You'll be rich.

Two houses.

You can sell them.

You'll be independent for the rest of your

life.

Mike, stop it.

Now.

Sybil, don't interfere.

I'm the girl's father.

Louise, I wouldn't let you in for something

you didn't want.

Take the bed.

I guarantee you can't lose.

I don't like it.

You're being silly.

Come on, Joanna, what do you say?

Peter, should she or shouldn't she?

Could you just leave us out of this,

please?

Yeah, I'll drink to that.

Come on, girl, take it.

I'm making you a fortune.

We can't lose.

Daddy's supposing I do lose.

I'm your father, girl.

I keep telling you you cannot lose.

I guarantee it.

All right, then, as long as you're sure.

That's my girl.

Good.

Fine.

It's a bet.

Gentle and

gracious.

Almost feminine in the aftertaste.

Now we can begin...

to eliminate.

I must move cautiously.

There is much to be done.

Much at stake.

First, then...

from which district in Bordeaux does this wine

come?

That's not too difficult.

It's far too light to be either Saint

Emilion or Grave.

It's obviously a Medoc.

There's no doubt about that.

Now, from which commune in Medoc does it

come?

It's a very gentle wine.

Demure and bashful in the first taste, emerging

shyly but quite graciously in the second.

A little arch, perhaps.

Something of a tease, taunting with just a

trace of tannin.

Then in the aftertaste, consoling and feminine, a

certain generosity that one associates only with the

wines of the commune of Saint-Julien.

Unmistakably, this is Saint-Julien.

I'm sorry, my dear, but I simply cannot

have smoking at the table!

Now, let me see.

Where were we?

This wine is from Bordeaux, from the commune

of Saint-Julien, from the district of Medoc.

So far, so good.

Now we come to the more difficult part.

The name of the vineyard itself.

I'm going to try to establish the growth.

If I can do that, it will be

half the battle.

Now, let me see.

This wine is obviously not from a first

growth vineyard, or even a second.

It is not a great wine.

The quality, the radiance, the je ne sais

quoi, the power is lacking.

Third growth, perhaps.

I must be careful, I must be very

careful here.

Yes.

I'm right.

I'm sure of it.

It's a fourth growth.

Good, that's better.

Now we're closing in.

What are the fourth-growth vineyards in the

commune of Saint-Julien?

There it is again.

Tannin in the middle, taste a quick astringent

squeeze upon the tongue.

Yes, now I have it.

This wine comes from one of the small

vineyards around Bechevelle.

I remember it.

I know the district well.

The river, the small harbour with the...

The wine ships can't get in anymore because

they're all silted up.

Yes, could this be a Bechevelle itself?

No, I don't think so, not quite.

But somewhere very close.

Chateau-Talbot.

Chateau-Talbot.

Now, could this be a Talbot?

I believe it could.

But I'm not happy.

I'm wrong, it's not a Talbot.

I think this is a 1966, so it

couldn't be a Talbot.

Let me think.

It's not a Bechevelle.

And it's not a Talbot.

But it's so close to both of them,

so close that the vineyard must be almost

in between.

Somewhere to the south.

East.

Now, which could that be?

Yes.

I think I have it.

I think.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

Yes.

This is a Chateau-Branert-du-Crou.

And the year is 1966.

Is that your final answer?

Oh, yes, it is.

Chateau-Branert-du-Crou, 1966.

It's a pretty little vineyard.

A lovely old chateau, I know it quite

well.

I can't think why I didn't recognise it

at once.

Oh, come on, Daddy, let's have a peek.

I want my two houses.

Just a minute, wait.

Just a minute.

Michael, what's the matter?

Keep out of this, will you, please?

He's guessed right, hasn't he?

Well, has he?

Now, don't worry.

There's nothing to worry about.

Richard, I think you and I had better

slip off and have a little chat.

Oh, but I don't want a little chat.

All I want is to see the label

on that bottle.

Now, come along, Michael.

What are you waiting for?

I believe these are yours, sir.

Perhaps they are.

I don't know.

Oh, yes, they're yours, all right, sir.

You left them in Mr Schofield's study, on

top of the green filing cabinet, sir, when

you happened to go in there by yourself

before dinner.

You were carrying a soda cypher, sir.

I saw you.

Michael, keep coming.

Michael.

Michael!