A Good Year Page #4

to pop into town.

Oh, no problem-

I booked a youth hostel,

just in case the old man

- was schizo, you know?

- Oh, right.

Oh, you mind dropping me off?

I really got to get

out of these clothes.

Why don't you just get

out of your clothes here?

Got plenty of space, lots of room.

You can clean up, take a shower.

- I'll be back in a jiff.

- You sure?

Absolutely, absolutely.

Madame Duflot?

Voila.

In the French law, there is no difference between

legitimate and illegitimate

children when it comes

to their right to inherit.

That's bloody ridiculous.

She never even met Henry.

She could very well be an impostor.

That is precisely why

she would be required

to produce some form

of documentation.

Photo or even

correspondence- a love letter.

Yes, yes, yes, but what if I just...

sell the property

before she even makes her claim?

No; legally, she could

invalidate the sale

even after the transfer of title.

Bugger.

My advice, Mr. Skinner,

is to treat her

with the utmost respect.

Goes without saying.

And hope she'll be on her way.

...bugger off.

Don't let this... end in court.

Merci.

Joan of Arc?

Oh, Jacques Cousteau.

You tried to drown me.

And you tried to run me

over with your little car.

What are you talking about,

I tried to run you over?

What sort of bollocks is that?

Down the road

from La Siroque,

you were driving your

midget car on your phone.

Bonjour. Bonjour.

And I believe

had your head stuck

very far up your ass.

Look at the damage

you have caused me!

You tried to kill me,

I tried to kill you.

My God.

She's fantastic.

Hey, Max.

Look at the view.

It's like Czanne.

Oh, Tati. Psst.

Francis...

in, uh, in town today,

I was, um,

I was passing by this restaurant...

Her name is Fanny Chenal.

Right.

Many times, I've seen

this same look on your uncle's face.

But you deserve credit.

Why is that?

You are now the town hero

for making her show

her derriere.

She, um...

She grew up around here, didn't she?

Who?

Fanny Chenal.

I believe, yes.

She, um...

She otherwise spoken for?

She was once.

A football player- for Lyon.

He was sh*t,

just like his left foot.

He treated her very badly, you know.

Since then, it's rumored

that she will let no man

near her heart.

So she's alone, then.

Who?

Fanny Chenal.

Max,

recall what Proust said:

"Leave pretty women

to men without imagination."

Duflot, I'm a banker.

I have no imagination.

Stop.

Fred Perry.

Henri Lacoste.

Love-15.

Yes!

No, no, out.

Cannot be serious!

That was in by a mile!

Ball. Ball!

Ah, good.

- Yeah! Hey!

Oh... oh, bollocks!

My point.

Match point.

Game.

Hmm.

Eh, Tati.

Voila.

Oh, Maxie.

Oh, look, Ludivine, um,

she's my cousin.

Well, she might be...

could end up turning out

to be, um, a relative, uh,

from a cousinly perspect...

Uh-huh.

This is perhaps

a little over the top.

No.

Half the aristocrats in France

have liaison with their cousins.

Gosh, that explains a lot.

- Ooh.

Oh, won't do.

Anything but, uh...

La Siroque.

Vin de merdre.

No label.

That looks promising.

HENRY:
Careful on those steps.

What do you see up there?

Fervens.

Are you speaking in tongues, boy?

"Fervere"- it's a Latin term.

It means "to boil."

The native yeasts in your cellar

are converting the sugar

inside the grapes to alcohol.

The release of

carbon dioxide gas

is what causes the bubbling of it.

I must be suffering from dementia.

I don't recall ever

having told you that.

You didn't.

Monsieur Duflot explained it to me.

Well done.

Proves the adage

that wisdom can be found

in the most unlikely places.

To watch Duflot on bended knee

doing something as simple

as weeding his soil,

he brings a magnificent poetry

in his devotion

to each and every grape.

Perhaps it'd inspire you

to find devotion in what you do

for a living one day.

I want to be a professional

poker player when I'm older.

Or a comedian.

Maximillian,

ask me what is

the most important thing in comedy.

What is the most

important thing

- in comedy?

- Timing.

Timing.

Have you tasted Dad's wine?

Oh, yes, indeed.

Bloody awful, isn't it?

But I do recommend it

for getting the paint out from

underneath your fingernails.

So you know.

Well, I'm more of a cognac drinker.

I'm too impatient

to be a wine lover.

If I'm gonna get drunk,

I don't want

to spend all night doing it.

Try that.

It's better.

It's extraordinary.

Like a Bordeaux,

only velvet rather than wool.

Well, well,

guess who knows a thing

or two about wine.

Back in Napa,

we're known to gargle

and spit on occasion.

That sounds like fun.

Is, uh, is this made here

on the estate?

"Coin Perdu."

Doubt it.

Different bottles.

Same corks.

Un petit mystery, n'est-ce pas?

Well, Henry always was

a little bit of a mystery.

How so?

He loved England,

but he lived in France.

And he loved women,

but never the same one

for more than

a certain period of time.

He never got married.

And he loved adventure.

But every single one of

my memories takes place

within about 100 steps

of this very spot.

Are they good memories?

No.

They're grand.

I'm going to go upstairs,

finish my book.

Death in Venice.

That's my book.

Don't tell me the ending.

Well, actually, I never

got around to finishing it.

Hello, old mate, how are you?

Just a quick question.

Yeah, hang on. Shirley.

Yes?

You'd know this.

In France,

is it actually illegal

to shag your own cousin?

Only if she's ugly.

Right.

Bollocks.

Lance Armstrong!

I know, I'm so sorry.

I'm supposed to be here

for a 7:
30 reservation!

Oh, come on.

I know. I know.

You said we'd be seated right away.

I know. Okay, you have a drink.

We'll offer you a drink,

and you'll have your table in

less than 20 minutes, okay?

All righty. Okay.

All right, what I want is-

get ready, write it down:

Double mai tai.

Caroline?

Bonsoir.

Monsieur...

Well, I hope your

food's wonderful

because your service

is obviously lousy.

Please, Monsieur, I'm too busy

to ignore you.

- Where are all your waiters, love?

- Look,

- my hands are full without fun

and games with you. Comprends?

- Mm-hmm.

- My hands are full without fun

and games with you. Comprends?

- Mm-hmm.

McDonald's is in Avignon,

fish and chips in Marseille.

Table six?

Allez, allez!

- What are you doing?

- Don't worry, love.

Done this before.

Where?

Worked my way through university

at London's finest restaurants.

Monsieur!

- Mais qu'est-ce qui se passe?

- Alors?

Venez, monsieur!

Okay, okay.

You can serve.

But remember, if there

are any complaints,

in France,

the customer is always wrong.

Table six.

Table six.

Bonsoir...

Table?

Uh... 16.

Champagne?

Yes, cheers. And wha-what

are we going to have here?

Garkin! Garkin! Get over here.

- I need, need help over here.

- En deux minutes, monsieur.

Where you going?

Garkin!

Oh, do you speak American?

'Cause this menu

is all in French

and we don't understand it.

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