Sideways Page #20

MAYA:

Well...

MILES:

I do have a copy of the manuscript

in the car. It's not fully proofed,

but if you're okay with a few typos...

MAYA:

Oh yeah. Who cares? I'm the queen of

typos.

(sipping the wine)

Wow, this is really starting to open

up. What do you think?

MILES:

My palate's kind of shot, but from

what I can tell, I'd dub it pretty

damn good.

MAYA:

Can I ask you a personal question?

MILES:

(bracing himself)

Sure.

MAYA:

Why are you so into Pinot? It's like

a thing with you.

Miles laughs at first, then smiles wistfully at the question.

He searches for the answer in his glass and begins slowly.

MILES:

I don't know. It's a hard grape to

grow. As you know. It's thin-skinned,

temperamental, ripens early. It's

not a survivor like Cabernet that

can grow anywhere and thrive even

when neglected. Pinot needs constant

care and attention and in fact can

only grow in specific little tucked-

away corners of the world. And only

the most patient and nurturing growers

can do it really, can tap into Pinot's

most fragile, delicate qualities.

Only when someone has taken the time

to truly understand its potential

can Pinot be coaxed into its fullest

expression. And when that happens,

its flavors are the most haunting

and brilliant and subtle and thrilling

and ancient on the planet.

Maya has found this answer revealing and moving.

MILES:

I mean, Cabernets can be powerful

and exalting, but they seem prosaic

to me for some reason. By comparison.

How about you?

MAYA:

What about me?

MILES:

I don't know. Why are you into wine?

MAYA:

I suppose I got really into wine

originally through my ex-husband. He

had a big, kind of show-off cellar.

But then I found out that I have a

really sharp palate, and the more I

drank, the more I liked what it made

me think about.

MILES:

Yeah? Like what?

MAYA:

Like what a fraud he was.

Miles laughs.

MAYA:

No, but I do like to think about the

life of wine, how it's a living thing.

I like to think about what was going

on the year the grapes were growing,

how the sun was shining that summer

or if it rained... what the weather

was like. I think about all those

people who tended and picked the

grapes, and if it's an old wine, how

many of them must be dead by now. I

love how wine continues to evolve,

how every time I open a bottle it's

going to taste different than if I

had opened it on any other day.

Because a bottle of wine is actually

alive -- it's constantly evolving

and gaining complexity. That is,

until it peaks -- like your '61 --

and begins its steady, inevitable

decline. And it tastes so f***ing

good.

Now it is Miles's turn to be swept away. Maya's face tells

us the moment is right, but Miles remains frozen. He needs

another sign, and Maya is bold enough to offer it: reaches

out and places one hand atop his.

MILES:

(pointing)

Bathroom over there?

MAYA:

Yeah.

Miles gets up and walks out. Maya sighs and gets and American

Spirit out of her purse.

INT. STEPHANIE'S BATHROOM - NIGHT

The bathroom's a MESS -- the shower curtain is filthy, and

the chipped and water-stained tub is filled with CHILDREN'S

BATH TOYS.

Miles is bent over the sink splashing water on his face,

trying to sober up and gather his courage. He stands, and

without drying his face, presses his palms against his cheeks.

Then he takes a deep breath and drops his hands.

MILES:

You are such a loser. Come on!

INT. THE LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Miles comes out of the bathroom and looks for Maya, but she's

not there.

Then he hears a noise from the kitchen, so he goes through

the door into --

INT. STEPHANIE'S KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

Maya is at the sink, filling a glass with water.

MAYA:

I was just getting some water. You

want some water?

Miles goes to stand by her and accepts a glass of water.

Just as she's about to fill a second glass, he stops her and

looks her in the eye, trying to recapture a moment that is

long gone.

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