In Search of Wine and Women

When I come across reviews of Sideways, which I still do somehow from time to time despite the fact that it’s been three years since the release date, I’m always surprised by the fact that so many reviewers mention that both protagonists are unlikable. Some go so far as to describe them as “completely unsympathetic.” I mean, I understand that Jack (Thomas Haden Church) is pretty much a tool and that Miles (Paul Giamatti) is some kind of self-confidence-less downer, but I rather like the pair of them, and I think that their faults are part of what makes them sympathetic.

The fact that the road trip Jack and Miles take to California wine country is supposed to be some kind of bachelor party for Jack, who is getting married in less than a week, does quite well at highlighting Jack’s less than desirable qualities. Namely, he wants to get laid before he gets married, and he makes various “you need to get your joint worked on” types of comments to Miles, and acts completely insensitive with respect to Miles’ plans for the trip. I can see how unappealing some of those moments are; after all, who wants to hang out with some horn-dog who makes uncomfortably chauvinistic comments in public and is trying madly to cheat on his fiancé at any cost while being a selfish prick? But I think that what’s really underneath that façade is a man uncertain about a very significant and grown-up life choice. And who wants to grow up? Who’s comfortable with “settling down?” While most of us do that eventually, and are ultimately happy with the decision, change is almost always painful, and thus we can sympathize with Jack. After all, what he really wants is merely to post-pone big change for just a little bit, and that’s understandable even if it’s not admirable. I find that when I watch Sideways, I’m actually rooting for Jack to get laid, even though he’s doing to at the potential expense of his future marriage. Through him, I can see, and experience vicariously to a certain degree, that which I did not (and never would) do during my own bachelor party.

And then there’s Miles. He’s such a downer because he’s still depressed about his divorce years after the fact, and he never wants to do anything on the trip. All he wants is to drink fine wine, eat great food, and crash at the motel. While none of those things sound particularly bad or undesirable, they do sound as though they’re missing something bachelor party-wise. So he’s depressed and boring, hardly the recipe for the protagonist of a great film or a character that audiences will love and find sympathetic. But the things that make him likable for me are his knowledge of fine wine and his appreciation for good literature. The scenes where Miles talks about how to taste wine or about particular varietals evoke high sensory pleasures, the things that really enable one to escape the rigors of the day-to-day grind, or, depending on your point of view, to appreciate this life. Knowledge of those pleasures provides a kind of transcendent perception which enables one to see that there actually is good in the world despite frequent appearances to the contrary. Miles’ depressed personality coupled with this transcendent perception highlight the very same contrast. While he might not seem like much on the surface, an examination for his qualities reveals something worthwhile. As Sarah Vowell says in “California as an Island,” one of the best essays in her magnificent collection entitled The Party Cloudy Patriot, “There’s something educational about trying to see the good in things, holding some old picture in your hands and telling another person why it’s significant and excellent, special.” I’ve always loved that admirable and positive statement and how it avoids cheesy sentimentality. Like the antique maps Vowell sells in that essay, Miles and Jack provide viewers with a chance to see beyond outward appearances, to transcend the everyday and see something “significant and excellent, special.”