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.”

How does one take down the man when one is the man?

It's no secret that I love "stickin' it to the man." But I always do it in ways that might be interpreted as, well, less than ballsy. For instance, I might stick it to the man by buying my steak from Wholey's instead of Giant Eagle. I might get a copy of Sarah Vowell's latest collection of thoughtful essays at Jay's instead of Barnes & Noble. I'll feast upon a succulent cheesburger at Tesaro's instead of T.G.I. Friday's. And these ways are all consumerism anyway; the man wants me to spend money, and that's precisely what I'm doing. I'm just not spending it exactly where "he" wants me to. Or maybe I stick it to the man by voting for the Green Party candidates in local elections. But who's kidding who? I'm just taking my vote away from the man's opposition, aren't I? But then again, Democrats are just less evil versions of Republicans, aren't they? If Republicans are 90% evil, then Democrats are something like 70% evil. Big business is big business, right? But perhaps I might look to The Thomas Crown Affair for something interesting about sticking it to the man.

Thomas Crown, who for all intents and purposes is the man, lives exceptionally well. He can eat at whatever spendy restaurants he wants to whenever he feels like it, can travel anywhere for the weekend, and can play philanthropist. Being ridiculously wealthy obviously provides a certain amount of freedom from the day-to-day concerns that the rest of us face. Simply by virtue of living well, is Thomas Crown "sticking it to the man," or is he merely perpetuating the status quo by living as the establishment dictates that the rich should live? He would seem to spend a lot of time at work, dealing as he does in the hyper-intense world of finance, and so perhaps the man has him in that way just as he has the rest of us. Crown has ridiculous sums of money, but can only enjoy them on the weekends and certain free evenings. The man has him. If I had a tenth of Crown's net wealth, I'd already be retired. But not him; something about the competition involved in finance pulled him in, and the man has him. Until, of course, he decides to leave.

At the end of the film, when it becomes known that Crown is an art theif, he leaves the country never to return. We are to understand that he takes an immense sum of money with him. Now here's the dilemma: does he, by escaping from the day-to-day snares of "the man's" system, stick it to the man? Or has he simply acted as "the man" and fleeced the rest of us by depriving the public forever of the millions he would have payed in taxes had he stayed legally in the United States?

At the risk of revealing an embarassing individualistic aspect of myself, I must admire the guy. He loves and understands good art and fine wine. And he has the means to enjoy both to the fullest because he has been able to manipulate the system to his advantage. Should all of us who possess the ability to do that act in the same way? Or should we, as so many of us do, teach at universities for poor wages, work for non-profits, etc., living relatively pauper-like lives in comparison to those of similar intellect who chose to persue the field of capitalism? Or is there some middle route? This, of course, is a question as old as organized human society. It reminds me of the Matthew 19:24, one of those Bible verses firmly entrenched in my mind as a result of attending Sunday school at a wealthy, suburban church: "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God." Taken in the context of The Thomas Crown Affair and this blog about it, Matthew would seem to imply that Thomas Crown is himself "the man" because he remains rich, and presumably gives none of this wealth toward the general well-being of the world once he leaves the country. At least while he lived in New York, he gave substantially to a great museum. As much as Crown's escape appeals to me, I don't think I could stand for doing it myself from a moral standpoint. I'd rather just retire and be a philanthropist. Imagine how rewarding it would be to travel all over the world giving money to worthwhile causes for a career. Hell, if I had that much money, I could give half of it to the Green party, and they'd be able to compete for press attention in the next presidential election. Of course, that would probably bring another Republican president since everyone with even a quarter of a brain and a tenth of a heart already would never vote Republican. Oh well. I guess all hope has been lost and if I become ridiculously rich, I should just take my money and get out while I can.