It's the near constant and unexpected moments like that which make Sideways a really beautiful film. Also unexpected is Alexander Payne's respect for his audience and the importance he places on the film's many details. Nothing is wasted. This tasting tour of the Santa Barbara wine country isn't just a running gag machine. It doesn't just facilitate Jack replying, regardless of whether Miles loves or hates his wine, "Tastes pretty good to me." Wine is an interwoven and accessible metaphor for both Miles' and Maya's lives. In a moving scene, when Miles explains his unearthly love of Pinot Noir, the entire theatre gradually erupts in laughter as people realized he was talking about a certain variety of grape, yes, but more expressively about himself as well. Thin-skinned, not a survivor, it can't just grow any where . . . needs a lot of love. Payne expects us to understand the mystery that Miles can't, and subtly but deliberately gives us the clues to unravel it.

If I, myself, weren't so much like that lovely, fragile Pinot Noir--more perhaps like the hardy Cabernet--I might not have liked Sideways so much. But, I think, like all the subtle blends of California wine country, there's a little Pinot in everyone.