Camille, sweetie.
Keep your eyes open, Camille!
Camille, keep your eyes open.
Slowly lift her up.
You let her drink wine? Your own daughter!
Camille!
- Wait. Hey. - Get out of here!
Excuse me.
We have arrived.
- Thank you. Bye. - Have a good stay. Bye.
Hello.
Camille Léger.
Are you Philippe Chassangre?
You don't remember me?
You spent all your summers here until you were ten.
Yes, I know. But I have very few memories of that period.
Thank you for hosting me.
It can't be convenient for you, with all the things you have to do.
"Things." It's called harvesting.
And indeed, it's not a good time. Actually it's the worst possible moment.
I don't have time to take care of you.
Okay, so then who will?
My son, Thomas. He's a professor of enology.
Thomas? Yes, I remember. He was older.
Make up your mind.
Do you remember or not?
Anyway, I'll show you to your room.
This was your bedroom when you were little.
My bedroom in Japan was really small.
I remember this being really big and in fact, it's not.
It's funny how people's memory can...
Okay.
Thank you.
Camille, your father is waiting.
Okay, I'm coming.
- What are you guys gonna do? - It's none of your business.
Camille. Camille!
It's none of your business!
Camille?
You okay?
Thomas.
Yes!
Sorry. It must be the jet lag.
Oh, yeah, yeah. It's been a while.
- Yes. - But I think I would have recognized you.
Everything all right? My father wasn't too unpleasant?
He was
charming.
Charming?
- No. - Yeah.
Come, I'll give you a tour.
Well, these are the lands of Châteauneuf-du-Pape.
And right over there is Gigondas.
And even further out, Vinsobres.
What?
- You know, I remember you very well. - Oh, yeah?
I had to watch over you, but you were always shooing me off.
For example, you would go to the vineyards every morning.
And then you would taste a grape, make a serious face
and tell us if they were ready for harvesting.
You guessed everything correctly: guava, hazelnut, elderberry, fennel.
You couldn't get enough. You could play this game for hours.
In fact, you never stopped.
Because you could also--
Wait! Stop, please!
I know why I don't remember this period of my life.
It's because I was a pain in the ass!
I don't want to hear it. It's so embarrassing.
Don't be.
It was fascinating.
I thought you had superpowers.
And this is the fermentation cellar.
It's where the magic happens.
The first aromas emerge here.
For example, if I tell you,
raspberry, cherry, prune, tonka beans, and raw beets,
you would say, "Merlot." Of course.
People think that guessing a wine is like magic, but there's no magic in it.
It's just work. A lot of work.
The palate is a muscle.
Once it's trained, it is able to identify all the clues the wine gives it.
But you already knew that because you have a gift.
I'm afraid of disappointing you.
I'm sure you won't.
Come.
Before bottling the wine,
we store it for ten to 20 months in these oak barrels.
It depends on the vintage.
This was my mom's favorite place.
I didn't know.
That's life.
I'm really sorry about your dad.
That's life.
Well, it's time to show you the torture room.
The "torture room"? Okay.
Here we have everything you need to work on the theory
but also the practical.
In three weeks, you will have to know by heart
the grape varieties, the domaines, the vintages,
and also how to taste wine.
Okay?
What about that first test in Tokyo?
Can you describe the wine you tasted?
It was red wine.
Okay. Well, it's a start.
Anything else?
That's it.
And I'm being serious.
Look, I have to tell you.
My relationship with wine is very complicated.
Of course it's complicated, with the dad you had.
But Camille, don't put yourself under pressure.
No one's asking you to take over for him or follow in his footsteps. No one.
And what do you mean by "complicated"?
One month ago,
your dad called me to say he was going to die.
He asked for a favor.
He was like a brother to me, so I could not refuse.
He asked me to polish up your knowledge.
Polish up.
So I asked him about your level of knowledge,
and he told me that it's probably very good.
Now what am I going to do with you?
Papa...
Mr. Chassangre.
I totally understand your frustration,
but it's nowhere near as strong as mine.
I have been eating rice and green beans at every meal for 20 years.
Otherwise, I get sick.
I cannot drink a single drop of alcohol without passing out,
and it's all his fault.
He left me a message saying he believes in me.
That I am capable of doing this.
I don't even know why I believed him.
And now the question is: can you help me or not?
Mr. Tomine, you're late.
Sorry.
Let's not waste time.
As you know, we are looking for a consultant enologist
who will guide and advise us for our international cooperative company.
We have read the report with your suggestions with great interest.
We were really impressed.
Not to forget that you are highly recommended
by Alexandre Léger himself.
His passing is a great loss for the world of enology.
Yes.
My condolences.
However,
we are a little worried that you may lack the experience needed for the job.
It seems you don't have yet any clients who we could refer to.
I just started my own company, so you can be my first client if you like.
Sure.
But you should know that the members of our cooperative
would be much more comfortable with a senior consultant.
Is there a test, or should I leave just 'cause I'm not old enough?
- There is a test, yes, but-- - Then give me the test, please.
Thank you.
We'd like you to identify this wine as best as you can.
This is an Old World wine. A Bordeaux.
Majority of Merlot?
Yes, and about 15, 20% of Cabernet Sauvignon.
Le Puy. 2014.
No, 2017.
Cuvée.
Barthélemy.
So, Côtes de Franc, Château Le Puy, Cuvée Barthélemy, 2017.
That is correct.
But you did not describe the wine.
You didn't ask me to.
You called my mom. Can I ask why?
He wouldn't have needed to if you had answered my messages.
Yes, but you would have kept nagging me.
She has the right to know what you're doing.
You owe her that at least. No?
So you've decided to help me then?
Yes.
But on one condition.
Anyone want coffee?
Yes.
Are you seeing someone?
No.
- And you? - No.
I'm happy being on my own.
I didn't expect this, but I'm glad to see you again.
Me too.
It's awful what he's making her do.
Camille lacks self-confidence. This will destroy her.
No, Marianne.
I know you cannot understand him, but he loved his daughter.
You call that love?
All he thought about was himself and his wine.
You still think of him that way?
Still mad at him. It must be exhausting. But...
Alexandre is dead, Marianne.
He's dead.
This is the brain of an average patient.
And you see this red area right here?
It's the amygdala, the seat of emotions.
In this case, the patient is apprehensive about the MRI scan and is nervous,
which is quite normal.
So I asked him to eat a piece of chocolate.
There are two zones that become active.
The first one is the hippocampus, which is the memory center.
It identifies the taste, then sends the information to the amygdala,
which associates chocolate with pleasure.
And now, here is Camille's brain MRI.
I also gave her chocolate.
But I noticed two things.
The first one is that your memory records an unusually high amount of activity.
The number of synaptic connections made
when your taste function is activated is exceptional.
I've never seen anything like this.
It's fantastic!
And now, what is less fantastic,
is this.
Do you see this red and purple area?
It's disgust mixed with fear.
You recognized the chocolate and sent the information to the amygdala,
but it was violently rejected.
I tried again with several other strong-flavored foods,
and the results were exactly the same.
I even gave you a slightly alcoholic solution,
and then...
I'm sorry, but what does this all mean exactly?
More specifically, it means your brain reacts this way
because you suffered a trauma when you were younger.
A trauma linked to taste.
And most likely to alcohol.
Does this-- Does this all make sense?
Does this make sense?
Camille's father...
Let's say, Camille was hospitalized.
I see.
I will continue my research.
But what I can tell you already, Camille,
is that even if your condition is psychosomatic,
it can really put your health at risk.
Unfortunately, as long as the trauma hasn't been treated,
I recommend that you stop your wine training.
I'm sorry.
Clement, also the inside.
We have to leave early tomorrow morning.
I wanted to say goodbye.
Okay. Goodbye!
What's your problem?
It sucks. All those millions slipping through your fingers.
You ungrateful little brat.
With all due respect, fuck you.
What do you know about me?
I know enough.
Alexandre was my friend!
Yeah, sure.
He didn't know me, okay? And he didn't give a shit about me.
No, your father adored you.
He was devastated when you two left!
I didn't hear from him in 20 years, but he was devastated, yeah!
Yes, he tried to reach you several times, but Marianne stopped him!
When I was a little girl, okay. But after?
He could have found my phone number, my email.
I wrote a book. He could have found a way.
And you? You sent him an email ten years ago.
Your father made me read it!
What email?
Here.
"From Camille Léger to Alexandre Léger. September 6th, 2010, Paris.
It took me a while to write to you.
My mind is clear, and my heart is in the right place,
and I am not speaking from anger or resentment.
I'm fine, I will be turning 18 soon."
I didn't write this.
It's not even my email address. I don't understand.
"I've spent over half my life without you,
and I realize I don't miss you.
One day you'll probably try to get in touch with me.
You'll say you want to make up for all that lost time and that it's not too late.
But I'll tell you this:
Lost time can never be made up.
I never want to hear from you again.
I won't take any of your phone calls or answer any of your letters.
As far as I'm concerned, I no longer have a father. Camille."
I read the email you sent Alexandre.
To my father. The email you sent him just before my 18th birthday.
- Camille. - Mom.
You're leaving here tomorrow.
Alone. Without me.
How are you feeling?
Somewhere between betrayed and devastated.
I understand.
I'm not gonna stop.
No way.
If you don't want to go on, I'll understand.
I'll be in deep shit, but I'll understand.
Camille, of course I'm gonna help you.
But if you can't taste alcohol, how are we gonna make it work?
I have been thinking about it all night. I got a plan B.
I read that humans have almost 400 sensors in the nose,
capable of detecting more than 100,000 different smells.
100,000!
We underestimate our sense of smell,
but once we smell something, we never forget the odor.
So if I can't go through the door, I will go through the window.
THE NOSE OF WINE
In this box, there are 54 aromas.
You can find all of them in wine.
The fruity aroma, the floral, the herbal, the toasted note, and even animal notes.
Animal notes?
Like, wet dog?
No, more like wild game, leather, or musk.
Okay.
Ready?
Is that necessary?
To go through the window, you have to use the blindfold.
Don't worry, it doesn't hurt.
Ready?
Pear?
No.
Apple.
No.
- Is it even a fruit? - Still no.
- Oh, fuck. - Camille.
It's already stored in your memory.
All you need is to make a connection.
Stored.
I want you to organize things.
In here.
First, you ask yourself,
"Is it a fruit? A flower? A plant?
A spice? Woody? Toasted? Is it a mineral?"
I want you to create categories, then subcategories,
and even sub-subcategories if necessary.
Once you've stored everything away tidily, it will be easy to find it again.
Do you understand?
Yes, Daddy.
Camille? You okay?
I want to smell it again.
Ask yourself the right questions.
Is it sweet?
Salty?
Bitter?
Umami?
Sour?
Or a combination?
It's sweet,
but at the same time,
I don't like it.
It's dry and rough. It's harsh.
It's bitter.
That's it. It's bitter.
It's bittersweet. There is sugar.
It's not a fruit but a plant.
Licorice.
- Licorice? - That's it.
Again.
Quince?
Yep.
Almond?
Jasmine?
- Yes. - Black currant.
Saffron.
Honey.
Hazelnut. Toasted.
Leather. Cut hay.
Toasted bread.
Dark chocolate.
Pine.
And the last one.
Green pepper?
Bravo.
I did it!
It's our wedding anniversary in a month.
I would like to take you to a good restaurant. Just us.
I wanted it to be a surprise for you.
But your schedule is always full.
Also, you don't like being surprised.
I'll add it to my schedule.
See you this evening.
Your father wishes to see you.
How do you think this makes us look?
If Issei goes chasing the fortune of a foreigner,
what will happen...
THE BIGGEST SUCCESSION BATTLE OF THE CENTURY
...to our reputation?
There's no heir after you, apart from Issei.
I'll talk to him.
No.
I will do it.
Well! Now the serious stuff begins.
This contains the equivalent of a glass of wine.
It's like a bottle sample.
The taste and olfactory characteristics are the same, of course.
And that'll be fantastic for us.
You're going to be able to smell all kinds of wines.
And it's all thanks to her. Camille, this is Juliette.
Nice to meet you.
On her trip to China, she took the opportunity to go to SIAL in Shanghai.
The wine producers got together and gave you-- How many?
400 samples.
Thomas made me a list of everything he needed.
I got everything you asked for.
I was supposed to go with Juliette,
but we will find more opportunities to go there.
Of course.
Juliette is our sales director. She exports our wine worldwide.
She speaks seven languages including Mandarin and Cantonese. So it's--
Seven languages. It's practical.
He's exaggerating.
I speak six languages pretty well.
And then Russian, I can get by.
So, is it going well?
Thomas says you have an incredible nose.
Well, you can't really say.
He's exaggerating, huh? It's like Russian for you, I can get by.
No, no, no. She has got a real talent.
Her nose is incredible. Really.
I can't wait to see that.
Can I?
Cool!
We'll start with the simplest.
A varietal wine.
Thank you.
First, you evaluate the wine by sight.
You put it in front of a white surface, like this napkin.
You look at the color, which will give you an idea of its age.
If you have shades ranging from mauve to purple, that means the wine is young.
If it's garnet or cherry with a slightly carroty sheen,
the wine is at its peak.
When it's pumpkin or cocoa colored, the wine is old. Maybe too old.
So?
Purple or cherry red.
Purple?
So, a young wine?
Now ask yourself about the intensity of the color.
If it's faint, that points to a light, delicate wine
from a cool climate with a short maceration.
But if the color is very intense, it's a full-bodied wine
grown under the sun or aged for a long time.
Not a very intense color.
A light wine?
If I may step in.
The advantage with a varietal wine
is that it represents the virtually pure expression of the terroir.
With a single variety of grape,
smelling the specific characteristics of the vintage is more straightforward.
It's easier to pinpoint its geographic location. It's more up-front.
Yep. Exactly. Thank you, Juliette.
Yes, thank you, Juliette.
And now, the nose.
We'll do this in three stages.
One, the first nose.
You capture the aromas of the wine at rest.
Two, you let it breathe.
You wake it up so it can release its aromas.
Three, you smell it again.
And it hits you.
Aromas jump out at you that you never suspected were there.
Go ahead.
Camille!
You okay?
You didn't move for almost a minute with your eyes closed and didn't respond.
You okay?
Yep.
Did you see something?
Nothing, absolutely nothing.
Sorry.
Okay, that's enough for today.
So?
I'll never make it.
Nothing comes through. I don't know if it's the alcohol vapors
- or what, but... - The alcohol vapors?
A very long time ago, the Rhône ran through here.
It was so powerful that it swept chunks of rock down from the Alps
and displaced them on the plain.
Then the rocks were polished by the current, and this is the result.
Here. Touch it underneath.
- It's hot. - Of course.
The rocks soak up the heat of the sun all day
and redistribute it at the foot of the vines at night.
It's thanks to these rounded pebbles that our wine is what it is.
Wine makes you sick because of your childhood experience.
But you need to see behind the alcohol, Camille.
Wine, it's--
it's the earth, it's the sky, it's the humans.
Wine is nature, Camille.
Nature.
Are you coming?
- To do what? - Going for a spin.
You can drop that.
Where to?
You'll see.
Seriously?
Alexandre wanted to know your limits.
You started to have headaches, nosebleeds, memory loss.
Besides, at the time, things were not good between your parents.
Marianne insisted that he stop what he was doing with you,
but your father had his revenge to take against the world.
Did you know about this?
That he made me drink?
No, no, no, no. Nobody knew.
Except you and him. He never mentioned anything to me.
All I know is that your dad would have never hurt you.
Never.
I can't remember anything.
This wine is from those vineyards.
This is the soil that saw it grow.
Smell.
Did you find the dominant aroma?
No?
It's not a big deal.
It will come.
Something will click.
Now, go walk through the vines.
Breathe, taste, and enjoy.
Go, walk through the vines.
Go on.
This wine was made from the grapes you tasted last night.
Try to recognize at least one of the aromas.
The dominant aroma is peach.
Thomas, tell me what you smell.
Peach, marzipan, hazelnut,
hawthorn, mushrooms, moss.
- Fern. - Fern.
Fuck, I've got one.
The wine I tasted in Tokyo. This was in it.
Fern.
Are you sure?
MY CAT IS SICK NEED TO GO TO THE VET...
BERANGER INTERNATIONAL CALLED YOU. IT DIDN'T WORK.
A PARCEL HAS ARRIVED.
The Casablanca Valley is swept by the morning breeze from the Pacific Ocean.
I can also smell eggshell.
The subsoil out there is full of limestone.
Grandfather.
What is this?
The soil of the vineyards around the world.
A friend of mine who's traveling sent them to me.
Issei,
we've given you time to roam around,
but this shack is the reflection of your pathetic ambitions.
I want you to make a public announcement
saying that you're pulling out of that "competition."
And shut all this down.
Then we'll talk about your future.
Yes, Grandfather.
A surprise test?
It's a bit early.
Thomas told me you have made incredible progress.
I'm curious to see if you can recognize a wine terroir,
using only smell.
Want to try?
Okay.
The color is dark and intense, almost opaque.
Significant changes.
Approximately 20 years old.
The drops of wine are heavy and slow.
It's a sunny vintage.
From the south, or a very sunny year, anyway.
A warm and rich wine.
First nose.
Ripe red fruits.
Licorice.
Cacao.
Aerating.
Sorry about thinking aloud.
Second smell.
Raspberry and blackberry.
Tobacco, too.
Dead leaves and something mineral.
Clay.
Hot, heavy, powerful.
Rioja?
- No. - No?
No.
But, listen.
What you managed to do in just three weeks is a miracle.
I'm speechless.
With your sense of smell alone, you are better than 99% of the population.
But it's not enough.
A good sommelier is able to distinguish between two wines
that are separated only by a fence.
You will never get there this way.
Never.
Can I try again?
Sure.
Got it?
Burgundy?
You tell me.
Ready?
Don't swallow it, right?
Spit and rinse.
What did you see?
I felt--
It was like chalk.
And it was very cold.
Well then,
is it a Burgundy or not?
Yes, it's a lot like the Burgundy from the other day.
Which one?
The Beaune Clos des Mouches, Maison Drouhin, '95.
That's it, right?
No.
It's not a Côte de Beaune. It's a Hautes-Côtes de Beaune.
Domaine Jayer-Gilles.
Look at me when I speak.
It's a shame.
You almost had it.
But as I've told you before, "almost" is a word for losers.
Daddy,
when will I be able to drink?
For real?
One day.
But not quite yet.
Another round?
I can't believe it. I knew it! That's not possible!
Wait here. I'll be right back.
I told you not to come here when we're in a work session.
"Work session"? What is this bullshit?
What? What's the problem?
- She is only eight, Alexandre. - So?
It gives her headaches and nosebleeds.
How do you know it's connected?
Of course it's connected!
It wasn't his fault.
All these years, it was all me.
Only me.
No.
Damn, it's so good!