DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT I'M DOING ALL OF THIS TO SAVE THIS WINE!
Had enough of me?
He had something to do.
And leaves you alone with a man like me?
Maybe you're the one left alone with a girl like me.
Okay.
So, let's taste some wines?
Come on.
So, which one do we start with?
- This one? - Wait. Let's first set the mood.
Janis Joplin.
Great.
- Music, alcohol, pretty French girl… - Stop messing around. Listen.
You know she hated her hometown?
She ran away as soon as she could to California to change the world.
When I listen to it…
I think of a hurricane that sweeps everything away.
Smell it.
At first, the notes sound dissonant,
like there's no unity.
It's made from three grape varieties.
It's all over the place.
But in the mouth…
It explodes.
Disorder becomes harmony.
The three grapes blend into one.
Now, close your eyes.
Close your eyes.
Take a sip.
Can you still hear the music?
Wine is like music.
It connects you to your emotions.
It repairs wounds.
"Clos Venturi."
Italian?
Corsica.
A small vineyard in the mountains.
Wonderful.
Another one.
Who's that?
Hermitage, Jean-Louis Chave, 2009.
Linden…
honeysuckle…
I'm in a hammock…
at home.
It's evening.
There's a gentle breeze.
It's rocking me to sleep…
My boyfriend is with me.
We're about to go for a drink, but not right now.
Don't talk about your boyfriend.
It ruins everything.
Your turn.
I'm on a sailboat.
Light is streaming through the curtains of the cabin.
We've just made love.
Keep going.
You're going back to France soon.
You're crying. You're lost.
I want you to stay.
No.
I will tell them to serve you dinner.
Honoka? Honoka!
Honoka! Honoka!
- Daddy! - Help me! Help me!
Help me…
Hold it tight, okay?
And this one as well.
Do you know it?
No.
Tell me, what do you see?
A little child…
on his own…
It's winter.
It's cold.
He's lost.
No, he's not lost.
He's angry.
You know nothing about me.
It's true.
You are not at all who I expected.
It's sad your family doesn't know who you really are--
They don't care.
Tamar is not your father.
She was taught to hate you by him, but it's not her fault.
Just like it's not your fault your mother died.
It's beautiful.
And I know just one wine that matches it.
Yes.
Give me the keys.
- You can go as well. - You won't need me today?
- I don't. Take the day off. - Okay. As you like.
I shouldn't have come.
Everything will be fine.
Yeah, sure.
Nothing's changed.
It still smells like shit.
I didn't come armed.
Sit, please, Davit.
The last time I saw you…
you were on a tricycle.
You've aged too.
Your hair is gray.
Let's drink.
'89. The year you were born.
The year I was born.
The year I was born and Mom died.
You want us to talk? I'm here.
Okay.
Thank you.
- We take care of it. - No.
I searched for you on that mountain
- for so long. - Huh?
We're here.
Nothing. Everything is just so different.
Is that Ketevan's?
Yes, that's the one you pissed in.
- Come, come. - Come.
Come on, Davit. Let's go.
I was too young to remember that anyway.
Yeah, but I still remember that I got a beating from my father afterwards.
Come on, come on.
Let's choose.
- How many should we take? - About 20.
We are expecting many guests.
Davit, take this.
- It's enough. Take this. - No, that's it. That's it. That's it.
- Take this. - Let me, Mom.
Let's go now.
My dears.
We have guests, so I'll say a few words.
Glory to God.
Let's drink. Cheers.
Cheers.
Tamar, you want to tell them? Why it all happened?
- Davit. - I'm not done yet.
I don't remember you saying anything
when my father locked me in the cellar for three days.
In the dark.
Locked in the cellar with no light, no food and no water. Nothing.
They took me out of there, exhausted,
and now, you say you forgive me?
You're the one who should be asking my forgiveness!
You should be on your fucking knees!
You need to start packing, because I'm selling all of this.
Everything. It's over, gone. Burn it to the ground.
That's it.
Let go of me.
You called Davit Abashidze. Leave a message. Thank you.