The Art of Savoring Life: Why 'Burgundy' Is More Than a Wine Documentary
There’s something about documentaries that immerse you in a world you’d never otherwise glimpse. Burgundy, the latest film from the minds behind The Truffle Hunters, does exactly that—but with a twist. Personally, I think what makes this particularly fascinating is how it transcends its subject matter. Yes, it’s about wine, but it’s also about legacy, desire, and the weight of tradition. If you take a step back and think about it, this isn’t just a film about winemaking; it’s a meditation on what it means to live a life rooted in something greater than oneself.
A World Where Pleasure Is a Discipline
One thing that immediately stands out is the filmmakers’ approach. Michael Dweck and Gregory Kershaw don’t just observe; they immerse themselves. Their director’s statement about “looking for people still tethered to their dirt” is more than a poetic turn of phrase—it’s a philosophy. What many people don’t realize is how rare this kind of filmmaking is today. In an era of quick cuts and talking heads, Burgundy slows down, inviting you to luxuriate in its rhythms.
From my perspective, this is where the film’s magic lies. It’s not just about the wine; it’s about the rituals, the inheritance, the quiet struggles of those who dedicate their lives to something as seemingly simple as grapes. What this really suggests is that pleasure—whether in a glass of wine or in life itself—is not a hobby but a discipline. It’s a detail that I find especially interesting, because it challenges our modern obsession with instant gratification.
The Tangled Lives Behind the Label
Here’s where the film gets truly compelling: the people. An aspiring sommelière, a vineyard worker, an aristocratic winemaker, a maître d’hôtel—each character is a thread in a larger tapestry. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the film blurs the line between observation and invention. Dweck and Kershaw admit to “dreaming stories onto the lives” they followed, and that’s what elevates Burgundy from a documentary to something more akin to a novel.
In my opinion, this is where the film’s commentary on legacy shines. The aristocratic winemaker defining his legacy, the maître d’hôtel seeking an heir—these aren’t just personal stories; they’re universal. If you think about it, we’re all grappling with what we leave behind, whether it’s a bottle of wine or a memory. This raises a deeper question: What does it mean to preserve something while also allowing it to evolve?
A Portrait of a Magical Community
The Venice Film Festival has become a launching pad for nonfiction storytelling, and Burgundy fits right in. But what sets it apart is its ability to make the mundane feel magical. The filmmakers describe the community as “tangled” yet “afloat on something exquisite,” and that’s exactly how the film feels. It’s a love letter to a way of life that’s both ancient and fragile.
What many people don’t realize is how much work goes into making something look effortless. The film’s 90-minute runtime belies the years of immersion it took to create. This is where the comparison to The Truffle Hunters is most striking. Both films are about people who live in harmony with their environment, but Burgundy adds a layer of emotional complexity. It’s not just about the craft; it’s about the people behind it.
Why This Matters Beyond the Vineyards
If you’re not a wine enthusiast, you might wonder why any of this matters. Personally, I think that’s the wrong question. Burgundy isn’t just for oenophiles; it’s for anyone who’s ever wondered about the meaning of devotion. Whether it’s to a craft, a family, or a legacy, the film reminds us that life is about more than just survival—it’s about savoring.
From my perspective, this is what makes Burgundy so timely. In a world that often feels rushed and disposable, the film is a reminder to slow down, to notice the exquisite in the everyday. It’s a call to appreciate the tangled, messy beauty of human existence.
Final Thoughts: A Glass Half Full
As Burgundy premieres at Venice, I can’t help but wonder how it will resonate with audiences. Will they see it as a wine documentary, or will they recognize it for what it truly is—a love letter to life itself? In my opinion, the latter is far more likely.
What this film really suggests is that the most meaningful things in life are often the hardest to define. Pleasure, legacy, devotion—these aren’t concepts you can bottle and sell. They’re experiences, and Burgundy invites you to experience them fully. So, pour yourself a glass, settle in, and let the film wash over you. Because, as the filmmakers put it, “a life built on pleasure is not a simple life”—but it’s certainly worth living.
