Max Skinner: (as the diving board breaks and he falls into the empty pool) Bollocks.
Fanny Chenal: (Max has brought a bottle of the rare wine) Wow - "Le Coin Perdu"? I've never actually seen a bottle...
Max Skinner: Have you heard of it?
Fanny Chenal: It's expensive... Are you trying to seduce me, Max?
Max Skinner: Oh gosh, no, of course not. Thought would never even cross my mind. Not more than six, or ten times.
Francis Duflot: (Presenting various home-cooked dishes at the dinner gathering) ... and finally, civette of wild boar, marinated in red wine, and blood pressed from the carcass.
Max Skinner: Why would you have it any other way?
Max Skinner: Morning lab rats.
Christie Roberts: (Speaking to Max) If this place meant as much to him as I believe it did, you're worse than I thought for even *thinking* about selling it... I'll leave tomorrow.
Fanny Chenal: (to Max Skinner) I'm sorry, I'm too busy to ignore you now.
Fanny Chenal: Do you know why I spent the night with you? So that now you have done what you came here to do, you will not return. For us there can be no future. There is certainty in that.
Francis Duflot: In California, they don't make wine, they make Hawaiian Punch.
Christie Roberts: Mondavi might argue with that one.
Max Skinner: (referring to Fanny Chanel) She's fantastic.
Max Skinner: (after hiring Max a smart car) This is because I didn't shag you at the Christmas party isn't it.
Gemma: I swear on my life the hire company didn't have any other cars.
Francis Duflot: (Offering his hand) A Frenchman's hand is his word... Concord?
Max Skinner: (Reluctantly shaking hands) An Englishman's word is his bond... Deal.
Max Skinner: (Walking away, muttering) Frog toss-pot!
Francis Duflot: (Walking away, muttering) English prick!
Fanny Chenal: There's something you should know about me, Max. I'm very, very choosy... I'm also very, very suspicious; very, very irrational, and I have a very, very short temper. I'm also extremely jealous and slow to forgive. Just so you know.
Christie Roberts: That's what people want. Not some wimpy wine from Luberon.
Christie Roberts: I love your accent.
Charlie Willis: I love your bum.
Max Skinner: (sticking his fist out of the sun roof) LANCE ARMSTRONG!
group of french cyclists: (grumbling and flicking him off) Fuck you!
Christie Roberts: I spend summers working in a vineyard in California.
Francis Duflot: (Chuckles) In California, they don't make wine. They make Hawaiian Punch.
Max Skinner: Ludivine? Don't you think this is a bit much? I mean, she is my cousin.
Ludivine Duflot: Almost all French aristocrat have, how you say... liaison with their cousins, yes?
Charlie Willis: So the house is falling apart and vineyard makes undrinkable wine. Excellent.
Max Skinner: (to Charlie Willis) Real men don't play bridge.
Max Skinner: (Upon first encountering Christie, at the door) The only country that issues teeth like that is America.
Christie Roberts: Oh... you speak English.
Max Skinner: Like a native.
Max Skinner: This place does not suit my life.
Fanny Chenal: No Max, it's your life that does not suit this place.
Gemma: Max Skinner's phone?
Kimberly: Hi, it's Kimberly. Is Max there?
Gemma: Just one moment.
Gemma: It's Kimberly?
(Max does the "cut off" sign)
Gemma: Sorry Kimberly, Max isn't here right now.
Kimberly: Where is he?
Gemma: Max and his fiancée are at their wedding rehearsal today.
(Max gives Gemma the thumbs up)
Kimberly: Their what?
Gemma: Would you like to leave a message?
Kimberly: No I wouldn't!
Sir Nigel: (yells) Have I finished talking? When I finish talking that's when you talk and it had better be good.
Francis Duflot: You know what Proust said. Leave pretty women to men without imagination.
Max Skinner: Francis, I'm a banker. I have no imagination.
Oenologue: It is completely dead. I would suggest growing potatoes or squash.
Christie Roberts: Are your memories of my father good?
Max Skinner: No they are extraordinary. My uncle loved women, although no one for a long time, and he never married. He loved England, yet lived in France. He was an adventurer, yet all my memories take place within 100 steps of this spot.
Uncle Henry Skinner: (Bringing out two bottles of wine) I thought, as it's your last night here, it only appropriate that we open something extra special.
Young Max: (Pointing to one of the bottles) Bandol.
Uncle Henry Skinner: Excellent choice. Tempier Bandol, 1969, the kind of wine that'll pickle even the toughest of men. I once saw a Castilian prizefighter collapse in a heap after drinking just a single glass. Perhaps my knee landing squarely in his testicles may have been partly to blame... What was I talking about before?
Young Max: You said the importance of a good blue suit can never be overstated.
Uncle Henry Skinner: Quite right. A blue suit is the most versatile of accoutrements. More important than the suit itself, is the man who fits it for you. Once you find a good tailor, you must never give his name away - not even under the threat of bodily harm.
Fanny Chenal: (Fanny approaches a customer who is behind a raised newspaper) Bonjour. Vous êtes prêt?
Max Skinner: (lowers newspaper) I think so.
Fanny Chenal: (recognizing him) You sure you don't need more time?
Max Skinner: No, I know what I want.
Fanny Chenal: You're sure?
Max Skinner: Absolutely.
Fanny Chenal: So, what is it to be?
Max Skinner: How's the soup?
Fanny Chenal: The soup is finished.
Max Skinner: Like my job... The fish?
Fanny Chenal: We've run out.
Max Skinner: That's like me with excuses.
Fanny Chenal: Don't waste my time. Choose something we have.
Max Skinner: I would like a lifetime spent with an irrational and suspicious goddess, some short-tempered jealousy on the side, and a bottle of wine that tastes like you, a glass that's never empty.
Sir Nigel: (Noticing Max admiring a valuable painting on the wall) Van Gogh.
Max Skinner: I hope you've got a good lock on the door, sir.
Sir Nigel: Don't be soft. It's not real. The REAL one's in my vault. It's a copy. Two hundred grand for a knockoff... Sit!
Max Skinner: You tried to drown me.
Fanny Chenal: And you tried to run me over in your little car.
Max Skinner: Joan of Arc?
Fanny Chenal: Oh. Jacques Cousteau.
Ludivine Duflot: Papa still speaks Provencal, you know?
Francis Duflot: Oh, but very few still understand it. It's now exclusively practiced by poets and sodomites.
Ludivine Duflot: Hmm... what a "sodomite" is, by the way?
Francis Duflot: Ah, we'll explain you tonight.
Christie Roberts: Thanks a million, Maximilian.
Christie Roberts: Did you know that dad mixed a martini for Winston Churchill? He also danced a waltz with Amelia Earhart in 1975.
Max Skinner: Well, considering that Amelia Earhart died in the 1930's, that's a perfect example of the type of exaggerator Uncle Henry was. Want to know the real Uncle Henry? Not the one your overactive imagination is manufacturing? The *real* Henry Skinner was a man so afraid of committing to the real world, that he retreated from life to drink and shag his way to a lonely and loveless end.
Max Skinner: (dealing with two obnoxious tourists) Macdonalds is in Avignon, fish and chips in Marseille. Allez.
Christie Roberts: Max, all I want is to learn about my father. This is my chance to find out who made me and... I don't care if you believe me or not.
Max Skinner: When's my appointment with the notaire?
Gemma: A little over an hour from now.
Max Skinner: My time or your time?
Max Skinner: Gemma!
Kenny: (reading "fan mail") You're my hero.
Max Skinner: Who wrote that?
Kenny: Your lawyer.
Max Skinner: (greeting two attractive women in a wine bar) Lucy! Ah, didn't know you two knew each other. Whoops.
Christie Roberts: Huh! Back in Napa, we're known to gargle and spit on occasion.
Max Skinner: Well, well. Guess who knows a thing or two about wine?
Gemma: (re: Kenny assuming Max's place as head of the trading department) He's even taking credit for your trade this week. He's telling everyone in the office that HE's the one who gave you the idea.
Max Skinner: (Unconcerned) Well, if he wasn't an ambitious and mercenary little bastard, I never would have given him the job in the first place.
Max Skinner: (points to his shirt) Fred Perry.
Francis Duflot: (points to his cap) René Lacoste.
Max Skinner: (Surprised at the make of tractor he finds in the work-shed) A 'Lamborghini' tractor!
Max Skinner: I have an obligatory cultural activity in the village tonight.
Charlie Willis: Can I come? Will there be girls?
Max Skinner: No and yes.
Charlie Willis: (Calling from London) Hello... You working out on the house?
Max Skinner: Charlie, yes. At it since daybreak.
Charlie Willis: Really... I hate to think of you, toiling down there all on your own.
Max Skinner: Well, we're English, Charlie, you know? Born to rule and sacrifice.
Charlie Willis: Yes...
Max Skinner: Your asparagus is - is lovely.
Ludivine Duflot: Thank you!
Max Skinner: Very chewy, but... lovely.
Francis Duflot: (Bringing out a special bottle of wine) C'est "Le Coin Perdu"... it's a local vin de garage.
Max Skinner: (confused) "Vin de garage"?
Christie Roberts: It's a "garage wine." Like a boutique wine. Small vineyards, small productions - *seriously* big prices.
Francis Duflot: (dismissively) It's overrated.
Christie Roberts: It didn't say that on the Web. Turns out "Le Coin Perdu" is a Provencal legend. It changes hands among collectors, but nobody knows who makes it.
Francis Duflot: Francis Duflot, vigneron.
Christie Roberts: Christie Roberts, illegitimate daughter.
Max Skinner: Kenny, why don't you go and find some small animals to hurt? I know, find a poodle and punt it off the balcony.
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