In an April 2008 paper compiled by the American Association of Wine Economists titled "Do More Expensive Wines Taste Better?" the results of more than 6,000 blind tastings (the sampling and evaluation of wines without prior knowledge of their identities) revealed that "individuals who are unaware of the price do not derive more enjoyment from more expensive wine." In fact, the study showed that "individuals on average enjoy more expensive wines slightly less."

However, there is a "however" in this paper that begs mentioning: Participants in the blind tastings with previous wine education did, indeed, prefer pricier offerings. Many wine professionals and proud oenophiles cultivate a taste for more expensive bottles after years of being introduced to them in plain sight. While the occasional blind tasting may find some of them rooting for less-expensive wines, their palates are conditioned, over time, to seek out the "good stuff." (I believe the popularity of glossy wine publications and their numbered rating systems speak to the power of learned perception — right or wrong — within the wine industry).

About 30 years ago, there was a widely held belief overseas — especially in France — that the good stuff would never be known as a product of the United States. Wine — decent wine, at least — was considered an Old World commodity that couldn't possibly be duplicated by American growers and bottlers. But on May 24, 1976, some vintners in California's Napa Valley turned that notion on its head in what has become known as "The Judgment of Paris." It was on that day when nine internationally respected judges (all of them French) gathered to rate 10 white wines and 10 red wines — some French, most hailing from the U.S. — in a blind tasting. In France. And the winner in the white category was: 1973 Chateau Montelena California Chardonnay. Red? Stag's Leap Wine Cellars' 1973 Cabernet Sauvignon, also from California.

The story of how the doors to U.S. wine production were blown wide open after a simple series of sips and marks on paper — not to mention decades of toil and triumph in the volcanic, alluvial and sedimentary Napa soil beds of a then-90-year-old Chateau Montelena — is recounted in the 2008 film Bottle Shock, which became available on DVD and Blu-Ray disc earlier this month.

While an engaging plot, a complementary script and beautiful scenery are reasons enough spend 103 minutes taking in this film, it is the central character studies in Bottle Shock that make it worthy of savoring like a fine, expensive Bordeaux. Alan Rickman, known among Harry Potter movie devotees as Professor Severus Snape, turns in a marvelous performance as British wine merchant Steven Spurrier — the man responsible for setting up the 1976 blind tasting in France. His snobbish impressions of the American wine market are slowly decanted and dissolved as he begins slurping his way through the California countryside, and although he has his doubts, the wine at Montelena and surrounding areas has its inevitable, veil-lifting effect. Every wine he tastes, he tastes as if it may be his last, and every facial expression is a delightful insight into his morphing belief system about California wine.

Unfortunately, the winemakers at Montelena leave a bad aftertaste in Spurrier's mouth. Head vintner Bo Barrett (Bill Pullman) and son Jim (Chris Pine, who plays Kirk in the upcoming Star Trek film, and sports an unconvincing hippie wig here) are at odds for a number of reasons, but work ethic is at the core of their family discord. Jim likes to surf and get high, and beer seems to be his go-to libation. Bo, a former 9-to-5 working stiff, knows that Chateau Montelena is in the red (not the good kind), but unfortunately, so does the bank. None of this is lost on their British visitor, who insists on paying for every sip of wine he takes. The Barretts are wary of Spurrier, too: Is this pompous European wine snob trying to embarrass and vilify American winemakers on the global stage by masterminding a rigged blind tasting in Paris?

When father and son are at odds, they usually find themselves in a makeshift outdoor boxing ring, beating the ever-loving pulp out of each other while surrounded by their bountiful harvest. Whether based on actual events or created or exaggerated to deliver a metaphor for the many gifts and punishing curses that come with being part of a family farming operation, this plein-air pugilism is wildly entertaining, and breaks the monotony of some drawn-out dialogue scenes.

Ancillary, possibly made-up characters like sexy summer wine intern Sam Fulton (Rachael Taylor) and American wine enthusiast/travel agent Maurice Cantavale (Dennis Farina) hinder the plot progression a bit, but they do add some welcome levity to the central Barrett family struggle. Real-life vintner Gustavo Brambila — an assistant winemaker at Chateau Montelena just prior to the 1976 tasting; the first Mexican-American to graduate from the UC Davis oenology program; and co-founder of Napa Valley's Gustavo Thrace winery — is played subtly-yet-magnificently by Six Feet Under's Freddy Rodriguez. Gustavo's inclusion in this film, and that of his mentor, Mr. Garcia (Miguel Sandoval), pay tribute, in some small fashion, to the huge contributions made by migrant workers and their families to California's ongoing vinicultural success. Maybe, someday, their life stories will be worthy of Hollywood's fickle (and oftentimes blind) focus. Until then, give director Randall Miller credit for acknowledging them without leaning on tired minority stereotypes.

Film, like fine wine, can be a contentious pursuit where individual motives are as hard to pin down as the quality of the final product, and Bottle Shock is no exception. In a 2007 Decanter magazine article authored by Adam Lechmere, Steven Spurrier (at the time a consulting editor for that magazine) accused the producers of Bottle Shock with grossly misrepresenting his character and the events of, and those leading up to, the 1976 decision in France.