Uncle Henry Skinner Quotes in A Good Year (2006)

Uncle Henry Skinner: You'll come to see that a man learns nothing from winning. The act of losing, however, can elicit great wisdom. Not least of which is, uh... how much more enjoyable it is to win. It's inevitable to lose now and again. The trick is not to make a habit of it.

Uncle Henry Skinner: Max, have I told you why I enjoy making wine so much?

Young Max: You don't make the wine, Uncle Henry - that guy Duflot does.

Uncle Henry Skinner: [Reproachfully] In France it's always the landowner who makes the wine, even though he does nothing more than supervise with binoculars from the comfort of his study. No, I enjoy making wine, because this sublime nectar is quite simply incapable of lying. Picked too early, picked too late, it matters not - the wine will always whisper into your mouth with complete, unabashed honesty every time you take a sip.

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.

Uncle Henry Skinner: [Voiceover narration] Dear Max - I know it's been many years since we last spoke. But I find myself in a bit of a jam, and I'm afraid I need your help. The thing is, Max old boy, I'm dying. I know this because, uh, Dr. Karr, my physician, has stopped talking about my health and begun discussing the weather. Convinced that Death, like all tradesmen, would be unable to find my front door, and always having believed wills to be an open invitation to the Reaper, I find myself impelled to impress upon your kindness. I have a daughter. Her name is Christie Roberts. Sadly, we have never met. Her mother's name is Allison. She was a tour guide at a tiny vineyard in northern California. Max, I should like you to find her. And to this end, I would like to leave her what is rightfully hers. I hope this decision doesn't hurt your feelings, and as successful as you are, you don't need it. I hope you understand. Because even in its present state, La Siroque is a place of magic, and it is my heartfelt wish that Christie should share in that magic. I like to think of her here. After all, she and La Siroque are all I leave behind. Your loving uncle, Henry Skinner.