Tonight, many movie fans -- plus wine fans and wine fan wannabes -- will be lifting glasses of Pinot Noir (no bleeping Merlot) and cheering for "Sideways" to take home an Academy Award.

The off-center road-trip comedy, in which wine snob Miles and his on-the-prowl buddy, Jack, drink their way through the wine country of Santa Ynez Valley, near Santa Barbara, Calif., is something completely different from the usual multiplex fodder.

The parade of wines consumed, labels and varietals shown off like logos on sportswear, has sparked exploding tourism at the small wineries mentioned in the film. Across the county, wine shops report sell-outs of Miles' wine of choice, Pinot Noir.

The Santa Barbara Conference & Visitors Bureau has come up with "Sideways, The Map," a self-guided tour map with18 film locations. (It's free at (800) 676-1266 or santabarbaraca.com.)

Tour companies are offering "Sideways" wine-tasting excursions.

"For the 'Sideways' tours, most of the people are not [wine] professionals. They just want to relive the fun of that movie," Personal Tours Ltd. director David Echols told USA Today.

I guess some of the fun was lost on me. As a food editor friend put it: "Miles is an alcoholic who steals from his mother, his womanizing friend breaks a woman's heart so bad, she beats him bloody. And, yet, these guys are presented as lovable. How does Hollywood do it?"

Worse yet, Miles is such a horse's behind about wine. (I had fun laughing at him.) This quality may especially irk me because I run into it so often -- about wine and food, but usually wine. Tell a group of people that you write about food and cooking, and any of these types present will immediately start trying to show off. They become easy to spot, and avoid.

Here's an example. When my husband and I visited Normandy, we drank the local wines, which were roses. We dined outdoors on warm June evenings, when twilight seemed to last forever. The cool, light wine was a delightful companion as we went over our experiences of the day and ordered in hesitant French.

I talked about the trip and the roses at a party, and a wine snob immediately lifted his nose, made a comment about soda pop and wrote me off. Rather than hearing the whole experience, he heard "rose drinker."

When Miles started talking about a wine's hints of asparagus and nutty Edam cheese, I cringed. I'm more likely to be the one who says, like Jack, "Tastes good to me." However, unlike Jack, I feel guilty about it. Just as I feel guilty about expressing an opinion about the movie. Fear of ridicule, I suppose, although this exists in no other part of my life. Not about my knowledge of or opinions about food, writing, ACC basketball, politics or who was fired on "The Apprentice."

It's such an original movie that I wish I liked it more than I did. But "Sideways" did make me think about why people become interested in wine or food, and it's not always because of the wine or the food. Is a bottle of wine to be enjoyed or examined? Passed around, or viewed as a character flaw?

I have attended a couple of guided wine tastings, in the interest of expanding my knowledge -- OK, and to get a pleasant buzz on some expensive wines I'd never buy. It was enlightening to compare different makes of the same type of wine and intriguing that they could be so different. But I discovered that, about half the time, I disliked the wines I was supposed to like, according to the experts. When I said that one red wine smelled, to me, like old gym socks, the looks around the room encouraged me to keep further opinions to myself.

Same thing back in the '80s when everyone was drinking Chardonnay. Remember that? Most Chardonnays I ran into had the flavor of scorched fireplace logs. But, oh no, couldn't say that. If you didn't like the woody flavor from the oak barrels, then there was something wrong with you, not the wine. I felt vindicated when wine writers began talking about "overoaked" Chardonnays.

My take on wine: I never met a champagne I didn't like, from $10 Freixenet to $100 Dom Perignon, because it's the fun wine. I like Chianti because it makes me remember a trip to Italy. On a hot summer evening, a dry rose still sounds pretty good.

And I'm going to drink Merlot, if I want. If you don't like it, you can eat my cork.

Wine is associated with enjoyment and celebrations, but Miles reduces it to an academic specimen pinned to a board. My favorite part of "Sideways" is when Maya, wise woman of the world, talks about why she likes wine. She reaches poetry as she talks about how wine is alive and always evolving, and how drinking it today will offer a different experience than drinking it on any other day -- and it just tastes so good.

She's talking about life, not just wine. This is a woman who knows how to live -- you just drink it up.

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