Melbourne Reviews

These days there are a few comedy shows involving wine tasting. The Brut Truth, by featuring champagne, gives this one a more specific marketing pitch than its rivals. However, some rough edges prevent this experience from having the subtlety and delicacy that we would expect given the subject.

Our host, Prétentieux vin Branleur, is not as pretentious as their name would suggest, and that’s not the only surprise about this character. Rather than being an insider, he is a champagne enthusiast, gaining exposure through elite business circles. At the outset we were promised that, regardless of our knowledge level, we would learn something from this show.

That seems to be a reasonable claim. There were interesting segments on the business conglomerate that produces a number of famous brands, and their marketing tactics. Similarly, information was provided on the history of the region of Champagne, and on the making of its famous namesake.

The comedy was not nearly as successful. There were some amusing anecdotes about notable historical figures from the wine business. However, the more low-brow content (including a C word that is definitely not “chardonnay”) strikes the palette as a readily avoidable fault.

As a connoisseur would tell us, the quality of a wine depends on its structure. There is certainly room to tighten that up here. A rambling opening took some time to introduce our host and the show’s mission; some repetition could be cut. For those with even a little knowledge, the regular use of “French Champagne” became an annoyance that lessens the host’s credibility.

Another structural limitation is a raised platform with displayed bottles that will likely obscure a video screen for some punters sitting on the left of the venue. It was also more than a little unfortunate that we covered the best glasses for champagne, yet our five samples (totalling two standard glasses across the 70 minutes) were consumed from tumblers.

The show seems in need of the rigour of an outsider willing to challenge apparent inconsistencies. For example, our host spent a good deal of time talking about bottle prices – how much is due to the massive advertising budgets of some champagne houses, and how little relates to the actual product. This undercuts the later statement of how higher price is an indicator of quality, which is debatable at least, especially for the non-expert consumer.

We were told that your taste is all that matters, which is true to a point, but some of us were here hoping to expand our awareness. It feels that the show hasn’t quite worked out what point it wants to make.

The audience would benefit from more guidance on when we should partake of our samples. Uncertainty meant that some had finished theirs well before others had started, which lessened the feeling of a shared experience. The show could probably gain a useful tip by observing how a show like Merrick Watts’ An Idiot’s Guide to Wine effectively managed this issue.

The show was far more solid on the wine education front. If you were able to restrain yourself, then sampling your wine shortly before the descriptions of taste and aroma characteristics appeared on the screen was very useful. These segments helped us recognise notes like minerality or oyster that might otherwise have been unappreciated.

There’s a plan to have a return Fringe season in which the show will be slightly longer, which might mean the pace will be somewhat more relaxed. The Brut Truth has bubbly potential, but its value for the discerning viewer will surely be enhanced by further refinement in a later vintage.