If it were a wine, Randall Miller’s “Bottle Shock” would strike most judges as a tad overbearing. In its aim for herbal complexity, the film, which opens in New York tomorrow, mistakes a cluttered bouquet for a rich aroma, and while it has all the flavors one would expect, it assembles them in a rushed, almost random fashion. Piling one drama on top of another, the texture becomes a disaster — lacking subtlety, suffering from over-fermentation.

Most unfortunately, “Bottle Shock” fails in its chief purpose: to dramatize the 1976 wine tasting heard ’round the world, when wines from California’s Napa Valley surpassed their French counterparts at a blind taste test organized by French experts. By all accounts, it was a revolutionary moment in the history of the wine industry, and it thrust northern California into the spotlight. But when the moment finally arrives in Mr. Miller’s retro soap opera, it does so almost as an afterthought.

Perhaps the problem stems from the fact that Mr. Miller has to make everything in “Bottle Shock” — every character, relationship, locale — exist at an extreme, which makes the wine almost irrelevant by comparison. Our central hero, Bo Barrett (Chris Pine) isn’t just the son of a Napa winemaker. He’s the ultimate 1970s hippie (accompanied by a clichéd ’70s soundtrack that keeps leaning on the Doobie Brothers), complete with flip-flops, surfboard, and a mop of stringy, unwashed blonde hair. Clearly too cool for a comb or a college education, Bo’s apathy makes him anything but a wine snob.

Bo is surrounded by the grape fanatics. Jim (Bill Pullman), his father, isn’t just the owner of a vineyard; he’s quit his corporate gig and bet his future on buying the land and equipment in hopes of producing the perfect chardonnay. Gustavo (Freddy Rodriguez) is Bo’s co-worker on the vineyard, not just the hired help but a winemaker in secret, crafting his own recipe behind his own father’s rundown shack. And then there’s Sam (Rachael Taylor), the gorgeous blonde intern who falls in love with both Bo and Gustavo.

It says something that droll and dry Alan Rickman gives the film’s most balanced performance. He plays Steven Spurrier, the British operator of a French wine shop who organizes the tasting as a promotional stunt to coincide with America’s bicentennial. He’s convinced that it will be little more than a reassertion of French dominance, but as he travels to California and skeptically visits one amateur vineyard after another (offering payment for tastings, much to the astonishment of operators), he is surprised by the flavors he encounters halfway around the world.

Given the grand tasting to come, Spurrier should really be the film’s most important character. He is the outsider, bringing a different perspective to the table (and also a fair bit of humor, as he samples both wines and the mystery that is Kentucky Fried Chicken). But Mr. Miller doesn’t seem to know what the central story is here. Is it about a community? A father and son? A new romance? A French snob embracing American culture?

Sure, a film can be about all these things, but there has to be some sense of priority. A two-hour film cannot hit all these benchmarks without taking a few short cuts, and as the relationships grow flimsier, the characters sink into caricatures. This “true story” ceases to be emotionally believable.

There is a lot of feel-good sentiment in “Bottle Shock,” no doubt an earnest attempt to create an inspiring spectacle. But amid all the broken hearts, impossible dreams, nationalistic bouts of pride, and skyrocketing international stakes, there’s little time to sip or savor. Curiously, “Bottle Shock” seems to be a wine film made expressly for people who might find the subject too boring. Why bother forcing it on an unrefined palate?