
Armen Weitzman
Miles Jr.

“Life has its highs and its merlots.”
Jack Jr, Miles Jr and the whole gang are back for one last wine-soaked journey prompted by the mysterious "Sommelier." Joined this time by Puck, a fan of The Napa Boys comics, the group will learn about love, loss, friendship and viticulture.
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I’ve always suspected that wine-country comedies are actually just horror movies with better catering. There is something inherently unsettling about a group of adults retreating to a landscape of rolling, manicured hills to drink fermented grapes while their own lives ferment, usually quite poorly, in the background. Nick Corirossi’s The Napa Boys (2026) leans into this discomfort, but it does so with a strange, hazy affection.
It’s a road trip movie, sure, but it’s really a funeral procession for the kind of friendship that survives only on shared history and, occasionally, shared grievances.

Corirossi, who also steps in front of the camera, seems interested in the specific friction that arises when you force people who have outgrown each other into a confined space—in this case, a cramped rental car winding through the Santa Ynez Valley. The premise involves the usual suspects, Jack Jr. and Miles Jr., pulled into a quest by a mysterious figure known as “The Sommelier.” It sounds like the setup for a caper, but the film has zero interest in the mechanics of a plot.
Instead, it’s obsessed with the cadence of male intimacy. When Armen Weitzman’s character speaks, he often looks like he’s trying to swallow the air he’s pushing out—a physical anxiety that perfectly mirrors the film's refusal to let any conversation resolve cleanly.
Watching the group interact, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Sideways, that 2004 titan of the genre, though Corirossi isn’t trying to replicate Payne’s melancholy. This feels looser, more disjointed, like a conversation you have at 3:00 AM when everyone is too tired to lie anymore. It’s not interested in the prestige of the wine; it’s interested in the rot underneath the cork.
"An aggressively absurd, inside-jokey bro-comedy whose transfixing lead turn and big laughs for a niche crowd are undercut by a loose, overlong story and deliberately alienating humor."
Corirossi’s performance as Jack Jr. is singled out as the film’s engine, with several viewers calling it the funniest work he has done and crediting his commitment and bizarre energy for much of the appeal. Specific supporting players like Mitch, Paul Rust, Jamar Malachi Neighbors, and Sarah Ramos earn praise for stealing scenes and leaning into the absurdity, and some viewers report cackling through the nonsense and becoming obsessed with its cult-comedy vibe. Others describe it as a 30‑minute bit stretched to 90 minutes, with a barely-there plot, a grating edgelord tone, overuse of poop and gross-out gags, and a wall of in-jokes that makes it a “not for me” experience and even one of the worst movies they have ever sat through.
If you thought The Napa Boys 4: The Sommelier’s Amulet was chaotic on screen, wait till you hear what was happening off it. From real-life disaster to IMAX outrage and a body-horror dye job gone wrong, this scrappy wine-country comedy has the receipts.
The Napa Boys may pretend to be a bloated, cash‑cow Part 4, but behind the scenes it’s a micro‑budget fever dream: birthed during a wildfire, shot in nine days, projected in IMAX, nearly emptied a TIFF theater—and permanently stained one comedian’s foot in the name of cinema.
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