Noah Baumbach’s “Mouse au Vin”

From The New Yorker's archive: a 2009 humor piece by the filmmaker and screenwriter.  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌   View in browser | Update your preferences Noah Baumbach's "Mouse au Vin" The filmmaker and screenwriter Noah Baumbach is well known for his movies, but some people may be unaware that he also has written for The New Yorker for years. Since 1991, Baumbach has contributed nearly a dozen humor pieces to the magazine. Between his films, which include "The Squid and the Whale" and last year's Oscar-winning "Marriage Story," Baumbauch has imagined Zagat reviews of his past relationships, Vincent van Gogh's e-mail history, Keith Richards marooned on a desert island, and, of course, bumblebees on cocaine. Baumbach's writing for The New Yorker reflects the sardonic wit and whimsy of some of his earlier films. In 2009, he published a Shouts & Murmurs titled "Mouse au Vin." Inspired by a study of mice dosed with a key component of red wine, Baumbach's piece follows a man and his rodent subject, Louis, as they embark on a series of increasingly manic, alcohol-soaked experiments. "Louis is characteristically reserved and a bit testy before we get going, but after eight or nine glasses he's back to his jocular self," Baumbach writes. "He even makes some astute comments about the 2005 Pomerol's peppery herbaceous finish. This is a terrible thing to say, but I like Louis better when he drinks." As the piece continues, the mouse, as one might expect, becomes the dominant personality. The more self-aware the rodent becomes, the more openly he revels in his lowered inhibitions. In Baumbach's surreal vision, Louis comes to resemble a kind of off-the-wagon Stuart Little, occasionally attempting to wrangle his human colleague, yet unable to corral his own gluttonous instincts. For anyone who has ever had to put up with the intrusive exploits of a belligerent mouse (and, for those of us living in New York City, who hasn't?), Baumbach's piece will strike a droll, delightful chord.   —Erin Overbey, archive editor     Shouts & Murmurs Mouse au Vin I uncork a 2003 Haut-Médoc, which has a delightfully oaky nose, and pour a glass for myself and a bowl for my subject, Louis, the gray-and-white mouse I've selected for this study. By Noah Baumbach More from the Archive     Shouts & Murmurs Buzzed Bees on cocaine. By Noah Baumbach     Casual Press Agents I Have Known There is the fellow who has been a circus press agent and can't forget his early training. By Groucho Marx This e-mail was sent to you by The New Yorker. To ensure delivery, we recommend adding newyorker@newsletters.newyorker.com to your contacts, while noting that it is a no-reply address. Please send all newsletter feedback to tnyinbox@newyorker.com.    For more from The New Yorker, sign up for our newsletters, shop the store, and sign in to newyorker.com, where subscribers always have unlimited access. Contact us with questions.   View our Privacy Policy. Unsubscribe.   Copyright © Condé Nast 2020. One World Trade Center, New York, NY 10007. All rights reserved.