Emily in Paris, Season 2 (2021) - There’s a limit to chic
Credit: allocine.fr
Finishing off Season 1 by sleeping with her friend’s boyfriend, thinking he is leaving for Normandy, only to find out that he is actually staying in Paris (all whilst planning a trip to St-Tropez with another man), Emily (Lily Collins) is back, with her oversized coats and persistent optimism. For ten episodes. Hold onto your berets.
In Season 2, we follow Emily through various mishaps in both personal and professional life as she attempts to balance new clients (a leek company) and lie her way through her passionate night with chef Gabriel (Lucas Bravo), picking up a whole new set of clichés along the way (apparently, French people cannot, will not, ever, work on the weekends). Yet, the clichés aren’t really the issue with Emily in Paris: as a French woman, I can happily say that I find the snobs, the croissants and the obsession with the Père Lachaise Cemetery all rather amusing (though few are true). The first real problem with this inherently flawed series is that Emily Cooper never learns. One of the main reasons she was marked off as unlikeable in Season 1 was her apparent belief that the French should accommodate to the English language, rather than the opposite. So when a client asks that all their meetings be conducted in French, Emily’s cutting boss Sylvie (Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu) suggests, as most viewers have, that perhaps it is time for Emily to learn French, properly this time. Instead, she picks up a Brit boy (newcomer Lucien Laviscount), who confirms that the series’ stereotypes aren’t just limited to the French and American (again, all amusing rather than offensive). The Brits – entirely embodied by corporate banker Alfie, whose job is to deal with something or other related to Brexit – are rude bad boys, who hate Paris, like football, beer, pubs, and call Emily Cooper “Coopa”. But don’t worry, they have a soft side. A direct contrast with sensitive, sexy French-accented Gabriel (a beyond cringe-worthy scene in which he cooks Emily a leek – just a leek – resembles an advert for Sainsbury’s at Christmas), Alfie is a nice addition to the series, if only because he isn’t involved in the rapidly tiring ménage-a-trois Emily, Gabriel and Camille (Camille Razat) have been jumping in and out of since Season 1. His apartment also offers up an interesting view on Paris, a clinical, Canary Wharf-like pad that opposes Emily’s carte postale Paris, almost as though the creators are suddenly aware of how unlike Paris it is. Perhaps, however, it is a metaphor (though I doubt they went that far) for Emily’s rainbow brain, which never ceases to be positive despite the amount of ridiculous situations it gets itself into. You won’t find Emily Cooper lying in bed, mortified or depressed about a mix-up at work. No, despite crippling guilt, Emily is up, made up, dressed in ridicule par excellence, and she is ready for the day, yet another attribute of the Americans, apparently. It is something to admire about her, yet what also makes her unforgivably irritating compared to her sultry French counterparts, who sleep with their clients and stab each other in the back but never feel an ounce of shame. Isn’t that just so much more sexy?
The result of such a colour-filtered Paris however is an inevitably colour-filtered script and story in which, though the sets and clothes are nice to look at (albeit the latter get more preposterous, if that’s possible), the problems in characters’ lives are just that – problems in characters’ lives. Nothing feels real or noteworthy, and heartbreaks, disappointments and mistakes are just plotlines on a pretty set. Aside from mild amusement, or mild annoyance, there is nothing much to be felt in this weaker, less exciting season: even when a stunt goes wrong and Emily and her prized phone are sprayed with blood, an “oh dear” just about covers the range of emotions the series is able to provide. This is not to say that it isn’t still entertaining and binge-worthy, though certain episodes lag and Mindy (Ashley Park) and her busking band are allowed to perform for far longer than they should. But perhaps Emily in Paris has now surpassed escapism: while the first season offered up the ideal of a new life in a new, beautiful city, the second feels more like an add-on, in which novelty fades away and there is nothing to look forward to anymore.