How long can Emily possibly stay in Paris? The Netflix series in question débuted way back in October of 2020, in the benighted early days of the pandemic, when it seemed possible that nothing would ever be normal again. Here was a shining beacon of banality, a streaming series that didn't even attempt to challenge viewers, instead bathing us in comfort as Emily jogged through the City of Light, became a successful influencer, and remained tackily American in the face of French decadence. We couldn't leave our houses, but Emily, played by Lily Collins, was our tourist avatar.
At the time, I dubbed the series "ambient television," a multimedia production designed to function as background while you looked at your phone. Emily's recently released fourth season is much the same, but more so—that is, it's worse, in ways that reflect the hollowing out of the streaming industry that spawned it. A show about the protagonist's career at a luxury-marketing agency has become luxury marketing; scarcely an episode goes by without multiple product placements.
The characters are mere containers for their monetizable personal brands, both within the show's narrative and outside of it. (This month, Netflix launched an "Emily in Paris" video game.) Paris, too, is a shadow of itself, appearing onscreen via a small number of repeating sets as thin as theatre façades.
Four years have gone by in real life since the beginning of the show. After a careful rewatch, I have surmised that somewhe.