She changes every 30 seconds, still can’t speak French yet is adored by all in this theme-park version of the City of Light Lucien Laviscount as Alfie and Lily Collins as Emily in season 4 of the irksome, tone-deaf Emily in Paris. Photo: Netflix (L to R) Lily Collins as Emily, Ashley Park as Mindy in the new season of Emily in Paris. (Photo: Netflix) Lily Collins as Emily (Photo: Netflix) You have to feel a little sorry for the people of Paris.
It’s difficult, I know, when they’re lucky enough to wake up every morning in one of the most beautiful cities in the world and we’re not. Paris is the City of Light, the city of the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Champs-Elysees, the Arc de Triomphe, the River Seine and the Place de la Concorde — and that’s before we get to all the great artists, writers, filmmakers and actors it has birthed and inspired. But still.
Parisians deserve our sympathy. One week, they’re riding high, giddy with pride in the afterglow of the spectacularly successful Olympic Games. The next, they’re facing into the fresh torments of season four of Emily in Paris (Netflix, from Thursday, August 15).
Parisians loathe Emily in Paris. When it made its debut in 2020, it was met with a barrage of anger and hostility. Emily in Paris: Season 4 Part 1 | Official Trailer It was slammed for stereotyping Parisians — and by extension, all French people — as lazy, vain, preening, disloyal, parochial and hygienically challenged, which it does.
This wasn’t just TV critics or heavyweight cultural commentators being snooty. On social media, French viewers in their 20s — the target audience of the series — ridiculed it for bearing no resemblance whatsoever to real life in the city. Anti- Emily in Paris graffiti even began appearing on walls.
If you haven’t seen it, lucky you. Emily (Lily Collins), an American 20-something who works in marketing for a pharmaceutical company in Chicago, finds herself — for reasons not worth the keystrokes it would take to explain — transported to Paris at short notice to work in marketing for a high-end fashion company. She’s been sent there to sprinkle some American cultural fairy dust over their social media operation.
Within minutes, she’s waltzing around in the kind of fabulous outfits that a 20-something with a mid-range salary couldn’t possibly afford unless they’re shoplifting on the side, and tripping over a minefield of French cliches. (L to R) Lily Collins as Emily, Ashley Park as Mindy in the new season of Emily in Paris. (Photo: Netflix) The running gag, and at this stage it’s run several marathons, is that Emily doesn’t speak French.
Now, Parisians are known to appreciate visitors who at least try to use a little French, even if it’s no more than a “bonjour”, a “merci” or an “au revoir”. The courtesy is welcomed. Not only does Emily not speak French, she doesn’t bother trying to learn, trusting she can bluff her way through.
She blunders around, tone-deaf and entitled, careening from one faux pas to another. If this were the real Paris rather than a theme park version, Emily would get on everyone’s nerves. Instead, they all find her cute and adorable.
Irresistible, too. Men fall at her feet on every street corner. Lily Collins as Emily (Photo: Netflix) Viewers, on the other hand, are more likely to find Emily deeply annoying and wonder why anyone this dim and shallow would be given a marketing campaign to run, when she doesn’t look like she could run a bath without scalding her hands, and never seems to do any actual work.
Four years on from that first season, Emily still changes her outfit every 30 seconds and still can’t speak any French. But that’s OK because the entire population of Paris has bowed down before her. When Emily is off screen, the French characters all speak French.
When she’s around, they all speak English, not just to her but to one another. It seems Emily’s imperialist mission to make the French more American is succeeding. Lily Collins plays the leading role in Emily In Paris (Ian West/PA) Season four opens with Emily still pinging between two men: the hunky French chef and the hunky English guy she works with.
There’s some nonsense about Emily and English Hunk having to kiss on screen for a marketing stunt at Roland-Garros, which is awkward, since they broke up last season. But he turns up for the kiss anyway, so Emily thinks they’re on again. But then he tells her they’re still broken up.
Or something. It’s impossible to care. One of the most egregious things about Emily in Paris is how it completely ignores the city’s racial and cultural diversity.
There’s a few non-white faces: Emily’s best friend is Asian (and even more shallow, annoying and materialistic than Emily), her gay friend and English Hunk are black. Otherwise, this fantasy Paris is as whitewashed as Richard Curtis’s Notting Hill. Merde totale.
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