A Netflix Review

As a self-proclaimed Francophile and fan of the series “Sex in the City,” I was elated at the announcement and release of the Netflix series Emily in Paris. Saddled with the dull-drums of the ongoing COVID19 pandemic, a need for mental transportation to “other” places and distraction from the consistently negative atmosphere of the world at the moment, a visually romantic and lighthearted binge session seemed like just what the streaming doctor ordered.

All Cliche no Charm

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m guilty of romanticizing many of the historic cities of Europe by choosing to only engage with the historical aspects of the cities and culture. I want to be Audrey Hepburn in 1950's Rome, and I want to sip wine in Paris with Ernest Hemingway in the 1920s. Another reviewer of this show, stated that “Americans only want to see the Paris of 100 years ago,” and to a great extent, I agree with that sentiment and can find somewhat of a parallel in my hometown of Kansas City.  

Not known for being a city of light or romance, however, Kansas City was once a hub for the cattle trade and the resulting reputation of making good barbecue, but while the cattle industry has long since left, the reputation remains. I don’t even enjoy barbecue but still must converse about it with anyone visiting the city or that I meet elsewhere after the name of the city is mentioned and I can only imagine what it must be like for a Parisian?! Anyway, I digress…

While I do have some similar criticisms of the Sex in The City series, some of the obvious story issues such as how Carrie was able to somehow fund a Manhattan lifestyle on the income of a singular weekly newspaper column, are even more glaring in the Emily in Paris series. For example, the seemingly overnight popularity and growth of her Instagram account, or the fact that this early-career person always seems to have the edge on everyone else around her. I don’t know if it was an attempt at personifying American superiority, French indifference, or what, but in my experience, if some 24 years old was continuously making me look inferior at work by touting that they had a masters degree while only having had a year or two of experience, I’d be pretty annoyed too. “Fresh perspective” is one thing, but the savior of an entire company by way of occasional Instagram posts is ludicrous.

Setting aside how I feel about the career/finance issues that have long been noticed in a variety of other successful shows such as Friends, there’s also the issue of fashion and romantic entanglement. Unlike Sex and the City, whose characters were still impossibly chic, managed to have signature styles (for the most part) just a half step between timeless and fashion-forward. Carrie being the exception, the other three characters dressed in a manner semi-reflective of both their career field as well as their level of success within it. However, Emily appears to be dressed like some sort of indulged teenager that is entirely indifferent to either the environment she is in or the message that her outfit sends. For someone that claims to be so “in the know” about what subtle messaging does for a brand, I can only assume by the way her outfits scream “petulant American teenager,” that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

Then there are the many many romances. This show (and many other shows and films like it) makes it appear that impossibly handsome Frenchmen are literally on every street corner just waiting to bump into some ridiculous American girl who has just had her heartbroken. Gag me. These characters range in their most glaring of flaws, but at the heart of it, each is entirely devoid of any meaningful personality or at the very least the desire to cast an actor capable of portraying imaginary substance. Good, Bad, or whatever, every romantic interest in this series is nothing more than just a pretty face.

My Scorecard

In conclusion, yes, I did watch the entire season of a show that I knew I hated by halfway through the first episode. Yes, the scenery, colors, conversational cadence, and predictably excellent quality of a Netflix production, was addicting. However, while some of the supporting characters may have been mildly interesting it doesn’t change the fact that the central character is a paper doll and her main love interest is devoid of any real sense of self. No matter how pretty the color of the lipstick, when on a pig, nothing will make it cuter. I give this show a solid “D” grade.