Wait, is ‘Emily In Paris’ good now?
Or have I simply lost my mind?
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NOTE: This review contains spoilers for the first half of Emily In Paris’ fourth season, which is currently streaming on Netflix. The second half debuts September 12th.
I’m not gonna lie, when I sat down to watch the new season of Emily In Paris, I was planning to write a short, snarky piece about whatever ridiculous new twist the hate-watchable show cooked up this season. I even took notes about the awkward product place for an animated virtual reality app and a goofy storyline about Emily bringing the kiss cam to France. Then a weird thing happened. About two episodes in (after I paused to read a Wikipedia plot summary to remember whatever the hell happened last season) I found myself getting unexpectedly sucked into the series. I took fewer and fewer notes. And instead of laughing at the show I was kind of… charmed by it?
Maybe it’s just Stockholm Syndrome. Lily Collins’ fizzy, frantic Emily Cooper has somewhat improbably been in our lives for four years now. And it’s possible I’ve just been worn down to the point of submission. That does seem to be Emily’s superpower within the world of the show. I’m also entering this season with a newfound appreciation for Lucas Bravo after his scene-stealing turn in the disastrous George Clooney/Julia Roberts rom-com Ticket to Paradise. But even excusing those eternal factors, I think season four showcases some concrete ways in which the once frustratingly frivolous series actually has evolved over the years.
For one thing, after three agonizing seasons of love triangle nonsense, the third episode “Masquerade” finally lets Emily and Gabriel get together as a couple, which is genuinely such a relief—not necessarily because I’m Team Gabriel but just because decision is better than indecision. TV shows are so scared of losing their will-they-won’t-they storytelling engine that they often underestimate just how annoying it can be to watch a will-they-won’t-they stretch on for too long. And season four really clicks into place once it realizes it can stop artificially keeping Emily and Gabriel apart and just let them date. While their carriage make-out session left much to be desired, their riverside confession of love is much sweeter.
It's not just the plot moves that are working, though. Approaching this season with fresh eyes (it’s been almost two years since Emily last graced our screens), I realized that maybe I haven’t been giving creator Darren Star enough credit for how intentionally he’s built his leading lady’s arc over the years. When the show first premiered, I kind of just assumed we were supposed to relate to Emily’s plucky American in Paris point of view and judged the show each time she made a decision that felt more psychotic than the last. But not only has Emily chilled out thanks to her time in France, it’s also become clear that Star really does see her as more of a wackadoo Type A weirdo than a true American everywoman.
I genuinely laughed out loud at the adorable little scene in the fourth episode “The Grey Area” where Emily’s friend Mindy (Ashley Park) describes her as “Not sex-on-the-roof girl. You’re sex on the bed, with the lights off, and a towel down.” Self-awareness and specificity are key to crafting an endearing rom-com heroine. And where Emily once felt annoyingly detached from reality, she’s morphed into a character whose quirks feel specific and whose flaws feel intentional. I certainly wouldn’t want to hang out with her in real life, but as a TV heroine, she’s far more endearing than she once was.
It also helps that she’s not the show’s only heroine anymore. Really, the greatest creative choice Emily In Paris has made over the years is to evolve into a true ensemble series—particularly when it comes to its French characters. Sylvie (Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu) is no longer just Emily’s icy boss, but a well-rounded character in her own right. (Even if her husband’s new beach-themed club is the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen.) Bruno Gouery’s goofy Luc has a few more layers to him thanks to the addition of a Michelin inspector girlfriend and some new workplace ambitions. And it’s especially nice to see Samuel Arnold’s scene-stealing Julien get his own storyline this season, rather than just delivering snarky one-liners in the background. His “penis pants” subplot provides my favorite image of the season.
I even appreciate the show’s willingness to keep Emily’s frenemy/former romantic rival Camille (Camille Razat) around long after most shows would’ve dumped the character. Camille’s own narcissistic main character syndrome makes her a sort of bizzarro French version of Emily; like they’re the Professor X and Magneto of entitled, Paris-based Millennial white women. And in a show full of Americanized tropes, Camille’s semi-toxic, oddly sweet co-dependence with Gabriel feels distinctly European in its emotional ambiguities.
Emily In Paris’ “midseason finale” even teases an opportunity for Camille to go full-villain if the show wants to take her there. That, plus the promise that Mindy might finally dump her creepy rich boyfriend and get back together with her hot bandmate, is more than enough to have me tuning back in when the second half of the season drops. And while I would’ve watched even if the first half were another frothy trainwreck, it’s nice to have my expectations sit higher than the bottom of the Seine for once.
Other stuff I’ve worked on lately: I made my grand return to The A.V. Club to talk about The Umbrella Academy’s legacy of great dance sequences.
Good that this season looks better As an aside, my 67 year old brother-in-law, whose only other tv interests of which I am aware are formula one and classic Top Gear, recommended this show a few months ago. I was surprised.