Chloe Wright
Junior Editor
I would like to have a chat with Sex and the City creator Darren Star. We could go to the City of Lights, where he would be faced with the culturally rich place he desecrated with his grubby paws. I would lean over my coffee-stained newspaper, take a bite out of my pastry, and ask, quite calmly, “Qu’est-ce que tu f— maintenant?” But I wouldn’t leave my seat in a dramatic fashion. I’d sit and let him speak. I need my stupid season five of Emily in Paris. Since the show’s fifth season has been greenlit, it’s time I vent about my favorite least favorite show.
This show, to say the least, has had a history. First airing on Netflix, it received incinerating criticisms from viewers around the world. In the Emily in Paris universe, everyone will be presented as a stereotype: French, American, the quippy POC characters. If I had enough money for the amount of times they say, “Wow, so [insert ethnicity here]” when someone does something, I could afford to meet Brigitte Macron like the main character does in the show. No one is safe, not even a minor character from Ukraine who was depicted as a shallow thief. Like the smoke from the cigarettes the French characters religiously used, scandals arose, leading the former Ukrainian minister of culture Oleksandr Tkachenko to release a statement in 2022 on Telegram about the dangers of cultural misrepresentation and, without a doubt, racism.
I must not fail to mention the scandal of all scandals: the cancellation of the 2022 Golden Globes. In 2021, when Emily in Paris (a show where the non-white characters received less depth than a piece of cardboard) was nominated for an award over I May Destroy You (one where black characters were at the forefront), an investigation by the Los Angeles Times uncovered that not one black journalist was part of the organization that founded and conducted the Golden Globes for 78 years: the Hollywood Foreign Press Association (HFPA) As more actors and critics denounced the exclusion of black people from the organization, the apex of the conflict arrived when the 2022 award show was canceled and the HFPA disbanded in 2023.
It all started with a show about an American girl moving to Paris, stubbornly refusing to learn a French culture or the language, and climbing up the ladder with a myriad of men drooling over her. I mention the backstory to help you, reader, understand how positively and foundationally messed up the repercussions of this show are. The racism is, evidently, inexcusable.
On the other side of the coin, other European governments (yes, governments, not film critic essays) see the titular, quixotic, and obnoxious character Emily Cooper as a symbol of France’s soft power. Since the release of season four, President of France Emmanuel Macron and Mayor of Rome Roberto Gualtieri battled about Cooper’s allegiance to either Paris or Rome. “We will fight hard. And we will ask [the characters] to remain in Paris! Emily in Paris in Rome doesn’t make sense,” Macron said in a post on X. He has been quoted to admire the show’s depiction of France’s attractiveness.
Sharing my sentiment, Gualtieri fires back in an interview with The Hollywood Reporter Roma. “Doesn’t President Macron have more pressing matters to worry about?” As a Global Studies minor, Macron and Gualtieri’s quibble is a fascinating example of the complexities of soft power, but that’s a topic for an academic essay.
To save you, reader, the trouble of five hours of extremely public break-ups, hook-ups, and everything in between, I’ll summarize the plot of season four and my worst grievances. Alfie (the British banker and Emily’s love interest, whose existence is meant to say, “Hey, she’s not racist!”) breaks it off with Emily at her ex, Gabriel, and best friend, Camille’s, wedding. He removes himself from the plotline after some struggles and heartbreak, so it is not worth delving into his issues. Emily knows a secret: Camille has been cheating on Gabriel with her client, Sofia, for months, and she has stock in both sides of the relationship now. Then, Camille runs away (dramatically) to Monet’s home in Giverny, and Emily goes on a search to find and make amends. Everything becomes magically resolved. Gabriel and Emily get together and break up, and she finds love in Rome. Now, it is Emily in Rome, much to the dismay of Emmanuel Macron.
Camille’s character assassination had me screaming at the television. In season one and two, she was a confident but compassionate character, caught in the throes of Cooper’s dumb decisions and romantic intervention. In season three, in a jarring twist, she has a passionate affair with her client (making her the first queer woman in the show), leads Gabriel on, and takes it out on Emily when it is not her or Gabriel’s fault that Camille sucks. The fourth season refuses to hold her accountable for her actions in a way that is almost offensive; the new girlfriend and Camille become roommates with Gabriel, and the reason why he wants them kicked out is not because of the memories but instead they take up his alone time. It is lazy writing to tie everything in a bow and have no one care that a character (a bisexual one, mind you, which feels like gross stereotyping) became a terrible person.
Do my fingers deceive me? They’re typing praises for Darren Star’s abomination into my Google Doc. One of the main criticisms for the show was that the French characters barely spoke a word of French. The showrunners have listened and, for season four, implemented about half an episode of exclusively French dialogue. For those who speak French, the dubbed version is a treat. Emily’s French voice actress speaks with an American accent and uses English words that are jammed into her cheeky pronunciation. Concerning a show devoid of self-awareness (Emily Cooper is a meddling, annoying, stubborn witch for three seasons, but she’s handed everything on a silver platter), the dub winks to the audience about her incompetence.
It is worth mentioning that the show tackles a sensitive subject concerning women, inequality, and sexual harassment in the workplace (which is tragically common in French work culture, as seen in the movement #BalanceTonPorc) with grace and severity. Sylvie Grateau, Emily’s brazen and stern boss, is a victim of a popular fashion designer’s abuse and struggles to come out about her experience. But, she finds confidence and comfort in vulnerability and exposes his actions to the news. While her business relations are now in a precarious position, she and many other women (including Mindy) can find peace.
Feel free to make your informed opinion, but it is wise to treat the show like an extremely decadent cake. Emily in Paris will give you thrills and unrealistic expectations of love, but that pit in your stomach will soon arrive when you realize that it is, objectively, a bad show in every sense of the word. Ah, well. C’est la vie.