Emily In Paris review: season 3 simply extends the show's mindless extravaganza
Congratulations to Netflix for making Emily In Paris one of the most glamorous yet insipid series on TV
Netflix’s Emily In Paris is nothing if not consistent. Consistently vacuous, that is. Darren Star’s half-hour comedy is visually decadent but narratively mind-numbing. It’s what makes the show ideal background viewing material because nothing significant occurs to warrant your complete attention. To date, Emily In Paris’ approach to the Parisian adventures of Chicago native Emily Cooper (Lily Collins) has been “rinse and repeat,” and the show’s 10-episode third season stays true to these roots. Storylines—unlike the snappy outfits—are recycled to a grating degree. Unfortunately, no amount of flashy wardrobe changes and gorgeous scenery make up for a tedious plot, pacing, and protagonist.
Despite most of the actors’ efforts, Emily In Paris is still a chore. The show suffers by trying to be superficially earnest instead of fully embracing its whimsical nature. The new episodes carry on the trend of being equal parts boring and confusing. How many times does the audience need to relive the Emily-Gabriel-Camille-Alfie love square? (Hint: Until the last-minute cliffhanger of season three). Emily’s romance has a similar trajectory: She chooses one man, only to pine for the other. At least EIP establishes Laviscount and Brave as swoon-worthy leads, and creates a solid chemistry between Emily and Alfie, even more so than in season two, making the tug-of-war even worse.
However, a similar complication now applies to her professional life, too. She’s pulled between working for Madeline (Kate Walsh) at Savoir or joining Sylvie’s (Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu) marketing agency. Emily has a tough time choosing and it lands her in hot water. Quelle surprise.
The third season begins with the most Emily In Paris-esque frame of all time: Emily in a pink tulle dress atop the glittering Eiffel Tower at night, wistfully staring out at the city she now calls home. It sells the dreamlike fantasy of Paris exactly as intended. And it’s what the show usually feels like: A basic (dare I say, “ringarde”) travelogue from the limited perspective of an uninteresting American millennial. So, naturally, now she’s a part-time influencer who goes live from segway tours, bumper car rides, and hot chocolate runs. In that sense, EIP is the equivalent of mindlessly browsing through TikTok—an overlong scrolling session that feels like an amusing enough waste of time.