Someone ought to make a Netflix documentary and title it, 'The Curious Case of Emily in Paris'. Here is an extraordinarily successful series, flaky enough to give croissants a complex, its humour often as flat as a souffle made with the oven door open, with a story where the lead's life always seems to be teetering at the edge of disaster, and yet, nothing much changes! Emily (Lilly Collins) is still a workaholic, clever and annoying. Gabriel (Lucas Bravo) continues to be bland and gorgeous, Mindy (Ashley Park) confused and talented, and Camille (Camille Razat) as insecure and beautiful as ever. Oh wait, she is pregnant. Or maybe not.
So, if you haven't had your fill of Paris with the just-concluded Olympics, follow Emily as she makes love on rooftops overlooking the Eiffel Tower, commodifies kissing in Roland Garros no less, and does not blink when her flatmate apologies for causing a 'cock-block' with her presence (when Emily barges in kissing Gabriel). There are continued dating woes, couture disasters (models catwalking wearing penis accessories after a #metoo exposé), situationships including a near ménage à trois...whew!
It is five episodes into the fourth season and Emily continues to blissfully play cat-and-mouse with her eager suitors. And aren't we glad! We, its equally vacuous viewers, need her to be like this — silly, airy, blithe and as 'delulu' as she pleases. Where is the fun otherwise in lazily admonishing Gabriel for his utter incapacity to make a move on Emily instead of giving us weak-kneed ones half-smiles or feeling a twinge of pity for poor stolid Alfie? And now that the second part (to be released on September 12) will be in Bella Italia, and the promo already has a dishy Italian skier, Emily can continue to play eeny, meeny, miny, moe with her men, and we will watch, despite ourselves. Now, where's my raspberry sorbet?