Emily in Paris Season 2

Emily in Paris is a "feel-good" series that’s easy to finish watching. The term "feel-good" refers to shows where everything goes as planned—life has enough ups and downs, so we look for a bit of fun and relaxation in our entertainment, just to lighten the mood. That’s all. Don’t think about the meaning of life or imagine becoming a character who effortlessly sails through everything. There aren’t many "feel-good" series done well, and even fewer that are both popular without being tacky. Emily incorporates many cultural differences between France and the U.S.—that is, everyone thinks these cultural differences are just like this, and so that’s how they portrayed them. From a years-old unwashed frying pan (a famous chef not washing his pan) to the French office culture, they are fully expressed, satisfying the public's imagination and making the plot plausible—unlike many Chinese dramas or TVB series that are completely off the mark, riddled with mistakes, making them unbearable to watch. A good film, then, is one that lies between ideals and real life. Can you post a few selfies on Instagram and have them reposted by Macron’s wife? Unlikely, but is it entirely impossible? Sometimes, with perfect timing and some luck, anything is possible.

Another unique aspect of Emily in Paris is that it breaks away from the usual romantic tropes in films and TV shows. In this series, a London financial whiz (single, rich, and charming), a rising star chef in Paris (also a handsome young man), and the marketing manager of a famous store (elegant, middle-aged, and suave) all hopelessly fall for this American newcomer. She effortlessly befriends a socialite with a wine business and a family estate, as well as a daughter of a hidden Chinese billionaire who has fallen to Paris, and they become best friends. Emily flirts between men and women, enjoying herself without getting caught up, and ends up sleeping with the socialite's brother (helping him lose his virginity, and he, like a bewitched fool, falls for Emily), the young chef, and the financial whiz. After each encounter, she leaves with a flick of her hair, confidently walking away, living a fabulous life on her own.

As the primary supporting character, Emily’s boss Sylvie left her husband in the small town and moved to Paris to develop her own career, becoming the queen of an advertising agency. She sleeps with clients and photographers, and yet, her husband still loves her hopelessly. In the last episode of season 2, she takes a large sum of money from a restaurant they jointly own. Her husband, flying in from afar, wants to have breakfast with her, but when he arrives, he’s greeted by Sylvie’s new lover, a young photographer, in nothing but his underwear. The poor husband, completely composed, turns around and heads to a café, handing over a suitcase of money and gently asking, “Are you going to divorce me now?” Sylvie casually replies, “Don’t be silly, we’re not getting divorced, why would we?” Her husband sighs in relief, content, and heads to catch his next flight.

These scenarios are the types traditionally seen in films where men are the object of admiration (every woman, regardless of wealth or appearance, hopelessly falls for him, and the relationship becomes all-consuming). But in this series, all these tropes are reversed and placed on women. It’s a satisfying, empowering twist.

Racial equality and gender equality are increasingly important in the cultural industry, but unfortunately, many films and shows just pander to these ideals with superficial gestures. Emily in Paris does it naturally. Not only do women take on the traditional male fantasy roles, but there are also several natural LGBTQ+ stories. One of Emily's colleagues is gay, and her boss has an affair with both a client and a photographer. These stories unfold in the fashion world, advertising, and the clothing design industry, and they feel completely natural, authentic, and unforced.

The casting is impeccable. Emily is lively, charming, and clever. Sylvie exudes the irresistible charm of a mature woman. The French colleagues and American bosses are also fantastic. One of the characters that left a deep impression on me is Luc, an old-fashioned French man. On Emily’s birthday, he takes her for a picnic in a cemetery. He says, “I love Balzac's graveyard. I like thinking about life in front of his tombstone.” Luc also takes Emily to see Zhou Fu’s "Zhu and Zhan" (The Zhu and Zhan is a reference to A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man ). What’s even more delightful is that this episode specifically parodies the scene where the characters read letters in the film ( Emily says to Luc, "I thought it was a ghost...") . This parody is so well done; the inside and outside of the story blend seamlessly, like a mischievous child’s prank. You won’t feel that Emily’s lack of understanding of Zhou Fu is offensive or shallow.

When I first watched season 1, episode 1, I already noticed it was filled with the tired clichés of cultural stereotypes (such as how people look down on you behind your back, or how French people openly look down on you). But as the show progressed, it didn’t feel outdated. The screen was filled with handsome men and beautiful women, all with abs, impeccable clothes, elegant manners, and they often gazed at Emily with loving admiration as she talked endlessly (this is also a typical image of men in the past—talking at the dinner table while beautiful women admire them across from them). The women, on the other hand, are free-spirited (in season 2, Camille has gained a little weight but still looks charming), treating men as insignificant, valuing friendships above all. For the sake of sisterhood, men don't matter at all. Perhaps this delightful reversal is the most attractive part of the show, and I can't wait for season 3.

Episode 1 The camera crawls through the dark abyss, eventually revealing us inside the hollow of a baguette.

Episode 2 Emily tries to date two men at once: Mathieu, a struggling artist, and Roman, a demon inhabiting a human body. After receiving free tickets to Disneyland Paris, Emily must decide which man to take with her. Who will she choose? The artist or the demon who survives off human souls?

Episode 3 Emily struggles to order a chocolate croissant at the bakery. When she points and says, “No, I want that one,” the clerk seems to misunderstand, and she demands to speak with the manager. Unfortunately, the manager is a stoic giant, belonging neither to this world nor this dimension. What terrifies Emily is that this giant doesn’t even speak English!

Episode 4 Emily faces a challenge when she must convince a marketing client (played by Monica Bellucci) to believe in her American perspective on French culture. After repeatedly using the word "content," a bare light bulb in the office begins to flicker, and eerie saxophone music plays. Monica Bellucci turns to Emily and mysteriously whispers, “We live in a dream within a dream.” Emily likes the slogan but feels it still needs a fresh, American perspective.

Episode 5 Emily gets a reservation at a legendary Parisian restaurant. But when she orders a well-done steak, a disastrous event unfolds. The terrified waiter asks her to reconsider, but Emily refuses, insisting that the customer is always right and that the steak should be as tough as a platinum bag. Suddenly, the restaurant goes pitch black. The waiter’s face disappears, replaced by a bright white light (played by Kyle MacLachlan), and flames shoot out, scorching Emily's table. She leaves a one-star review on Yelp.

Episodes 6 & 7 Emily is trapped in an alternate dimension and must find a way to navigate it without a SIM card.

Episode 8 Emily finally escapes the alternate dimension and returns to Paris, only to find that her previous actions have catastrophically altered reality. Everyone on the streets is speaking English. Tatar steak is now illegal. The Eiffel Tower has turned into a vending kiosk offering free Wi-Fi. Emily now has a doppelgänger named Cecilie. Even worse, Emily’s doppelgänger can actually wear a beret.

Episode 9 Emily's Uber drives down a dual-lane highway. The scene is dark, desolate, and filled with an overwhelming sense of fear. The car’s headlights illuminate a figure on the road... It’s Mickey Mouse, welcoming Emily to Disneyland Paris! She and her date, Roman (the "demon man"), eagerly anticipate a romantic day—at least until Roman’s human shell expires and his organs dissolve into toxic liquid.

Episode 10 In the season finale, we discover that Emily has been dreaming the whole time, and her soul is actually trapped inside a baguette.

I watched a lot of Season 2, and here's a general PR perspective:

1. Emily's job involves everything from planning, pitching, execution, and follow-ups, while managing multiple clients at once. For example, the media list for a restaurant opening needs to be approved by Sylvie. If you’ve worked in PR, you know how much workload this actually involves [smile]. But she still somehow manages to never work overtime, focusing on dating and restaurant tastings...

2. Shooting social media TVCs and promotional photos directly from an iPhone? The photographers don’t properly take PR shots and end up only shooting pictures of the female boss, yet they still continue to work on the biggest client’s events...

3. Every PR idea in the show is about user-generated content (UGC) sharing on social media, and offline events are typically all wrapped up with a Seine River cruise. Then the clients are all praising it, saying, “Brilliant idea!” As a PR professional, I really wish work in real life could be this easy...

Summary: PR is tough and exhausting, but from these TV shows, people get the impression that PR work is easy and carefree.

The second season starts off with a shock from our star kid’s skin—those dry wrinkles... Her legs are beautiful, but her back is another story. Not only does she lack a butterfly bone, but she’s also scrawny. Her fashion continues the nouveau riche style from season one. Compared to Sylvie... well, it’s like comparing the Pompidou Center to the Louvre—different strokes for different folks. Sylvie, on the other hand, has ditched the black and gray tones from last season and embraced bright colors like red and green. Maybe it’s the youthful influence from her younger boyfriend, but it’s still limited to solid colors. “My son will be having me”—her confidence is off the charts.

Off-screen, Pierre Cardin bought the Maxime restaurant just before it was about to go bankrupt, and in the show, Gabriel gets the funding to open his restaurant. Dupree steals the limelight, but what’s similar is that Pierre Cardin has fallen into the trap of living off brand licensing. By the time season two was being filmed, it seems the old man had already passed. I’m not a professional, so I don’t really get the implications.

In the final episode, Sylvie walking away with all her staff to start her own business is just so badass! Her little black dress with a white scarf at the show was totally Chanel-worthy—this is what high fashion looks like. I don’t get why she alternates between short skirts and a fur coat, but based on my limited knowledge of Paris as a tourist, the weather can change quickly, and the temperature difference is no joke.

Since the show is called Emily in Paris , Emily should continue to stay in Paris. Whether she accepts Sylvie’s offer depends on Sylvie’s schedule... Emily has the ability to go solo, and she can still use “I’m just a tourist in Paris” as an excuse to continue her flirtation and torment with the handsome chef. Although she once planned a long-distance relationship with her ex in Chicago, with Alfie going back to London, the current Emily might find it’s a case of too little, too late... Poor Camille—who knows what advice her mom gave her, but based on her “Champagne King” dad, she’s probably quietly supporting Gabriel’s career until her rival returns to her country. If Camille finds out Emily’s not leaving Paris, she’ll probably faint again.

It feels like this show isn’t really for men. The whole sauna steam scene with everyone half-naked—was that to cater to nonbinary folks? Camille might have gained weight since last season, but she clearly still looks young (the young 🐻, so cute!). Of course, the star kid wouldn’t be showing much skin... Gabriel has also bulked up since last season. His eyes still carry tenderness but without the shyness. It’s highly likely that Camille’s 17-year-old brother will continue to roll in the hay with Emily in the next season—he did say to look forward to it, after all.

Anyway, for a Mary Sue feel-good drama, don’t expect much logic or morals. Don’t demand more from this American show than you would from a K-drama—who needs a bike, right? No matter how Emily keeps playing her handsome neighbor, she’s always the one making the first move and kissing the male lead. She’s too proactive, way too proactive. I bet they’ll end up together in the end. As for our beloved Jia Ling, she might have a breakout role in the next season, riding her guitar player to the top of her career. Maybe season four will be Emily in Shanghai , where everyone happily promotes Camille’s champagne and other luxury goods while continuing to roll in the hay with some celebrity. Then, of course, Alfie will show up for a business meeting on an acquisition project. Well, let’s see how many subscriptions Netflix gets in East Asia...

I saw someone say this show is both terrible and impossible to stop watching, and I thought, “Isn’t that exactly how I feel?”

Recently, I tried watching That Summer but couldn’t get into it, whereas I finished this over-the-top American drama. How should I describe it? It’s like the feeling you get after eating a box of crispy pork belly—guilty, but damn, it was delicious (burp).

I came across this show because a blogger on Weibo mentioned Gossip Girl . As a ten-year fan of GG, I was naturally intrigued. From many angles, the two shows are quite similar—both are extremely mainstream, with quick transitions, high-concept but unrealistic dialogues, and a constant tangle of relationships between girlfriends and boyfriends. The Chinese characters always have those dark, slanted eyes. This indeed became my sort of substitute for GG.

But I have to admit, even compared to Gossip Girl , Emily is still too crass. It’s not just mediocre; it’s intolerably vulgar. Like a certain “tropical” brand, overly flamboyant and desperate to make you feel its presence, so much so that it’s annoying. It’s crass to the point of being obsequious, crass to the point of collapsing.

If the first season only hinted at this crassness, the second season just lays it all out for you. Chef Gabriel is set up as a charming Frenchman, who captivates both Camille, with her family estate, and Emily, who’s from the US. Especially in the scene between Gabriel and Emily, the sexual tension and the almost palpable rhythm had me thinking I was watching a French Chuck Bass.

But after two seasons, the only thing I remember is Gabriel’s butt. The scene is on my hard drive, but I can’t remember which part it was. Probably after he said goodbye to his ex in the art gallery and walked away alone, but instead of the artistic shot, all I remember is the man’s large, but not toned, butt.

At that moment, I confirmed the soul of this show:

An American butt pretending to be French.

This “style” is everywhere in the show. Whether it’s Sylvie talking about how the French don’t eat, just smoke, or Antoine’s perfume and sexy lingerie, or the dance show in the Louvre that could be mistaken for a bar performance—what’s supposed to be French romance doesn’t come across at all; instead, it feels vulgar. Of course, because this pretense is so obvious, one starts to suspect the producers aren’t ignorant of French culture but are purposely making fun of it. After all, Emily also touches on Brexit, doesn’t it?

Then there’s the new love interest, the Black guy, which really made me self-reflect: The writers aren’t doing this for satire—they seem to genuinely lack taste. Why else would a good-looking, well-built banker lose to a chef with a loose butt?

I checked out the banker’s Douban profile, and sure enough, some viewers said, “Choose the banker, he’s super sweet.” Hey, production team, open your eyes and look at the world, see what the audience wants.

It’s well known that the essence of French style isn’t about pretense, but about snobbery. Especially after revisiting two of Woody Allen’s films, I felt it even more deeply. There’s nothing more pretentious than discussing women with Hemingway and Fitzgerald. And if you need to explain why you want to return to the 1920s in the 21st century, don’t say it’s because you’re afraid your novels won’t be famous in Paris—say it’s for the antibiotics and sleeping pills.

For fashion, ladies should dress like Daisy from The Great Gatsby , or at least like in La La Land . For men, the more disheveled, the better—the key element is a mismatched suit.

And the essence of French style, what makes it French and not American, is a relaxed tightness. Midnight in Paris is a perfect example of this: Gil Pender and his literary idols are obviously uncomfortable together, but he dares to fight for a woman with Hemingway, discuss art with Gauguin—he’s the epitome of relaxed tightness.

For example, when Woody Allen in his film takes off his pants and shows his little old man’s shriveled butt, that’s a kind of nervy relaxation.

Emily has gone in the opposite direction, completely leaking a kind of overbearing tension. The colors have to be bold, the architecture old-fashioned, married women have to date younger men, and the cool British guy has to lose to someone who can’t even afford to open a corner shop. It’s just trying too hard.

Of course, I shouldn’t be comparing Emily to Woody Allen’s films—they’re simply not comparable. My comparison is just a subjective sense of proximity in terms of time. If I really have to compare, I’d say Reigniting the Spirit from 2014 was truly stunning—another urban short drama, simple and charming, but it didn’t get a second season. Good shows don’t get sequels, but Emily keeps getting repeated—no wonder people say Americans are like pigs who can’t appreciate the finer things and insist on a blunt approach.

You might ask, if it’s so crass, why did I give it three stars? Well, going back to the beginning, it’s probably because I haven’t yet fully experienced the guilt after the crispy pork belly, I still need time for that to hit. And it really is a great critique material— Emily deserves two stars, but I gave it one extra for the show’s ability to handle criticism.

After all, there aren’t many shows that can handle this much critique. Most shows are just one-dimensional in their flaws. This one’s at least complex in its failings.