It’s taken five seasons but, finally, someone has seen that the emperor has no clothes. And, by that, I mean that Emily in Paris is very bad at her job. For years, we’ve had to watch conference rooms full of deluded French people stand up and clap because marketing executive Emily Cooper (Lily Collins), dressed in some hideous pattern-clash two-piece, came up with the idea of snapping a picture of a crêpe and captioning it “#OhCrepe” on Instagram. And it’s all because she can deliver a pitch with the winning smile of a toothpaste model.
But, no more! Common sense has prevailed. In season five of Netflix’s junk crown jewel, Emily is shooed out of a meeting with Fendi for proposing that they deliberately manufacture a “fake” purse, while perfumer Antoine Lambert (William Abadie) immediately quits Zoom after she suggests they invent a new holiday, “Babies Day”, to hock fragrances for infants. “I’m losing my touch,” she despairs, in the flabbergasted tone of someone who’s never suffered a day in their life.
Yet, there’s no tangible difference in the show between what is considered a “good” idea and what is considered a “bad” idea, not when her later return to form includes a L’Oréal ad that’s reminiscent of those abysmally clunky fake Covergirl spots they’d shoot on America’s Next Top Model. In another scene, she slathers her hand in hamburger juice to attract a famous designer’s Weimaraner. This, we are meant to think, is the work of a genius.
Certainly, Emily in Paris has always existed in its own, circular dimension. While I wrote last season that the engine was starting to run out of fuel here, season five practically has its characters chasing their own tails for nine straight episodes. We were meant to be revelling in Emily in Rome, since she absconded from France with her new love interest, Marcello (Eugenio Franceschini), heir to a cashmere empire.
But, far from a fresh start, suddenly her entire address book has rocked up, including boss Sylvie (Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu), colleagues Julien (Samuel Arnold) and Luc (Bruno Gouery), BFF Mindy (Ashley Park), and former (current?) love interests Gabriel (Lucas Bravo) and Alfie (Lucien Laviscount). No one seems to really care that they’ve left the main Paris office of Sylvie’s company largely abandoned.
So, really, this is only a superficial change of scenery: from Rococo palaces to Roman ruins, coq au vin to pasta pescatore. Emily in Paris has one move now, and it’s to introduce its women to hot, new men—we even get an American this season (Bryan Greenberg), an embassy worker who leads her down into a basement filled with snacks oozing with chemical additives as Party in the USA plays.
Historically, the series has always been at its most fun when it indulged in its own outrageousness. But Emily is at this point relatively well-adjusted within European high society. Her time in Italy is notably absent of major cultural faux pas. Even the outfits feel tame. What passes for silly this season is Mindy auditioning for an animated remake of Moulin Rouge! titled Moulin Rat!
There’s a lot the series could do to dive into the internal politics of the luxury brand scene. Clearly, its writers are knowledgeable enough to consistently pepper in nods to specific hot topics, like the fact celebrities are increasingly being fast-tracked into creative director positions. But, no—it’s better apparently to simply force us to listen to Emily deliver the worst pitches you’ve heard in your life.
