While detesting it, I’d probably look at Emily in Paris even if I didn’t have to write it. As I have already written in the past, despite having found the first season in its brilliant way, in its deep frivolity and superficiality, from season two onwards was a crescendo of mixed apathy to annoy.
The arrival of the series in Italy has helped to flatten even more plot, characters and narrative dynamics, because of an ever less realistic and increasingly stereotypical postcard scenography.
Emily in Paris, perché la guardiamo?
In these years I have often wondered why I kept looking at it, talking about it and, at the bottom, waiting even for the release of the new episodes, so much to ask them in preview – something I don’t always do (I don’t have the FOMO that have many of my colleagues).
Asking me why many others and I have so much curiosity about Emily, I’ve come to a couple of conclusions that seem pretty close to me. Recurring in this case at the “guilty pleasure” would be too simple: a guilty pleasure, of course, look with pleasure, with affection. Emily’s not.
Because his ability to trivialize everything is not by everyone.
Yet, as something reassuring, Emily in Paris goes beyond ridiculous outfits, discounted and simple jokes, paradoxical marketing findings and the continuous sponsorship of international brands.
Cr. Giulia Parmigiani/Netflix © 2025
Combatte la streaming fatigue
Emily in Paris applauds for a few hours the streaming fatigue that, especially for those who like me try to defeat her looking and analyzing series to find the best to recommend to others, it becomes more aggressive.
For those who do not know, the “streaming fatigue” (or tiredness from streaming) is the feeling of overload, frustration and exhaustion that viewers experience in the face of excess platforms, subscription services, endless choices of content and monthly costs that accumulate, often leading us to feel overwhelmed rather than entertained.
Here: to know that, for the duration of ten episodes (about five hours), I can put on stand by the brain and look at something predictable, obvious, obvious, discounted — though full of twists and plot twist — is somehow reassuring.
And even if I get nervous, I’m willing to compromise for a few hours to rest my brain. We mean: practical mindfulness, meditation, replenishment to DIY and other hobbies, not only live on TV and TV series. I’m talking this way about the context in which I’m writing, clearly.
Emily in Paris…come un film di Natale
What happens in Emily in Paris is reassuring, as in Christmas films, as in the infinite rewatching of a series of heart.
Knowing what you expect is relaxing: Emily tells a simple life, devoid of all the unknown and the complexity of ordinary existence. Face adult themes so easy to help us put things in perspective and lead us to think that in the end every problem has a solution.
And that even if it isn’t, for those five hours we want to believe it.
There is then a component of escapism and visual happiness that would naively ignore. Emily in Paris is a kind of happy smoothie of beautiful pictures: Paris always perfect, fashion, food, unreal romantic situations, a life that seems to flow without real friction.
Critics also recognize that the series, although not realistic, offers a bright, playful and visually pleasing vision, which works precisely because it does not claim to adhere to reality. It is a television postcard from an ideal city.
That’s why we keep looking at her: not because we seek depth or truth, but because, occasionally, we need a small temporary dream world in which to take refuge, without asking too many questions.
So no, Emily, not even this season convinced me, but at least after all these years I realized why I don’t stop looking and detest you, but also, in the end, want you a little good. You are a temporary shelter, and sometimes, especially in difficult times, even imperfect shelters serve.
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