Cinema of Love

The Kiss The chicken-or-the-egg dilemma of Paris is what I will call the cinema of love dilemma. That is to say, what came first: Paris as the “city of love” or French cinema? Did the conception of Paris as the city of love exist as a cliché before the film industry began consistently representing it as such? Or did the birth of cinema in France give way to the stereotype of Paris as the hub for all things romance?

Regardless of how Paris’ “city of love” label was first applied, it is indisputably evident that the consistent filmic representation of Paris as a city meant for finding, losing, or rekindling romance has projected the “city of love” fantasy about Paris to the rest of the world. In “Representations of Western Tourism in Cinema”, Tara Kolton argues, “…the virtual nature of cinematic images enhances our expectations and fantasies of actual places.” The simulated realities of setting-driven films serve to deepen and reinforce our perceptions of a place, even before we make a trip there. Thus, to the collective tourist imagination, Paris’ city of love myth is irrevocably linked to the plethora of relevant films, from the epic classics of Les Enfants de Paradis (1945) and Jules et Jim (1962), to modern-day representations such as Paris Je T’Aime (2006) and Les Chansons d’Amour (2007).

What the romance-seeking tourist, or the honeymooning couple discovers once they arrive in the mythical city of love has been the subject of several films that deal with the visitor’s experience in the world’s capital of L’Amour. In 1965, during the height of the French “New Wave” film era, a group of six directors put together Paris Vu Par, a series of six vignettes about life and love in Paris. The film is largely a piece about the demythification of Paris and each scene takes a turn at deconstructing fantasies about the city; portraying the cold sterility of a French bourgeois husband and wife, deglamorizing the fetishization of the French prostitute, or showing the frustrations of an unhappily married couple on the verge of a breakup against the backdrop of a city that is losing its architectural unity.

Throughout these scenes, the theme of Paris as a ville pourrie, a rotting city, is examined, hinting at the loss of dominance in French culture and the failure of Paris to live up to its fantastical promises.

The first scene of the film, St. Germain des Près, directed by Jean Douchet, features a young American girl living in Paris to study art. Taken by notions of French romance and the “city of love”, she (uncharacteristically, adds the narrator) decides to go home with a man she has just met, a nod at the French myth of le coup de foudre, love at first sight. Setting the tone for the rest of the film, the scene ends with the girl’s discovery of her lover’s misrepresentation of himself, and her disillusionment with French romance. The narrator reminds his viewers that the quartier “is not a place for young American girls.”

In the case of the foreign naïveté of Douchet’s young American protagonist, the girl’s experiences in Paris were influenced by her preconceived ideas about Paris as a city of love, showing that the traveler’s expectations affect his experiences once he arrives. The visitor feels some kind of pressure to experience the city as it is “supposed” to be experienced: “If Paris is a romantic place, I should be experiencing romance…”

In Julie Delpi’s 2 Days in Paris, a couple comes to Paris for a romantic weekend and finds themselves unable to stop their constant bickering. Julie Delpy’s character nags her boyfriend throughout the film, “Can we please stop fighting? We’re in Paris.” She uses the phrase “we’re in Paris” as if Paris is synonymous with harmony and romantic bliss, as if the city were a sanctuary for couples, where all problems are put on hold until the couple steps foot off of Parisian soil.

However, despite an abundance of films that may serve to demythify Paris, the fantasies of Paris in cinematic form return, contending that perhaps the fiction is stronger and more captivating than the reality. Jeunet’s internationally acclaimed Amélie (2001), constructs an idealized version of life in Paris’ Montmartre quarter, and returns the current tourist enclave back to visions of its quaint, enchanting former state. The international success of this film suggests the global appeal of a story that revisits “old” Paris in its romanticized form, complete with quiet and carless streets, an impeccable aesthetic, caricaturized neighborhood personalities, and of course, a love story with a happy ending.

Paris Je T’Aime, the 21st century’s response to Paris Vu Par, reaffirms Paris’ regard as a city for lovers. Largely directed by foreign (that is to say non-French) filmmakers, the film’s 18 eclectic vignettes demonstrate that Paris still holds its status as the city of love in the eyes of the rest of the world. In a number of scenes, visitors come to Paris and find love, whether they are looking for it or not. Nathalie Portman and Maggie Gyllenhaal’s characters both come to Paris as American actresses on the job, and each is confronted with the possibility of romance. Showcasing a fantasy of Paris’ mystical forces, Wes Craven’s vacationing couple ends their bickering thanks to a chance encounter with the ghost of Oscar Wilde in Père Lachaise cemetery, while Elijah Wood, playing a lost backpacker, falls in love with a vampiress on a dark night.

As with Amélie, the success of this film suggests that tourist imagination wants to continue to participate in the myth of Paris, the city for lovers. Although several captivating films have been made to deconstruct the myth, and to show Paris as a city just like any other, the myth returns in cinematic form, suggesting that perhaps a simple fantasy is stronger than a multi-faceted reality.