French Kiss (1995)

2 years ago

French Kiss (1995)

WHEN SOMEBODY TELLS ME THEY’RE HAPPY, MY ASS BEGINS TO TWITCH

by Chris Cantoni

When I first heard about Meg Ryan week, I immediately wanted to do You’ve Got Mail, since I dated a girl who counted it as her favorite for a very long time. Unfortunately, it was already taken before I heard about Meg Ryan week (ahem). Then I knew I had to do When Harry Met Sally…, because it is one of the best romantic comedies in history, but that rug was yanked out from under me by a Mr. Zero, and we all know you don’t fuck with Mr. Zero.

So French Kiss landed at my feet. Up until the other day, my familiarity with it came from a girl I knew this one time (like for a week) who, when it somehow came up in conversation (Meg Ryan often does), she demanded that I borrow it. I declined, citing the fact that she’d probably never get it back and I can’t even remember that girl’s face now, so, you know, case in point.

Anyway, we start out with Meg Ryan on a plane. Throughout the movie she’s dressed in that way any mom circa the 90s was dressing and doing it better than all of them. She’s got the short-but-not-too-short hair, the high pants, the sneakers. Basically, Meg Ryan was Ellen before Ellen, although who pulls it off better is certainly up for debate (in my opinion, both woman are goddesses of cute).

So Meg’s freaking out on this plane in the only way Meg Ryan can freak out (ie, adorably), and it turns out she’s NOT on a plane, not a real one, it’s only therapy so she can join her husband-to-be Timothy Hutton on a conference in Paris, only the therapy doesn’t work, he falls in love with a French woman and calls it quits with Meg.

Well, Meg will not stand for this! In desperation, thinking she can beg her way back into his arms (desperation is incredibly unattractive. Just ask any woman who’s ever dumped me), she forces herself onto a plane and but who should happen to sit next to her? None other than Kevin Kline.

I like Kevin Kline. Here’s why: Dave, Life as a House, and A Fish Called Wanda. I remember seeing A Fish Called Wanda and thinking Kline was just ripping off Steve Martin, and that irritated me to no end, but it’s a great flick, so he warmed his way into my heart. Here, he plays a stereotypical slick and smarmy Frenchman, the kind a woman would want to meet on her trip to Paris, have him feed her wine and make animalistic love to her the whole trip and then leave without a word so she could go back and have her “Paris story” to tell her girlfriends for the rest of her life.

Of course they don’t get along at all, because she’s stuck up and anal retentive and all too trapped in her secure life. He, on the other hand, is a rude liar who puts stolen goods in her bag. Oh, right. So he stole this valuable necklace so he can buy back his half of the vineyard he and his brother inherited that he lost when his brother got him drunk and played poker with him. Phew. Subplot contained.

Inevitably, Meg doesn’t realize she has the necklace, so Kevin ends up helping her get to Tim Hutton to win him back just so Kevin can get the necklace back. And throughout the journey the one thing Meg Ryan wanted to see in Paris, the Eiffel Tower, keeps barely eluding her.

Here’s the thing about Meg Ryan movies, the trick if you will: Meg Ryan is the cute. I don’t go to a movie to see her get naked or have courage under fire or anything. I sit down in that seat so I can watch Meg Ryan do what she do, which is cute. Tom Hanks knows this, and in their movies together, he never tries to steal away the attention. Sure, he has his goofy antics, but he knows the heart and the sincerity of that scene is her, so he lets her do that.

Kevin Kline sort of knows this, but sometimes it feels like he’s fighting for that attention in a scene, and it takes you out of it, because you’re sitting there trying to think about cuddling with Meg Ryan and then Kevin Kline is there with his mustache and his accent and you’re like, uh, Kevin, a little privacy?

Which might be part of the downfall of the film. Not downfall. It’s not like it’s a bad film. Certainly not. It’s just not a standout. As always happens in romantic comedies, Meg and Kevin sort of realize they love each other at different points and so she saves him from the cops (with her LIFE FREAKING SAVINGS?) and then he chases her down when she’s seated for the plane home.

But their falling in love, her getting over her ex (who, side note for the ladies, if a dude ever makes the “mistake” of falling in love over the weekend with some other woman and then realizes he was an idiot, fuck him, seriously, because that dude is bad news), and the two of them just sort of wanting to be together doesn’t feel real. I’m not sold on it.

We are never wrapped up in their story, or on the edge of our seats for them to just kiss already. It’s a nice movie, it’s a good date movie. It is not a classic RomCom to gush over in years hence. French Kiss steals plenty of things from France, so I will steal another: For all its joie de vivre, it lacks a certain je ne sais quoi, while I think about cuddling Meg Ryan instead.