There’s nothing remotely original about the plot of Netflix’s new romantic comedy French Lover. A self-absorbed movie star meets a down-on-her-luck “ordinary” woman who teaches him the true meaning of life.
Yes, it’s exactly as corny as it sounds. But while you’d expect that French sensibility — usually more nuanced and melancholy than Hollywood’s glossy take on love — combined with the charm of national favourite Omar Sy, might elevate the material, unfortunately, it doesn’t.
The story follows a jaded actor Abel Camara (Omar Sy) who meets struggling waitress Marion (Sara Giraudeau) one afternoon in Paris. Their unexpected love story begins by chance, but the question quickly becomes whether it can survive the glare of the spotlight.
Sara Giraudeau and Omar Sy in French Lover. (Photos courtesy of Netflix)
Sara Giraudeau and Omar Sy in French Lover. (Photos courtesy of Netflix)
When it comes to a familiar premise like this, I always look for something that rises above mediocrity — something fresh, something that showcases real chemistry between characters, and ideally, a touch of fairy-tale warmth. Not that every love story needs a perfect ending, but it helps if the journey feels worthwhile. Unfortunately, the deeper I went into French Lover, the less hope I had that this movie would deliver anything memorable.
Abel and Marion’s worlds couldn’t be more different. He’s a pampered movie star; she’s a chef trying to rebuild her life. But what initially makes their pairing slightly more interesting than expected is Marion’s refusal to be dazzled by celebrity. When they first meet, their exchange is sharp and funny, showing that Marion sees people for who they are — not for the image they project. For a brief moment, I thought the film might actually have something to say about authenticity and humility.
The two do share moments of light-hearted chemistry. Abel, though self-absorbed and arrogant, remains somewhat likable, and I found myself waiting for his character growth to take root. The problem is that it never quite does.
His supposed transformation feels rushed and unconvincing, shown mostly through a predictable time-shift montage meant to depict disappointment, regret and self-reflection. Meanwhile, Marion is portrayed as gentle and soft-spoken yet fiery when provoked — a woman who speaks her mind and refuses to tolerate nonsense. She’s a refreshing counterpoint to Abel’s vanity, but her character, too, is underwritten.
Naturally, a story like this needs tension, and we all know how romantic comedies operate: everything starts out like rainbows and butterflies until reality sets in. The clash between Abel and Marion is predictable, and while the emotions aren’t overblown for drama’s sake, the conflict arrives so suddenly that it feels forced. And it drags on way, way longer than expected, turning what could have been a sharp, funny story about opposites attracting into a slow, overly sentimental slog.
There’s potential for wit, charm, and emotional resonance here, but French Lover continually misses the mark. The main problem lies in its shallow character development. Abel is supposed to be a man who rose from nothing to fame, but the film reduces him to a spoiled rich kid throwing tantrums. There’s little sense of the complex man beneath the celebrity surface.
It’s a shame, because Sy has the charisma and emotional intelligence to deliver something deeper. Sara Giraudeau, in the first performance I’ve seen from her, also fails to leave a strong impression. Even the cooking scenes — meant to showcase her passion for starting a food truck — fall flat, lacking both energy and sensuality.
And then there’s the bizarre missing-dog subplot, which is stretched far beyond its narrative weight. Yes, people love their pets, but here it’s treated as though it’s a metaphor for human loss or emotional healing, when in reality it just distracts from the story.
The entire film has the feel of a second-rate romantic drama: clumsy editing, predictable setups, and awkwardly staged scenes. One example is the birthday party sequence in which Abel tries to impress his new girlfriend — it’s so poorly executed it borders on cringe comedy.
The runtime doesn’t help either. At just over two hours, French Lover feels unnecessarily long. The extended courtship and drawn-out conflict scenes add little substance, and several moments that could have been cut entirely would have tightened the pacing. The film sometimes hints at small bursts of tension or humour, but these moments are inconsequential, failing to affect the story’s outcome in any meaningful way.
There’s a whole early segment focused on Abel’s pre-Marion life — his fame, his ego, his hollow existence — that drags on far too long. It’s meant to give context, but it ends up padding the film instead of enriching it. The story would play out identically without it. Later scenes also linger past their natural endpoint, dwelling on moments that could have been trimmed without losing emotional impact. Occasionally there’s humour, but it often overstays its welcome or fizzles out before it lands.
Marion’s sister and brother-in-law provide some comic relief, especially in their scenes gossiping about Abel, but just as the humour begins to spark, the film pulls away, deflating the energy. It’s as though the director is afraid to let a joke breathe. What could have been sharp, witty banter turns into another missed opportunity.
Still, I can’t deny that there are a few enjoyable interactions between the leads. Despite the predictable storyline, some of their exchanges feel genuine, their dynamic fresh enough to hold attention. This isn’t the cutesy, polished kind of romance you often see in Hollywood romcoms. There are tender, grounded moments that almost make you root for them. But overall, their love story never fully grabs me — it just drifts by, pleasant but hollow.
In the end, French Lover offers mild entertainment value, but it’s hardly a film I’d revisit. If you’re in the mood for something light, easy and utterly forgettable — a no-brainer way to fill two hours — it might suffice.
French Lover
Starring Omar Sy, Sara Giraudeau, Alban Ivanov
Directed by Lisa-Nina Rives
Now streaming on Netflix