Julie Delpy, 2 Days in Paris

by Kathryn Durfee
11/15/2007

My boss once told me that there are two tests to determine whether or not a relationship will last: paint or wallpaper a room together, and travel together. Julie Delpy's directorial debut 2 Days in Paris uses the second test to explore the highs and lows of long-term relationships.

Marion and Jack have been together for two years. On their way back to New York after a trip in Venice, they stop in Paris for a few days to visit Marion's family and see the city. Jack experiences extreme culture shock when forced to stay in Marion's studio apartment one floor above her parents' apartment. In addition to convincing himself that he is getting sick from Paris's filth, Jack grows increasingly paranoid when he and Marion continue to run into her ex-boyfriends. The two days of romance quickly become the unraveling of the relationship as Jack begins to wonder if he fits into Marion's life.

2 Days in Paris is a well-crafted debut film for Delpy. She is not only the director and star of the film, but also the writer, editor, co-producer and composer. Quite an impressive list for a woman in film. She also involved her family in the production by casting her real-life parents Marie Pillet and Albert Delpy, professional actors in their own right, as her on-screen parents Anna and Jeannot.

Pillet plays the typical mother. She is excited to have her daughter back at home, she has added ten pounds to Marion's cat while Marion has been away, and she is eager to do everyone's laundry. Likewise, Jeannot is a fairly generic father. He makes a traditional French lunch - le lapin (rabbit) - which repulses Jack, whom he proceeds to quiz on French literature during the meal. Whose dad hasn't given their child's significant other the third degree? Delpy puts a twist on Jeannot's character by making him the owner of an art gallery full of lewd drawings and paintings.

Both Delpy and Goldberg channel their inner Woody Allen here. Jack's fear of allergens and germs combined with his biting sarcasm make him the perfect neurotic; an Alvy Singer to Delpy's slightly-tougher Annie Hall. Unaccustomed to "how it's done" in France and constantly out of the loop because of the language barrier, Jack is often the odd man out. It does seem strange that despite the fact that he's been in a relationship with a French woman for two years, he speaks surprisingly little French.

He is a quirky character, clearly out of his element abroad. At first, he seems to be against the tacky American tourists in Paris, leading a pack of "code-breakers," Da Vinci Codes in hand, far from their desired location of the Louvre. However, he later asserts his patriotism at a party with Marion's friends by saying "I'm American. What's mine is mine." Similarly, he is covered in tattoos and seems to have no problem talking crassly about sex, but when Marion's mother shares a story of an affair from her youth, Jack judges her as if he was a prude.

As for Marion, Paris seems to bring out the worst in her. She is loud, angry, and politically outspoken. She yells at cab drivers, confronts ex-boyfriends in crowded restaurants and even turns on Jack. She seems lost herself, stranded between her life in Paris and her life in the U.S. The free spirited Marion seems such an unlikely match for the rigid interior designer Jack that it's difficult to believe that this relationship has lasted two years.

Daniel Bruhl (The Edukators, Goodbye Lenin!) makes a short appearance towards the end: Jack and Marion have gone their separate ways for the afternoon after a fight and Jack, longing desperately for an American cheeseburger, tries to get lunch at a fast-food restaurant. He is joined by Lukas, a young, sparkly-eyed man that calls himself a "fairy." Not a homosexual, but rather "like a real one." He might also be a terrorist, but oh well. When Jack later tells Marion of this encounter, he describes Lukas with probably one of the best lines in recent cinema: "He was a fairy... or a schizophrenic vegan."

Unlike early Woody Allen films that feature New York City as a prominent character, Delpy shows very different views of Paris. The concentration of the film is not on the touristy sites but is instead on this struggling couple that just happen to be in Paris. There are no postcard shots of the Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower, or quaint cafes.

Instead, Delpy incorporates scenes of the poor suburbs, the markets, and the river bank into her film. The shaky hand-held camera and tight close ups allow the audience to become actively engaged with the characters. Crammed into the small studio apartment, narrow hallways, and side streets, we are forced to become intimately familiar with Jack and Marion. We see the entirety of their two-day trip; we feel for the out-of-place American struggling to fit in, but we also identify with the young woman trying to bridge the gap between her two lives and share her home with the man she (thinks) she loves.

This quirky, original film is certainly not to be missed. With a sharp and witty script, Delpy proves that she is worth keeping an eye on. What could have been a charmless, predictable tale of romance in the City of Lights is in fact a very realistic look at serious relationships and the risks taken when giving your heart to someone else. Jack and Marion learn more about each other over these two days than they seem to have over the past two years. The couple discovers that you can't force relationships, and that no matter how much energy you expend trying to get to know someone, the case may be that they aren't someone you really want to know.