Orchestra Seats

This is one of the wonders of Paris, I imagine, or at least of being rich in Paris: Even your misery plays like a fairy tale. In Avenue Montaigne, miserable souls are as common as raindrops, and each one is a portrait of privileged existentialism.

A film that seeks to amble it way towards resolution and which offers a few insights and smiles along the way.

The movie is as airy as a spun-sugar dessert, but Thompson's observations on the artistic life are both affectionate and knowing: Beauty and wealth, though inevitably compelling, are appreciated as means to humane ends, not goals in themselves.

Watching the charming Avenue Montaigne makes you realize not only how much we miss when mainstream French films are not on the movie menu, but how much we miss when American studios define 'romantic comedy' so strictly.

Avenue Montaigne is a bon-bon for culture tourists.

Thompson's crowd-pleaser makes up in refined schmaltz what it lacks in innovation or profundity.

Thompson's simplistic argument about wealth and poverty doesn't exactly inspire strong emotions, despite some well-crafted filmmaking and an urban prettiness reminiscent of Woody Allen's honey-dripping Manhattan locales.

Because the movie -- bright as a postcard and flooded with music ranging from richest Beethoven to bittersweet ballads -- is enchanting at its core, the creaky plot doesn't matter that much.

There is a complicated centre to this confection, but the magic that is Paris comes wafting through like sweet perfume.

If you think about it, you'll realize how flimsy-and even lazy-it is; if not, you'll likely give in to its airy charms.