This collaborative amalgamation of 18 short stories (each by a different director) do not compile to deliver a universal message, but rather each one delivering perhaps its own unique interpretation of what love is. Or maybe what Paris is. Or in a few segments, what love in Paris is. And in a few other segments, what loving Paris is. No it is never quite made clear whether this is more of a celebration of the city of love, or the celebration of a love of the city. Perhaps both, but each unique segment has its own way of explaining that. Whether it is Gus Van Sant's typically arty-realist segment about a Frenchman enchanted by the arrival of a British art student, and explaining his fascination to him in a way that the young man will probably never realise. Or Vincenzo Natali's ultra-stylised Gothic fantasy about Elijah Wood being sexually ravaged by a werewolf. Each transition is instantly recognisable through the directorial style that flourishes it. One of the best segments, by the Coen bros, involves nothing but non-translated French dialogue, and a masterfully comic performance from Steve Buscemi who proves that great acting can be achieved without uttering a word. At times the segments vary in tone from each other so much, it almost becomes a frustrating experience. Moving from fantasy to mime, to socio-realist cinema all in the space of two hours is nothing if not testing. And the film itself over-stretches its running time. But even if at times it resembles a glorified travel log, Paris Je T'aime did prove a mostly compelling diversion into the varied lives of so many different souls. More importantly, it managed to convince me that Paris is a genuinely lovely place. Something I have contradicted for years.