You know those shitty slapstick movies that still manage to put a smile on your face? The Wrong Paris is exactly that kind of movie. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, and honestly, neither should you when you watch it.
Yes, it’s low budget. Yes, it feels like a mash-up of The Bachelor and a Hallmark Christmas special without the snow. But it also knows what it is a harmless, slightly ridiculous rom-com that doesn’t try to be more than light entertainment and in that sense, it actually succeeds.
The premise is delightfully absurd. Dawn (Miranda Cosgrove) is a small-town girl with a big dream: going to art school in Paris. But between caring for her grandmother and paying medical bills, her Paris fund has been drained. So instead, she signs up for a reality dating show called The Honey Pot. The catch? She’s not looking for love. She just wants the quick appearance money and a plane ticket to Paris, France. Except plot twist the show isn’t set in Paris, France. It’s in Paris, Texas. Cue the chaos.
Then there’s the bachelor himself, Trey McAllen III (Pierson Fode). As fate would have it, Dawn actually had a brief encounter with him at a local bar before filming began. This little backstory gives their interactions a playful tension he remembers her, she remembers him, and neither of them can quite pretend it didn’t happen.
There’s a spark between him and Dawn that feels surprisingly genuine, and that small detail makes the whole thing watchable. Their awkward innocent chemistry gives the movie a warmth I wasn’t expecting.
Sure, the script isn’t groundbreaking. Some of the jokes miss, and the melodrama occasionally leans too hard into cliché. But then, out of nowhere, a scene will land a moment so funny or unexpectedly tender that you forget all the flaws. The cinematography also deserves a nod. For a film shot in “the wrong Paris,” it makes Texas look downright romantic, especially in a scene in a wooded area by the water where the two leads finally let their guards down.
What really sealed it for me, though, was the ending. Not the predictable romantic climax (you’ll see it coming a mile away), but the credits. Two full minutes of bloopers cast members breaking, flubbed lines, crew laughter and it leaves you grinning as the screen fades out. It’s the kind of touch that says: we had fun making this, and we hope you had fun watching it.
I can’t pinpoint exactly why I loved this film. Maybe it’s because it never pretended to be anything more than a quirky distraction. Sometimes, that’s all you need.