I’m going to Paris for three weeks this summer to attend the American University of Paris for a creative nonfiction writing course. To revive my long-dormant French, and to get myself in the mood for strolling along the Seine with a baguette in one hand and a notebook in the other, I’ve been watching movies about the City of Light.

That’s how I ended up discovering Paris, Je T’Aime (2007, Rated R, 2 hours), a cinematic treasure I found on DVD in a thrift store. Honestly, thrift stores are like archaeological digs for movie lovers. Somewhere between abandoned bread makers and VHS workout tapes lies gold.

This film is a collection of short, five-minute stories directed by different filmmakers, each centered in a different Paris neighborhood. Together, the vignettes create a patchwork love letter to Paris. Not all the stories are romantic in the traditional sense. Some are funny, some melancholy, some surreal, and several unexpectedly brush up against death and grief.

Naturally, those were the ones that caught my attention.

Love and Death in Paris

One memorable segment takes place in the Quartier de la Madeleine, where Elijah Wood encounters a beautiful female vampire. Because apparently in Paris, even the undead are chic and seductive.

Another poignant scene unfolds in Place des Fêtes, where a female EMT works desperately to save a dying man. In the middle of tragedy, she realizes the importance of accepting a simple invitation to share a cup of coffee. Paris has a way of making even caffeine existential.

But three segments especially stayed with me.

Pere-Lachaise Cemetery: Oscar Wilde as Relationship Counselor

In the Père-Lachaise Cemetery vignette, a newly engaged couple argues over whether laughter matters in a relationship. (Spoiler alert: yes. Absolutely yes.)

The argument escalates among the tombstones until Oscar Wilde himself appears in spectral form to nudge them toward reconciliation. Because if anyone is qualified to defend wit and humor, it’s Oscar Wilde.

Directed by horror master Wes Craven, the segment is oddly sweet, funny, and just a little ghostly.

There’s something fitting about relationship advice arriving in a cemetery. Love and mortality have always been dance partners. Cemeteries remind us that life is short, and taking ourselves too seriously is a terrible waste of time.

Grief at Place des Victoires

The most emotionally powerful vignette for me was directed by Nobuhiro Suwa and stars Juliette Binoche as a grieving mother mourning the death of her young son, Justin, who loved cowboys.

As she sits overwhelmed by sorrow, a cowboy, played by Willem Dafoe, magically appears riding a horse through rain washed streets. Through this strange visitation, she’s granted one final chance to see her child.

It’s tender, dreamlike, and devastating in the quietest way.

The segment captures something many grieving parents describe: the aching wish for one more moment. One more hug. One more conversation. One more chance to say what was left unsaid.

Fantasy becomes a language for grief here. And honestly, grief often does feel surreal, as though the world has slipped slightly off its axis.

Steve Buscemi vs. Parisian Eye Contact

Then there’s the Coen Brothers’ delightfully awkward Metro segment at the Tuileries station.

Steve Buscemi plays an American tourist consulting a travel guide that specifically warns: “Don’t make eye contact.”

Naturally, he immediately makes eye contact.

Chaos ensues.

No death in this one, unless you count the death of personal dignity while trapped in an international misunderstanding.

As someone preparing to spend time in Paris, I found this hilariously reassuring. Cultural mistakes are inevitable. The trick is surviving them with your sense of humor intact.

A Love Letter to Paris and Humanity

What makes Paris, Je T’Aime special is that the city itself becomes more than a backdrop. Paris acts almost like a living character, shaping these encounters with love, longing, humor, mortality, loneliness, and hope.

The film suggests that every passerby may be carrying an entire universe of joy or sorrow. One street corner contains heartbreak. Another contains magic. Another contains Steve Buscemi trying very hard not to offend anybody.

Honestly, that feels true of life in general.

Watching these stories before my own trip has reminded me that travel isn’t just about seeing famous places. It’s about becoming temporarily open to surprise, to beauty, discomfort, connection, grief, laughter, and maybe even a ghostly Oscar Wilde cameo if you’re lucky.

And now I really want to wander through Père-Lachaise Cemetery with a notebook and see what stories find me there.

Gail Rubin is the author of 98.6 Mortality Movies to See Before You Die and other books on end-of-life issues.

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