Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris Is a Chic and Charming Underdog Tale

Ada Harris (Lesley Manville) has never asked for anything. A hardworking cleaning woman in 1950s London, she spends her days cleaning up other peoples’ messes with an indestructible smile on her face, reliably spreading positivity everywhere she goes. But when she discovers the magic of Dior in the form of an employers’ dress, she realizes that it’s finally time for her to treat herself. Ada becomes dead-set on acquiring the hefty funds required to visit Dior’s luxurious Paris headquarters, using her British cunning and persevering through a number of faux pas and social blunders along the way. Mrs. Harris does indeed end up making it to Paris (thanks for the spoiler, movie title) and while there, she unsurprisingly butts up against an abundance of trials and tribulations as she pursues the dress of her dreams.

Directed by Anthony Fabian and written by Fabian, Carroll Cartwright, Leigh Thompson and Olivia Hetreed, Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris masterfully achieves every note essential in a captivating underdog story. A lot of the film’s tonal success has to do with Manville, who was cleverly cast as the inverse of her character in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Phantom Thread, where she played the stony, business-savvy sister of a distinguished 1950s fashion designer. In Harris, Manville plays the optimistic, inexperienced Ada with a perfect mix of coarse humor and clumsy mannerisms, alongside subtle yet powerful glints of empathy and sophistication. This level of nuance quickly prevents the character from being subjected to “lower-class woman in over her head” cliches, which could have pushed Harris into the unfavorable realm of the unrelatable broad comedy. But Ada is relatable. She is kind; she sees the good in people and the beauty in beautiful things. We can’t help but root for her from the outset.

Manville’s compassionate performance is bolstered by Fabian’s detail-oriented and textured storytelling. When Ada finally makes it to Paris, we see the city as she does: In sweeping widescreen, blushing with pastel colors, with rain-covered streets sparkling like dazzling disco balls. This tone of wonderment seeps into the House of Dior, too, especially permeating Harris’s greatest scene, the Dior fashion show.

Accompanied by Rael Jones’ dreamy, romantic piano score, the pageant forces even the fashion cynic to watch with bated breath. Each dress is more spectacular than the last, and Fabian, with the help of cinematographer Felix Wiedermann, makes sure to exhibit every ravishing detail. Silk flutters when its model moves. Satin breathes with a life of its own in close-ups. And when Ada’s favorite dress appears, Fabian switches to a birds-eye angle and showcases it in a kaleidoscopic view, as if we have transitioned into some heavenly daydream.