If you'd like a look at Paris in all its splendour, look no further than Angel-A, a Luc Besson film about a grifter and an angel. Just be sure that in order to see Paris in all its splendour you don't mind sitting through a silly little comedy with a dopey ending.

Oh, these things happen.

Jamel Debbouze is Andre, a liar, a thief and a gormless con artist in Paris.

He's being pursued by a number of unpleasant men who'd like to break his legs. He has big debts, our Andre, and he can't pay them back. He's in a lot of trouble. In desperation he tries to get the police to keep him in jail overnight, but even they won't help him.

Andre decides to jump off a bridge. Looking up to the sky he asks, "Why did you abandon me?" and "Why do you never speak to me?" And at once he notices he's not the only potential suicide on the bridge. A tall, beautiful blond jumper goes into the water before him, and Andre jumps in to save her life.

And so she saves his. The blond is Angela (Rie Rasmussen), and Andre slowly catches on that she is an angel. She settles his debts, miraculously you might say, and helps him learn about loving himself and telling the truth and appreciating his own talents and good traits. (Maybe they don't have Dr. Phil in France?)

Angel-A is often delightful, mostly because of Debbouze's performance and comic timing.

And there are some nice moments around Angela's delight in all things human -- she loves to eat, and she chain-smokes. (When Andre complains that an angel shouldn't smoke, she snaps, "What the f--- do you care? I'm immortal.")

Shot in black and white, the film is a romantic fable meant to be looked at, perhaps, rather than thought about. You want to love it, but you can't.

Paris has never looked more inviting, but something goes wrong with the story when Andre looks too closely at Angela's deeds.

Her solutions to his problems are a bit off-putting, but maybe one shouldn't question an angel. Anyway, Angel-A suggests that it's good to be alive.

No argument there.
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