Eiffel (2021)

Eiffel makes something wonderfully rare out of a story you think you already know: it turns a world-famous landmark into the emotional silhouette of a grand, old-fashioned romance. Martin Bourboulon stages 19th-century Paris with sumptuous scale and a painter’s eye, so the steel, smoke, and candlelight feel tactile, while Romain Duris and Emma Mackey give the film its pulse—two adults with history in their eyes and restraint in their voices. The tone is lush, earnest, and sweepingly classical, the kind of drama that wants you to sink into costumes, music, and longing as much as engineering. If you prefer your period films brisk and unsentimental, it may feel unabashedly romantic, but if you’re open to being carried by atmosphere and heart, it’s a handsome, stirring night at the movies.

Eiffel wants to turn a famous piece of engineering into a sweeping, old-school romantic melodrama, using the tower as a symbol for obsession, regret, and ambition. The problem is it leans so hard into the fictionalized love story that the actual build and the real-world stakes often feel like background scenery, and the writing can come off as thin and conveniently dramatic rather than truly earned. If you’re hoping for a smart historical/engineering drama about how the tower got made, this may feel like a bait-and-switch with sluggish pacing. Still, the film looks handsome, the period atmosphere is solid, and Romain Duris and Emma Mackey do what they can to sell the longing—just don’t expect the story to be as towering as its subject.