Wait. I’m not sure I know this one … is about “curds and whey” or “fetching a pail of water?” Insisting that movies don’t have to be barn burners, Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris displayed a heroine who wasn’t interested in love … or revenge … or societal upheaval … or curing cancer … or robbing Fort Knox … or even making sure fools get served. Mrs. Harris wants a dress. That’s it. A dress. A nice dress, to be sure. A Christian Dior, which in the 1950s would cost around £500 (or roughly the same cost as having an all-night rager in Westminster Abbey). All she wants is a dress. And this sweet little film reminds us that sometimes it matters not what the protagonist wants so long as we care about the protagonist.
Ada Harris (Lesley Manville) is a war widow. Such is only confirmed in the “Rock ‘n’ Roll” era long after the war had ended; Mr. Harris has been gone since 1942. Mrs. Harris has known for years that her husband ain’t comin’ back, but that don’t pay the bills, see? Afternoon tea doesn’t pay for itself, y’know?
Actually, besides rent, I have no idea what Mrs. Harris spends money on. She seems the thriftiest of souls; she doesn’t indulge in food or booze or clothes or lifestyle or some laughably indulgent hobby involving rocking horses or biscuit cozies. And yet, she’s not well off. The house cleaning just isn’t covering 
the rent like it used to.
One day at a particularly snotty client’s home, Mrs. Harris finds her grail: a Christian Dior original. And the quest is on. Valuing not a single thing in her life more important than this task, Ada Harris seeks to earn enough money to walk/swim/walk to Paris, buy her own Dior, and return in time to go on with her life of cleaning other people’s filth.
I’ll stop here, cuz I haven’t really done the film justice. Everything I’ve written is more-or-less true, but it doesn’t give a good picture of who Ada Harris is. This is a woman who has nothing. No kids. No dowry. No stake in society. She doesn’t even have her husband, her youth, or the ability to indulge in the leisure of a workless weekend. And yet she’s kind and a good friend. And when this poor woman decides all she wants out of life is one damn dress, we respond, “Well, why the Hell not?! Get her a damn dress for Christsake; it’s not like she wants the Crown Jewels.”
Ah, but it isn’t that easy. It never is.
Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris is a sweet and simple film about a sweet and simple woman with a sweet and simple passion. In fact, the only time I think the film loses itself is when Ada Harris suddenly becomes Joan of Arc for some reason. Does that make any sense to you? One English cleaning woman becomes the catalyst for entire overhaul of the French fashion economy? No, it doesn’t make sense to me, either. Otherwise, however, this is an oddly compelling film for such a world-surrendering plot. I won’t call it genius. It isn’t. But we care about Mrs. Harris and, hence, we care about how she approaches this critical time in her life. And the end of the day, do you need more from a film than that? I don’t think so.
Mrs. Harris took on a solo quest
An acquisition must be made before rest
I don’t want to sound sleazy
But that goal is too easy
Try getting a Dior in Budapest
Rated PG, 115 Minutes
Director: Anthony Fabian
Writer: Anthony Fabian, Carroll Cartwright, Keith Thompson
Genre: Simple quest
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: People who value middle aged women
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: People who need plots to be BIGGER
