Paul from Paris

This fall, French politicians have succumbed to a malady worse than swine flu: judicial entanglements.

Former president Jacques Chirac has just been indicted by an investigating magistrate on corruption charges. According to the magistrate’s allegations, while Chirac was Paris mayor (starting in 1977), up to 21 staffers were on the city payroll even though they were not actually working for the city. If the case goes to trial and results in a conviction, Chirac risks up to 10 years imprisonment and a fine up to 150,000 euros.

A Chirac protégé, former prime minister Dominique de Villepin, just finished a trial himself, on charges of defamation and conspiracy arising from a smear campaign that targeted Nicolas Sarkozy.

The allegations in both cases are bizarre.

In Villepin’s case, someone made up phony bankng records that purported to show that figures, such as Sarkozy, held bank accounts abroad. This was supposed to have cast suspicion on the figures in connection with kickbacks on arms sales; why else would someone have a bank account in another country?

In Chirac’s case, no one accuses the former president of enriching himself or friends. Nor does anyone claim that the city hall staffers had no-show jobs, receiving pay without working. The charges instead allege that the work done did not match exactly the staffers’ job descriptions. Some of the employees did work that was more political than municipal. Others worked outside Paris.

I take corruption seriously and recognize that it does exist in France, but believe that both cases reveal a lack of prosecutorial discretion. I’m inclined to think that investigating magistrates and prosecutors became enchanted with their targets. I’m worried that in an effort to prove that all are equal before the law, with favoritism for none, eccentric cases have been made to stand in for more serious offenses. Above all, I’m concerned that the French criminal code is so extensive that almost any conduct, viewed in a certain light, can be made to suggest wrongdoing, or conspiring in wrongdoing, or benefitting from wrongdoing.

Once upon a time, it wasn’t easy to find an English-language book in Paris (just as it wasn’t easy to find a French-language book in the US). In the days before Internet access, I was partial to the Galignani bookshop. It always impressed me as worldly and sophisticated, with a deep selection of fine arts books, as well as a generalist collection of quality books in French and in English. The store was happy to place single-copy orders for me; the books arrived after several weeks and cost me more than their list price.

Today, this has changed, thanks to amazon.com. I’m now able to get English-language titles quickly and with a choice between English and American editions. Amazon.com has a base in Europe, so I don’t have to worry about customs duties (and delays) or egregious postal (sur)charges (and delays).

Recorded music followed different rules. Because of territorial distribution arrangements, some titles that were easy to find (and inexpensive) in the US were available only as high-priced, hard-to-find imports in France. Online retailers like amazon.com helped ease supply and lessen price differentials, but less than is the case for books. And online retailers like iTunes sometimes can’t deliver: because of territorial distribution arrangements, some songs or albums aren’t available in the French “store”.

Territorial distribution arrangements are even more restrictive for other forms of entertainment, such as movies and television programs. In Paris, where I live, American movies are usually shown in English, subtitled in French. I know that subtitling takes time. But distributors are capable of releasing a subtitled (or dubbed) movie at the same time as its US release. Usually the lag between a US and a French opening is driven by choices of a French distributor, and usually these choices lead to a French opening months after an American release. (Two exceptions are Woody Allen and James Bond pictures, both of which seem to come out in France before their US release.) Because of exploitation “windows”, this delay slows the eventual video release of American pictures in the French market.

The lag and its consequences is even more pronounced for television programs. I’m American, so I have a particular appetite for programming in English; I don’t want or need subtitles, much less dubbing. Thanks to video streaming, content producers could satisfy my demand. I’d be willing to pay for a download or even one-time streamed video; I would also accept commercial breaks. And my consumption of content in this way would not cannibalize from French broadcasters or cable channels: I don’t watch much French TV, especially American programming dubbed into French. A broadcaster can’t lose a pair of eyeballs it never had to begin with.

Unfortunately for me (and others like me), sources of television programming enforce territorial restrictions strictly. iTunes won’t let me download the programs I want, simply because my bank happens to be in France. Streaming services like Hulu are, for now, limited to the US.

I have guarded hope for the future when I read comments such Disney CEO Richard Iger’s to the Financial Times: “the business model that underpins the movie business is changing”.

This ironwork caught my eye while visiting a property in France. It’s a detail from a gate that has been abandoned and unused for years. Two things caught my eye: the way some elements passed through rings in others; and the treatment of the leaf.

France is littered with reminders of craftsmanship that predate and often surpass factory-manufactured goods. They’re often hidden away, and they’re always a pleasure to find.

In French, “mettre la table” means “to set the table”.

It’s a good expression to know, because the French spend significant time on meals.

When a table is set, the English place some cutlery. What do Americans call cutlery? Silverware. Even if not made from silver. No one in America thinks it odd to talk about “plastic silverware”.

Plastic silverware (or plastic cutlery) risks spending a protracted afterlife as landfill, but it does have some benefits: lightweight, easy to transport, sanitary if wrapped.

I was taken aback to find plastic cutlery in France with a brand on it. And what a brand: Philippe Starck’s eponymous Starck Studio. Apparently, the plastic cutlery collection is a serious endeavor, with an extensive range.

Do we need designer plastic cutlery? Just what does a brand or signature add?

For the end user, arguably nothing. A consumer has to look, very closely, at the underside of the plastic cutlery to discern the Starck Studio provenance. (In my photo, I’ve circled the brand in red.)

The brand signifies that some design know-how has been invested in the product. But the fork looks like a fork, and the knife looks like a knife. The design is not novel to the point where a consumer could pick out this particular design from a representative panel of plastic cutlery. An end user probably will not remember anything special about this line of plastic cutlery.

For the buyer,  perhaps the brand is meant to signal quality production, the idea being that Starck Studio would associate itself only with quality manufacturers. For buyers –at least or European buyers– the Starck Studio brand is likely to be more recognizeable than a manufacturer brand, maybe even more than a distributor brand. The point of the Starck Studio brand would thus be a kind of bonding: a designer standing in as a proxy for a quality manufacturer.

Paris is hosting an exhibition that will appeal to visitors interested in world cultures: From Byzantium to Istanbul. The exhibition is at the Grand Palais until 25 January 2010.

From Byzantium to Istanbul is organized chronologically, over different periods in the city’s history. Its strengths are: the number of pieces, chiefly from museums in Turkey and in France; and the layout, which affords space for the works and avoids crowding.

The organizers have made available interesting materials online, but it’s in French, as are explanatory texts at the exhibition itself. This having been said, the organizer makes available an audioguide in English, available at the museum or for download in advance.

The exhibition is child-friendly, due to the variety of the artwork on display. I especially appreciated a photographic exhibit of Istanbul’s domes, placed about midway through the exhibition circuit; this made for a great break for younger museum-goers.