Cooking With Paris (2021)

Despite the flimsiness and the silliness – or maybe because of it – there is something cheering about spending almost three hours in the kitchen with Paris. She seems at home in herself, despite the costumes and the professional company decorating her dining area for each meal.

It all gets odder as it goes on. It’s not (just) that Hilton has only four phrases at her disposal (“So good”, “So bomb”, “Insane”, “So cute”), but that she is such a deadening presence.

Watching Cooking with Paris is almost indistinguishable from not watching it. You come away with the sense of a wasted opportunity.

An over-produced miss. ... She seems to be trying to channel her clueless, perpetually bored Simple Life persona, but now that we know that that was just a character, it feels forced.

I cannot think of a single good reason why anyone would want to watch Cooking with Paris.

Vexing and cringey disaster. ... Maybe it’s that Lovato and Hilton’s relationship seems genuine, or that their energies match, but that episode, in which they try to prepare pink ravioli, feels the most worthwhile. I wish I could say the same about the rest of the series.

The problem, for Hilton, is that “Cooking With Paris” is a disaster — an utterly unappealing sit that many viewers will tune out before the first episode has ended.