Fragmented and inconsistent by definition, omnibus movies will always meet with mixed reactions. 1989’s New York Stories bore fruit for Woody Allen and Martin Scorsese but saw Francis Coppola pelted with rotten tomatoes.

More recently, Grindhouse finds both Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez trying to erase the memories of the condemned Four Rooms, but only QT’s half is receiving plaudits.

With eighteen tales to tell, Paris je t’aime is more ambitious than most and could well have become a case of ‘too many cooks’. Thankfully, the strong segments outnumber the weak.

One way or the other, each story is about love: lost or found, craved or shunned, coming or going, natural or – in one instance – supernatural. And unsurprisingly, the tales cover a spectrum of tones and styles.

At the melancholy end, a Mexican nanny (Catalina Sandino Moreno) is sent on a brief, ironic journey by Walter ‘Motorcycle Diaries’ Salles; despair falls upon a husband about to leave his wife (Miranda Richardson); and – most tragic of all - a Nigerian immigrant is laid low after simply following his heart.

Hope springs from Gurindha Chadha's interracial romance, as well as the dreamlike epiphany for grieving mother Juliette Binoche, and the play-acting between boredly-weds Bob Hoskins and Fanny Ardant (though divorcing couple Ben Gazzara and Gena Rowlands have moved on to younger models).

Tom Tykwer and Alexander Payne hardly stretch themselves, with Natalie Portman’s aspiring actress proving that love is blind in the former's retread of Run Lola Run and the latter simply doing a gender-flip of About Schmidt.

Smiles come from a playful meeting of mimes in Sylvain Chomet’s Eiffel trifle, and the Coens giving tourist Steve Buscemi a typically sharp and quirky lesson in Parisian culture on the Metro.

There are surprises, too. Cuaron’s one-take effort featuring Nick Nolte and a younger woman (Ludovine Seigner) doesn’t go where you expect, and Elijah Wood (aptly enough) appears in an episode ripped straight from the pages of Sin City.

Duff notes include the arty Oriental nonsense from Christopher Doyle, Wes Craven's irritating cemetery set-to for Emily Mortimer and Rufus Sewell, and an uninspired gay flirtation from Gus Van Sant.

Ultimately it's all a matter of taste. A meal of hors d’oeuvres is never going to be completely satisfying, but even the most picky eaters should find something they like. Bon appetit.

Elliott Noble