Naturally, André messes that up, too. Standing atop a picturesque (and curiously low) bridge, he prepares for the end, only to notice a sexy, scantily clad blonde standing just a few feet away. She jumps. He follows, and drags her to shore. It is then that he meets Angela (Rie Rasmussen), the mysterious beauty who thanks him with a pledge of eternal devotion. Before long, Angela has solved his debt problem (don’t ask how), and turns her attention to André’s pathetically low self-esteem.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize that there’s something otherworldly about Angela, and not just because she can levitate coffee cups and produce cigarettes out of thin air. She is a divine creature on a mission, determined to teach André a few simple lessons. Respect yourself. Be honest. And, above all, don’t gamble on horses named after backstabbing Roman senators.

Director Luc Besson’s Angel-A is a redemption fantasy that lacks the bite of his best work but remains playfully endearing, perhaps never more so than during a climax that finds André and Angela once again tumbling into the Seine, still desperate but strangely blissful. It stumbles at times, particularly during that uncomfortable sequence in which Angela raises the cash to save André from his creditors. (Again, don’t ask.) But thanks to Thierry Arbogast’s gorgeous, black-and-white cinematography, which bathes Paris in resplendent light, and an unabashedly heartwarming story that pays homage to It’s a Wonderful Life and Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire, it can be forgiven such missteps.