Certainly, I’m not in the target demo for The Devil Wears Prada 2. I don’t especially care for couture and and the glamourous world of high fashion. The original 2006 movie isn’t something I hold in much regard, and if you were to watch it now, it’s like it came from a different planet where fashion magazines ruled and those who covered the scene were adjacent to an elite society most of us could only dream of. The sequel, which brings back all of the principle characters, easily could’ve been a simple nostalgia piece that gave fans more of what they loved. That’s definitely what I expected it to be. But credit to everyone involved, it’s actually quite a bit more insightful than that, and recognizes that the world is a very different place; people are struggling, journalism is fighting for survival, and culture magazines such as Runway are needing to evolve, as does its infamously prickly leader, Miranda Priestly.
Meryl Streep returns as the iconic Miranda, the Anna Wintour-esque director or Runway fashion magazine. She’s even more of an old battle ax than before, but times have changed. Her position is no longer as assured as it once was. Magazine sales have slipped, things have gone digital, and Miranda has to look over her shoulder not to receive any HR violations for her contemptuous treatment of staffers. She’s managed to hold on to her job thanks to the support of magazine chairman Irv Ravitz (Tibor Feldman), but finds that position tenuous when she runs a glowing feature on a clothing brand that covertly runs sweatshops. With Runway on the verge of collapse, Irv hires Miranda’s former assistant, Andy, played again by Anne Hathaway, to come in as the new Features editor where she can help clean up its public image.
Andy is in a different place than she was twenty years ago. She left fashion and got into hard journalism, writing stories that mattered but nobody read. On the same day she and her team win an award for their work, they are all unceremoniously laid off by text. So her acceptance speech turns into a rant against those billionaires who have turned journalism into a for profit industry, with the hard working reporters and staff seen as just numbers on a balance sheet. She goes viral for this screed, and it makes her the perfect voice to help rebrand Runway. Of course, this puts her at odds with Miranda, who barely seems to remember Andy at all. But when Irv is suddenly out of the picture and his Bezos-esque son begins tearing down everything that made Runway great, Andy and Miranda will have to figout out a way to work together if the magazine is to survive.
While The Devil Wears Prada 2 is smarter and more enjoyable than it has any right to be, it’s also less whimsical and funny. That said, those who come for the amazing outfits worn by outrageously beautiful people in exotic locales will have plenty to enjoy. The one who seems to be enjoying it the most is Stanley Tucci as the lovably droll Nigel, always the best dressed guy in any room. He’s still there dispensing sage, if somewhat acidic, advice to Andy, and of course, standing by Miranda’s side through thick and thin. We also see the return of Emily Bunt as Emily Charlton, Miranda’s icy former assistant and Andy’s rival, who has taken over as a senior exec at Dior and is soon to marry Benji, a lame billionaire bro played by Justin Theroux. Somehow, they managed to turn Theroux, once strapping and charismatic, into a clone of Leisure Suit Larry. The transformation is jarring, to say the least.
Actually, other than Nigel, the men in this movie are incredibly lame. For some reason, all of these powerful, brilliant, and beautiful women are attracted to dufuses; it’s like watching an episode of The King of Queens. Andy forms an unexpected relationship with Peter, a cheery Australian contractor punching way above his weight. The script does him no favors in painting him as a simp. When Andy, fresh off a rough day at work, lashes out at him in a very Miranda-esque way, he slinks away and practically begs for her to stay in his life. Lucy Liu also has a small role as Sasha Barnes, Benji’s ex-wife who has become a cultural icon for rebuilding herself after leaving that loser behind. Kenneth Branagh has a small role as Miranda’s husband, a violinist with a sensitive soul, but he doesn’t have much to do but be a sounding board for her.
With cameos by Donatella Versace, Lady Gaga, Heidi Klum, and an extensive trip to Dolce & Gabbana’s Milan Fashion Week, the film is like entering a world of extravagance that is reserved for the elite of the elite. However, Aline Brosh McKenna’s screenplay recognizes that, even amongst them, these fashionistas are at the whim of the billionaires who fund them, and it can all go away with the stroke of a pen if it means saving money or earning greater profits. Look at what someone like Jeff Bezos has done to The Washington Post. He bought this massive journalistic institution and has stripped it down to the bare bones. They still do journalism there, somewhat, but is hardly the force it once was. Stuff like that is happening all over the world, not just here.
Hathaway, Streep, Blunt, and Tucci all slip back into their roles gracefully, almost like they never left them. In almost every case it’s also like they haven’t aged a day, a fact that should make us all jealous. A decision to smooth out Miranda’s rough edges to make her more sympathetic doesn’t feel true to the character, but it’s balanced by Andy who remains hopeful, ambitious, and yet realistic about the profession she has chosen. The same can be said about The Devil Wears Prada 2, an indulgent but honest look at those who live a life of luxury that can go out of fashion at any moment.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 is in theaters now.
