The Devil Wears Prada
Directed by: David Frankel
Starring: Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt, Stanley Tucci
Rated: PG-13 for some sensuality.
Parental Notes: This is a good movie for teens, especially those who have jobs. Preteens may enjoy it as well. There is very little in the way of language or sex, and then sensuality mentioned in the rating is very minor. The only questionable content is the incredibly thin actresses splattered all over the screen.
Workers who loathe their bosses will adore “The Devil Wears Prada.” The devil of the title, Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep, “A Prairie Home Companion”), is so astonishingly awful that she puts other bosses to shame. Sadly, the film leaves out some of the best examples of her horribleness from the book (of the same title) — but I suppose that leaves a small treat in store for those folks who haven’t read the book yet. As Lauren Weisberger’s debut novel, “The Devil Wears Prada” was a bestseller for very good reason. The film doesn’t live up to its original material, but at least it’s entertaining in its Hollywoodish way.
Anne Hathaway (“Brokeback Mountain”) plays Andrea Sachs, a fresh-faced college graduate who dreams of being a journalist. When sheer luck lands her a job as Priestly’s second assistant at the incredibly influential “Runway” magazine, she is pleased to have a job, but not thrilled by the fact that she’s working at a fashion magazine. The first assistant Emily (Emily Blunt, “Irresistible”) is snide and cruel, Priestly is utterly horrid, and the closest thing Andrea has to a friend at work is the snide art director Nigel (Stanley Tucci, “Lucky Number Slevin”).
Andrea is determined to survive for at least a year, though, because word has it that if you last a year with Priestly, she will write you a recommendation anywhere you want to go. Andrea’s clips and applications have landed her zero response from the newspapers and journals she dreams of writing for, and it seems that Priestly is her only hope. Unfortunately for Andrea, the fourteen-hour days and free haute couture clothing begin to change her. Before long, her friends are complaining that they never see her and her boyfriend Nate (Adrian Grenier, “Across the Hall”) says they have nothing in common any more.
The storyline and many of the details of the film have been lifted straight from the book, which is a benefit. It’s a great story with solid, enjoyable characters, and the actors fill them out perfectly. Hathaway is fantastic as Andrea, and does an excellent job portraying the poor gal’s attempts to hide her disdain for the world of fashion toward the beginning, and her inevitable slide into the world of couture as the film goes on.
The real scene-stealer, as is to be expected, is Streep. Miranda Priestly is a fantastic character, and Streep pours everything into her. There is no grimacing here, no scenery-chewing. Priestly never, ever raises her voice or has an expression more intense than pursing her lips (except for one rather limp scene near the end where she smiles), and she is utterly cutting with the most calm phrases imaginable. When she tells you she is disappointed in you, she might as well have slit your face open with a razor. Streep brings her to horrifying life, and the power and intensity that radiates off her is incredibly intimidating. It’s a joy watching this fine actress work.
Sadly, as the film draws to its end, predictable Hollywood mediocrity rears its ugly head. There’s all too much glitz and melodrama, with a tacked-on saccharine ending that softens Priestly’s magnificent character and gives a fantasy happy ending to our heroine. It does not help that I greatly enjoyed the book (I read it at a time when I loathed my job and it was a great antidote for that) and the film falls short of that brilliance. Overall, the movie is enjoyable but not great; it’s really only worth seeing for Meryl Streep’s fantastic performance.