I have no idea why The Devil Wears Prada 2 has been given an ‘adult’ certification, which translates to the fact that those under 18 can’t watch the film. What it should have come with — without a shade of doubt — is a massive trigger warning for journalists, especially those who still believe in the integrity and impact of the written word. Many will enjoy the sequel — it will be a big summer blockbuster for sure, though it will not have the lasting legacy of the 2006 original — but for many journalists like myself (especially those in lifestyle and entertainment journalism), The Devil Wears Prada 2 hits too close to the bone. I went in wanting to relax, throw my head back and laugh. I didn’t quite manage to.
Which doesn’t mean that The Devil Wears Prada 2 isn’t a good film. It just isn’t a feel-good film, especially for those who can not only identify with the biting relevance of its subject, but also find themselves in the middle of it, in some form or the other.
Returning director David Frankel and writer Aline Brosh McKenna place the sequel in the here and now — which is two decades after the first film. The new outing, staying within the corridors of Runway, the fashion magazine that formed such an indelible part of the first film, casts more than a glance at some bitter truths of the present and future. That includes the decline of journalism as we have known it, the shift towards digital-first reporting, the depressive state of ad-depleted fashion magazines....
The film starts off with something that would seem all too familiar — an award-winning journalist and her entire team being fired via a text message because the publication that they work in is unable to sustain. Words like “layoffs”, “downsizing” and “consolidation” are hurled at the screen within the first five minutes. I squirm in my seat.
It takes the sunshine-y charm and the familiar full-teethed smile from Anne Hathaway — returning as Andrea “Andy” Sachs, and the co-lead of the film — to make me want to watch the rest of The Devil Wears Prada 2. This despite the fact that Andy — having left her years as a personal assistant far behind and earning her stripes in serious, impactful journalism — is the reporter in question who finds herself without a job. After rattling off the familiar story of a media company taking a $500 million write-down while the take-home of its CEO the previous year was $11 million, we find Andy being given an overnight opportunity — to not only “clack” back into the offices of Runway as its features editor, but with a bigger task at hand.
Runway is no longer what it was, its iconic boss Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep and her icy white bob are both back) struggling to keep the ethos and ethics of the magazine afloat in a volatile market dictated by changing audience tastes, dwindling revenue and the pressure of metrics. She is also battling an ill-timed expose on endorsing a fast-fashion brand built on sweatshop labour. Cue for the management to bring in Andy — without Miranda’s knowledge — and even though she steps up and rectifies the faux pas via an article that is labelled “a bracing mea culpa”, it barely cuts ice with Priestly. In short, Miranda — though now mostly on the backfoot as she tries to keep Runway alive — has still not lost her (sarcastic) stripes. It will take a lot more for Andy, as we see in this 119-minute watch — what a relief to walk out from a film within two hours in these times of unnecessary marathon-ers — to get Miranda to be on “the same team”.
Also back in the sequel is Stanley Tucci as Miranda’s trusted lieutenant Nigel. Tucci, who is given more to bite into in this film than the first, has some of its best lines, and he runs with it. Andy continues to be Nigel’s “forever girl”, and that moment when he dives into the Runway closet to fish out pieces for Andy for a weekend at the Hamptons hits the nostalgia-first button in more ways than one.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 works best, in fact, when it taps into what we have loved — and lived with — through two decades. “A million girls would kill for this job” will always make you wistfully chuckle and Miranda’s frosty “That’s all” will tease a definite laugh out of you. The new film does have some memorable lines — “Stockholm called, it wants its syndrome back” is an instant classic — but I am not sure how many of them, if any, will have the sticking power of the iconic one-liners from the original.
The familiar fourth player in the mix is Emily Blunt, who comes back to play Emily Charlton. A bitter parting from Miranda later, Emily is now on the other side of the power game — as one of the honchos at luxury brand Dior, she has the power to bring her former boss to her knees (well, almost), and the first reunion meeting between the four principal characters shows the control Emily (Blunt’s subtle comic timing is on point) wields as she nonchalantly demands free ad space and dedicated editorial space from a pushed-against-the-wall Miranda.
The film also has some updates on things Miranda can’t get away with any longer. In an amusing moment, we see her struggle to hang up her coat herself (as opposed to flinging it on her assistant’s desk) and she now has an assistant (Amari, played by Simone Ashley), who doesn’t flinch from pointedly stepping in when she sees Miranda being politically incorrect. There is also a “body-positive” addition in the form of Miranda’s second assistant Charlie (played by Caleb Hearon).
But very little can take away from Miranda’s unyielding poise and acerbic tongue (Streep is brilliant as expected), even when she stares down a bleak future where she questions herself whether “it is time”. The film uses her character to comment on the chasm between the growing domination of artificial intelligence versus the (still lasting) impact of human achievement. It is telling that Miranda has a conversation about the same with billionaire Benji Barnes (Justin Theroux brings on the laughs) sitting in the foreground of the Last Supper in Milan, which is, of course, a staggering accomplishment of human imagination and talent.
The other avaricious money man in the scheme of things is Jay Ravitz (B.J. Novak), the athleisure-sporting boss (someone horrifically points out he sports Drakkar Noir) of Runway’s parent company, who is all too keen to unload it off his back.
Such characters and situations give rise to moments in The Devil Wears Prada 2 which, though a certain lightness of touch is attempted throughout, somehow robs it off the unbridled joy that marked the original. At one point, Miranda wonders what it means to live in a world that seems to care more about chasing a new adrenaline-pumping kick than it does about the slow pursuit of beauty. Nigel observes that even if he had the budget to set up elaborate fashion shoots, they don’t matter anymore — the magazine’s “readers” scroll through everything without appreciating any artistry. There is quite a bit of existential angst dominating the plot, which — whether you are in the thick of it in reality or not — is bound to make you ponder more than simply let loose and laugh.
One of the film’s high points, however, is its assemblage of celebrity cameos. Lady Gaga pops in for a delish tete-a-tete with Streep, followed by a stage act in the way only she can. Other notable names in the credits include Donatella Versace, Marc Jacobs, Heidi Klum and Naomi Campbell.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 rounds up some beautiful visuals — and we are just not talking about the fashion. Milan’s iconic landmarks come alive in the film, as does the ethereal beauty of Lake Como.
The film hurtles towards a finale which ties it all up neatly with a ribbon, but in the world as we know it now, it is too good to be true. But it is the end we all need, and can at least hope for. Whether we get it or we don’t.
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