The Devil Wears Prada
Director: David Frankel
With: Ann Hathaway, Meryl Streep
Runtime: 109 mins
I couldn’t help speculating that my little sister seemed a more suitable reviewer for The Devil Wears Prada, not only because her grammar is far superior to mine. The Devil Wears Prada didn’t seem to be intended for an extremely macho super-stud like myself (a slight exaggeration perhaps, but a valid point nonetheless). This movie either taught me not to pre-judge so much, or that my opinion of my manliness is vastly over-inflated.
Based on a novel by Lauren Weisberger, the film follows naïve young Andy (Anne Hathaway) as she attempts to make it as a New York journalist by becoming 2nd assistant to “Ice Queen” Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) at a ‘Vogue’-esque fashion magazine. As Andy struggles to adjust to the job that a million girls would kill for, she begins to lose her integrity and sense of self under the steely gaze and diva mannerisms of her egocentric boss. Although the rather predictable plot only has one ‘solemn’ point to hammer home- repeatedly, and with limited subtlety- the script itself sparkles with catty put- downs and dazzlingly cynical quips. Director David Frankel may pay careful homage to the fashion industry throughout, but the film is unafraid to pick away at the industry’s vacuous façade in one-liners like “Yes, that is what this million dollar business is all about. Inner beauty…” This is, in short, a fun film.
The Devil Wears Prada may follow the conventions of every single ‘chick-flick’ ever made, but it still left me with a broad smile on my face. Everyone in the film seems to be having great fun with the material. Streep in particular revels in her Cruella De Vil impression, and while her savage tongue provides many great moments, the best lines belong to Stanley Tucci, who has his own tongue so firmly in cheek that I feared he might choke.
This film is not without significant flaws. It remains in essence a chick flick. Even during its ‘heavy’ moments it’s as light as one of the magazine’s models themselves, and the plot is rushed, despite having very little to say. Andy’s friends constantly bemoan how much she has changed, a fact the audience has to take for granted as the only noticeable shift is in her hairstyle. Endless product placement wears thin before even the opening credits are over.
However, while the film prioritises all this above the development of both plot and character, it rarely interferes with the general merriment. Ultimately this film is about priorities. I’m just grateful that it never prioritises anything over its sense of humour.
