Deborah Lipp

The Devil Wears Prada (2006) 6/10
Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway), a recent journalism graduate, takes a job as second assistant to the director of Runway Magazine, Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep). There she must contend with her demonic boss and the aspiring demon first assistant Emily (Emily Blunt).

The Devil Wears Prada is an extremely inconsequential movie that is 70% fashion show, 20% broad comedy, and 10% interesting. Yet there are several things about it that stick in my craw to an extent that I feel compelled, virtually against my will, to review it.

First, there’s Anne Hathaway. Hathaway has eyes the way Angelina Jolie has lips. They’re otherworldly eyes that landed here from Eye Planet to sit on Hathaway’s face and stare back at us with enormous dark wonder. Big fucking eyes.

But she’s not much of an actress, and so the dramatic arc that is supposed to comprise the “plot” of The Devil Wears Prada is not very visible. Supposedly, she goes into Runway Magazine all serious and journalistic and literary and sweet and cute and cuddly, but as she becomes good at her job in high fashion, and also becomes fashionable, she turns to the Dark Side and becomes a detestable fashionista bitch, alienating her friends and boyfriend (the reasonably cute Adrian Grenier). Then! Spoiler! She Sees the Light! And reverts to her incredibly sweet, literary-minded self who has no need of high fasion.

So, first of all, yuck. But secondly, she just doesn’t pull it off. What happens is sweet, wide-eyed dowdy Andy becomes sweet, wide-eyed, hot-looking and competent Andy, so why is that a bad thing again? At some point, her friends start telling her she’s gone to the Dark Side, and I’m thinking What? How? All she’s done is pretty up and work long hours. So what?

And, yeah, some friends. At the start, she tells her friends and boyfriend that it’s going to be a hellish job, working for a notoriously demanding bitch, but it will open a lot of doors for her, so she’ll stick it out for one year. And they all agree, yeah, good plan. Except within six months they’re all over her case for never being around and changing and becoming “one of them” and all. Yet, the movie seems firmly on their side. The entire script construction is telling us that Andy has become E-Vile. But I don’t see it. I see Andy bringing cool swag to her friends, which they lap up. Her buddy Lily (Tracie Thoms) adores the free Marc Jacobs bag that retails for $1100, and still bitches Andy out for working hard at the high-stress job that brings home the goodies.

They also start to get pissy with her when she develops sympathy for the evil boss. Guess things are supposed to stay black and white. I mean, the movie relies so much on a conventional script, the kind where you know not just exactly what’s going to happen, but exactly what’s supposed to happen, that you do all the work. Except in this case, it really felt like the script wasn’t even coming along for the ride.

Of course, yes, Streep is great as Cruella de Ville Miranda Priestly, and she manages to bring substance to the role. And Stanley Tucci is lovely in his turn as a put-upon and good-hearted designer. But is that enough? Hell, no. It’s so utterly not enough that it’s a real shame for Streep to get the nomination for this film.