Salut mes chéris,
With the recent release of "The Devil Wears Prada 2" (2026) and its accompanying enthusiastic promotional advertising, I was compelled to revisit the original. Let's talk about it!
I don't have a super strong memory of my original in-theaters viewing of "The Devil Wears Prada" (2006), other than some mild ambivalence. Upon rewatching it, that ambivalence makes sense. At its core, this is a deeply confused movie.
This confusion begins with its deeply unbelievable premise, which is that Anne Hathaway's overly earnest and supposedly competent aspiring reporter Andy shows up to an interview at a major publication completely uninformed about with whom and for what role she's interviewing--but we're meant to believe that because the publication she's interviewing for is about fashion and she's too frumpy to know about fashion.
The idea that an American woman raised anywhere other than under a rock, or maybe in some extremely isolated religious cult, wouldn't be at least passingly familiar with Vogue magazine (okay okay, excuse me, "Runway") is so fucking ridiculous as to bend credulity to the breaking point from the very outset of the film--especially given that this is a movie aimed primarily at women. I say this as a deeply unfashionable person: I know what the fuck Vogue is, not to mention who Anna Wintour is. And knowing what little I unavoidably know as a human woman living in American society, I would sure as hell not blunder my way completely clueless into an interview with Anna Wintour. Excuse me, Miranda Priestly.
It's all the more unclear why, after getting chastised by Priestly one time for not moving heaven and Earth to get her on a plane during a hurricane, Andy then not just endures but seemingly radically embraces the wardrobe overhaul necessary to succeed in her role as Priestly's junior personal assistant.
Not only does she completely transform her outward aesthetic, but we're also I guess meant to believe that this Priestly scolding with resultant sartorial metamorphosis that is the crucial activator that catalyzes Andy's transformation from barely-holding-onto-a-role-she-didn't-even-really-want-but-a-million-other-girls-do into gunner-to-end-all-gunners. She didn't want this job anyway, but now that she's been yelled at once and got some new clothes, she's all in? Okay.
Then we're supposed to think poorly of Andy for missing her boyfriend's birthday because she gets roped into attending "the biggest benefit of the year" with Priestly and her primary personal assistant, Emily (played by Emily Blunt). But I'm so sorry, wouldn't that event be the fucking Met Gala?? Abundant valid reasons for criticizing and boycotting the Gala acknowledged, are we seriously meant to believe, let alone side with, her boyfriend and friends being salty over his girlfriend getting to attend an internationally recognized event?? Would they seriously not understand that this is one of the biggest perks of this otherwise grueling and thankless job? I just don't understand what world these characters are living in.
But then even her boyfriend, Adrian Grenier's Nate, later reminds Andy when she apologizes for missing his birthday, "I'm not four." So are we mad at her for missing his birthday or not?
We're also supposed to side with Andy's friends for rolling their eyes and seeming exasperated that she's changed after she shows up to drinks with them and unloads literally thousands of dollars' worth of accessories, beauty products, and even a weird little fashion-phone, which they greedily snap up before playing keepaway with Andy's work phone when Priestly calls her. Again, I'm sorry, but what?? Andy's the asshole here?? Because what actually seems to be happening is that her friends are happy to lap up the benefits of having a friend who works at Vogue (excuse me, RUNWAY), without acknowledging the predictable personal cost to that friend's personal life. It makes sense to be disappointed and to miss her when she can't be present, but you lose me when that manifests as messing with her a split second after you accept a bunch of fancy freebies from her.
Are we also meant to be on board with how creepily Simon Baker's Christian Thompson hounds Andy for a date, let alone his very fake-looking eyebrows? And also that Andy recognizes and loves his work... but knew nothing about Vogue (I mean Runway!!)... but he is at every major fashion event, including Paris Fashion Week, which sure makes it seem like his work would either be in fashion or fashion-adjacent publications....??? Because I hate everything about that subplot.
Sidenote: Can we please all talk about the fact that Miranda Priestly never says, "You're not going to Paris!"???? That line is literally never said in this movie. Isn't that the iconic line from this movie??
I actually googled this and rewound the part of the movie where it seemed like that line belonged because I was so convinced I missed it. I feel very gaslit by the Mandela Effect of it all.
Finally, perhaps the most perplexing turn is when Andy rushes to inform Priestly of the threat to Priestly's standing at the magazine. Because this film has not remotely developed Andy's interiority enough to explain her sudden fervent allegiance to Priestly. On the one hand, this movie makes gestures at grappling with the sexist double-standards high-achieving women face even at the highest echelons of industry and influence, which Andy fleetingly and feebly pays lip service to. But it also portrays Priestly as pretty commitedly cold-blooded, mercilessly self-interested, and unlikable. As a result, Andy's momentary dog-like dedication to her seems unearned, misplaced, and more than a bit embarrassing.
At the end of the movie, Andy has left her job at Runway and interviews for a reporting job, Miranda is still firmly ensconced in her role at the magazine, Andy's boyfriend is taking a sous-chef job in Boston, and I have a bit of an ambivalently queasy tummy. Hurrayyyy?
"The Devil Wears Prada" is admittedly not without its bright spots. Meryl Streep is absolutely delicious as Miranda Priestly, and Stanley Tucci is delightful. The fashion and styling are by now so incredibly dated as to be fascinating in a schadenfreude-y way that actually adds depth to the movie's examination of the fickleness and ephemerality of the fashion industry. And at the end of the day, this is a fun dumb movie, and there's not much harm in that.
After this rewatch, I gave the movie a 2.
{Heart}
_film_poster.jpg)
