At The Movies with James Phelan: The Devil Wears Prada 2
Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci in The Devils Wears Prada 2.
Certain films can benefit from the support of critics. Positive reviews can hopefully generate some sort of groundswell to draw an audience to deserving fare. Certain films have an audience built in and those loyal viewers will show up regardless of what critics think or say. These movies are critic proof and ‘The Devil Wears Prada 2’ sits comfortably in that category.
Yet sometimes these pre-packaged slam-dunk hits are so professionally put together that their style and slickness quells the inner critic of potential disbelievers like me. This sequel is not flawless but it does put its best face and best foot forward to satisfy a fanbase who are going to lap it up. And hope for more.
It’s been an even 20 years since the original and on the face of it, this film certainly reads as a resounding success for advances in anti-aging creams and serums. Because the faces of the central quartet of Hathaway, Blunt, Tucci and Streep seem untroubled by wrinkles or blemishes of any kind. It’s remarkable how fresh they look. Especially since both Andy Sachs (Hathaway) and Miranda Priestly (Streep) are meant to be stressed and struggling with the decline of print journalism on a daily basis.
In the intervening years, Andy moved on from Miranda’s Runway magazine and ploughed her own furrow as a crusading features journalist. However, even as Andy wins a press award, her newspaper goes to the wall. Simultaneously, old school Miranda has never quite embraced the digital transition away from the physical Runway magazine.
Things come to a head when Runway gets entangled in the fall out of endorsing a fashion brand secretly using sweat shop labour. Miranda’s superiors yearn for some positive spin and select Andy as the new voice of Runway. A decision that control freak Miranda has no say in. Andy is delighted to reunite with Miranda’s right-hand man Nigel, played by the supremely dapper Stanley Tucci. But the reunion with Miranda is icy. Andy is viewed as an imposition by the impossible to please editor. It’s a dynamic familiar from the first film.
Thereafter the film gets embroiled in what can only be described as fashion industry espionage as promotions, hostile takeovers and buyouts swirl around in a world where the whims of billionaires reign supreme. And these decisions seem capricious and cruel. This plot draws in Miranda’s former assistant Emily (Blunt), who has done well for herself with a famous fashion house but is aiming even higher as the very existence of Runway is called into question.
All of this unfolds against a backdrop of globetrotting lifestyles of the rich and famous. Cameos abound. I’m not going to give away the identity of the film’s main musical guest. Nor a pretty random appearance by an Irish sports person. Suffice to say this film gives an audience that vicarious access to how the other half allegedly live. It’s telling that the film’s notion of slumming it is a plane flight in coach. Imagine the horror.
Elsewhere not everything works at the same high level either. Perhaps it’s only fitting that no men, apart from Nigel, really register. Kenneth Branagh rocks up as Miranda’s ostensible partner but he gets little to do. He wears a few nice blazers and leads a cello recital. And the less said about Andy’s new love interest the better. It’s a superfluous thread hanging off an otherwise well-tailored garment. Cutting it could have saved us a few minutes and a lot of awkward supposedly amorous exchanges.
Throughout, there are callbacks and references to the original. This nostalgia-soaked film prompts smiles, nods of recognition and the odd laugh. Forget high heels. Because despite all the haute couture on show here, this film is ultimately as comfy as a pair of slippers.
