Now is the discontent of their Wintour

The Devil Wears Prada 2
Director: David Frankel
Cast: Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt, Justin Theroux, Kenneth Branagh, Stanley Tucci
Rating: (M) ★★★
 

The Devil Wears Prada 2 is a sober sequel to its lavish original, exchanging its extravagance for a more true-to-life narrative about the death of journalism.

Twenty years after the naive writer stumbled into a job as the assistant to Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), the ruthless editor-in-chief of fashion magazine Runway, Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) happens her way back into a job at the magazine; which is in the middle of a PR crisis. Can Andy turn the media narrative around, saving Miranda’s job while consultants and corporate sales look to tear the company down?

It’s a familiar cast of characters, though aged 20 years, grounded versus their caricature-ish originals. Miranda is emotionally bare — once the icy perfectionist, now she hangs up her own coat.

If the devil wore Prada in 2006, the devil wears quarterzips and athleisure in 2026.

While the DNA of their original characters is slightly muted, the performances from Hathaway and Streep aren’t without their star essence.

It is Emily Blunt, as Emily Charlton, once the lowly assistant but now a powerful executive at Dior, who steals the show. The film is plotted through her rivalry with Miranda, as she attempts to wrestle control of Runway through the wealth of her dim-witted beau, Benji (Justin Theroux), one of two men whose immense power might throw the magazine into turmoil.

BJ Novak plays Jay, the son of Runway’s owner, who inherits the company after his father passes away, snatching Miranda’s promotion from her the night she was fated to receive it.

The Devil Wears Prada 2 is about a feel-bad industry with complex characters, not a feel-good industry with idiosyncratic ones; the slow, bureaucratic death of journalism, not the magic of fashion. The movie plots this conveniently — clumsily slotting Andy into her new role (though this is in tandem with Hathaway’s klutzy charm).

My only real criticism of the overriding narrative arc is how it finds the time for a (chemistry-less) romantic side plot between Andy and a luxury real estate developer. That, paired with a glossy, television-like camera quality, gives the otherwise charming film a cheapness redolent of a straight-to-streaming movie.