I saw the original The Devil Wears Prada back in 2006, when I came out in theaters, and then again in 2022 on one of the streaming platforms. I can’t say that I remember much about it, but if it looked as good as The Devil Wears Prada 2, which I watched in a theater, then I probably liked it. Why? Because the current film is gorgeous and gorgeousness certainly counts for something in a movie. It surely counts for something, even something important. But I can’t carry the whole film.
And neither can a vibe. I’m talking about Meryl Streep as Miranda Priestly, the haughty editor of Runway magazine, a high-class fashion magazine. As soon as the film gets going you know that somewhere down the line that this b*tch Lady Boss will reveal herself to have, if not a heart of gold, at least one filled with crème brûlée. How do you know this? Because you’ve seen lots of movies and that’s how these roll. But you can’t hang the whole damn movie on that unveiling so that the revelation eclipses whatever events brought it about. That’s what Prada 2 does and, I’m willing at this point to assume, the original as well.
Somewhere within view of the end, Priestly is talking with Emily (played by Emily Blunt), a former assistant and explaining why she never promoted her within the magazine. She tells her: “You don't have what it takes. I'm sorry, but you're not a visionary. You're a vendor.” I know what the words mean, but in this context I’m afraid they don’t compute.
There’s nothing in the movie that gives meaning to the idea of a visionary editor of a fashion rag. We’re supposed to believe that that’s what Miranda is because, well, that’s what the plot requires of her, and that’s what she thinks of herself. That’s not enough. In The Aviator (2004) Martin Scorsese shows us what made Howard Hughes a visionary. Francis Ford Coppola does the same for failed auto maker Preston Tucker in Tucker: The Man and His Dream (1988). For that matter, the 2024 documentary, Martha, shows us that Martha Stewart was a visionary, and the first Lady Boss to become a billionaire. None of that, whatever it is, made it into the Prada films.
What we see are gorgeous clothes in beautiful settings. I hardly even noticed the “plot” in this film, which is about Runway being taken over by tech billionaire who has no interest in fashion. All he cares about is generating clicks he can sell to advertisers and settling his girlfriend, the afore-mentioned Emily, in as the new editor. The plot is foiled by Andy (Anne Hatheway), also from the old days (and the original film). What I’ll remember, however, is a beautiful light blue sport jacket in a subtle windowpane plaid worn by Nigel (Stanley Tucci), fashion director for the magazine.
No, I’m afraid there are no visionaries in the movie. Just vendors. High class vendors perhaps, but still vendors. All that talk about beauty and art doesn’t change that.
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P.S. For very different look at the world of fashion, take a look at the Japanese series Atelier [Media Notes 110]. It's much more intimate, but also includes a central character reminiscent of Anna Wintour.
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