Shadows on the Wall | The Devil Wears Prada 2

The Devil Wears Prada 2

dir David Frankel
scr Aline Brosh McKenna
prd Wendy Finerman
with Meryl Streep, Emily Blunt, Stanley Tucci, Justin Theroux, Simone Ashley, Kenneth Branagh, Lucy Liu, Tracie Thoms, Pauline Chalamet, Caleb Hearon, BJ Novak, Lady Gaga
release US/UK 1.May.26
26/US 20th Century 1h59

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Thanks to its likeable cast of expert scene-stealers, this 20-years-later sequel just about keeps us entertained for a couple of hours. While there are several superb one-liners peppered throughout the script, the plot is almost painfully clunky, straining itself through a series of contrived situations while undermining what made these characters so memorable in the first place. At least it's fun to have them back on the big screen.

As corporations crush magazines for maximum profits, venerable fashion monthly Runway is clinging to life through social media engagement. Then unemployed journalist Andy (Hathaway) is hired to liven up its features desk, and fashion expert Nigel (Tucci) once again helps her navigate imperious editor Miranda (Streep) and her snooty assistant Amari (Ashley). Then just as they head off to Milan to stage a major show, the magazine's owner (Novak) announces devastating layoffs. So Andy reaches out to her old nemesis Emily (Blunt), now a boss at Dior and girlfriend to billionaire Benji (Theroux), for help.

Each scene loudly announces the themes as well as the next story point, so there is never a question of where the plot is heading. This exposition has a dampening effect on the sparkly banter between these high-achieving characters. But the real problem is that the filmmakers so desperately want to humanise Miranda that there are only glimpses of what we love about her. Sure, she's tetchy and hilariously snappy, but she also has a cuddly husband (Branagh) and repeatedly reveals her inner insecurities.

Streep is of course adept enough to make this look like character development, almost supernaturally able to appear domineering and fragile at the same time. But this subverts the dynamic with her minions, who can now clearly see behind the curtain. Opposite her, Hathaway is perky and smart, Tucci is pithy and knowing, Blunt is acerbic and oddly delusional. Then the script makes all four of them wallow in out-of-character sentimentality.

There are some excellent points along the way about the shifting tide in the media industry, especially as it touches on how executive bonuses have become more important than providing quality products for the customers who gave them their billions. And there are some terrific jabs at the fashion world as well, including riotous sight gags and a catwalk of starry cameos. But the touchy-feely warmth feels jarring alongside a barbed gem of dialog such as Emily's yearning plea: "May the bridges I burn light my way."

themes, language 28.Apr.26

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