The Devil Wears Prada may have been directed
and marketed with pop-culture and artificial-sweetener
in mind, but it was written and performed with such
snarky conviction that it will have the rare ability to
appeal to both bubble-gum-popping teeny-boppers and
critical cineastes alike. The movie stars the
surprisingly (and finally!) terrific Anne Hathaway as
Andy Sachs, a young just-out-of-school journalist who
finds a job working for the editor-in-chief of the hip
fashion magazine Runway, Miranda Priestly (Meryl
Streep). Andy has no knowledge what’s fab and
what’s drab as euphemisms would say. Miranda’s
elitist views of style and glamour mixed with
unmistakably business-savvy shock her new assistant.
However, in an off-kilter presentation of the
traditional good-girl-gone-bad mold, Andy is soon
inevitably sucked into the vapid world of the commercial
fashion industry, instantly coming to disregard all of
her previous passions in the pursuit of perfection in
her new career.
As I hinted before, the film
is assembled in much the same way that a mindless
‘tween-targeted flick is; it is set to pop-music and is
the bearer of brightly colored sets and numerous
energetic montages. However, instead of becoming
irritating, director David Frankel’s seemingly
overindulgent style works due to its ability to reflect
the writer and cast’s display of the superficiality
found within the industry of the film’s focus.
In addition to the lovely and
identifiable Hathaway, Streep is also terrific as the
devious big-head Miranda in a supporting performance
that will deserve serious consideration come Oscar time.
Miranda’s overbearing behavior is often amusing, but
never ceases to be totally believable. Streep mixes
Corporate-Mentality and
Tacky-Middle-Aged-Woman-Mannerisms to create a character
that seems so horrifyingly familiar that the viewer is
forced to respond to her in a way that is primarily
expressive of biting hilarity. Screenwriter Aline Brosh
McKenna also deserves credit for the film’s overall
ingenuity, in an adaptation of the source-novel by
Lauren Weisberger.
Up until its final act, The
Devil Wears Prada is actually pretty great. In a
genre full of projects that lack any trace of wit, its
blend quirkiness and realism deserves recognition.
Unfortunately, its conclusion is far too syrupy for its
own good and robs the movie of the gusto displayed
during the majority of its run-time. (I should note,
however, that all throughout the film, I noticed an
abundance of strange continuity errors). Still, the
film’s weak finish proves to be only minutely
disappointing due to the true brilliance found in both
Hathaway and Streep’s performances. Because of their
inspired work, The Devil Wears Prada
consistently remains both involving and insightful.
-Danny, Bucket Reviews (7.16.2006)