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The
Fashionistas THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA: Directed by David Frankel. Screenplay by Aline Brosh McKenna. Based on the novel by Lauren Weisberger. Starring Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Stanley Tucci, Simon Baker, Emily Blunt and Adrian Grenier. Fox 2000, 2006. PG-13. 109 minutes.
If ever there was a chance to parade expensive, beautiful clothing across a giant screen, you'd think The Devil Wears Prada, a Cinderella-in-Manolos tale based on Lauren Weisberger's bestselling novel, would be it. Our heroine, Andy Sachs (the endearing Anne Hathaway), lands a job at Runway magazine as assistant to Editor-in-Chief Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), whose opinion is fashion law. So these folks should be wearing some impressive garments, no? Alas. High fashion may not be known for its commitment to elegance and simplicity, but the outfits in which Hathaway and Streep stalk through Prada are often so garish you may begin to wonder if the film's take on the fashion industry consists simply of allowing it to point out its own questionable taste. (Though according to "The Duds of The Devil Wears Prada" in last week's New York Times, fashion folks aren't particularly enamored of the film's style either.) Miranda Priestly is the boss from hell. She goes through assistants like basketball players go through shoes; she throws her befurred and bespangled coats and bags on their desks, rattles off obscene to-do lists, refuses to answer questions and dismisses them with a brisk, falsely sweet, "That's all" that makes you shudder in sympathy. Though Andy doesn't look the part, Miranda hires her for the job "a million girls would kill for." Andy, we're told, is fat, frumpy and style-free. Hathaway is none of the above; she's willowy, wide-eyed and possessed of a remarkable array of enviable winter coats. Andy also has a pair of good friends and a sweet boyfriend (starry-eyed Adrian Grenier, from "Entourage") who worry and disapprove when Andy's job takes over her life. Her fellow assistant Emily (Emily Blunt) is starving herself, eating a cube of cheese whenever she feels she might faint, because size 0 is the new size 2. Size 6 — Andy's size — is the new 14. So says Nigel (a very likable Stanley Tucci), who plays the fairy godmother role, taking Andy to the Runway closet and loading her up with the aforementioned gaudy high-fashion duds. Streep is undeniably fantastic, steely and regal, but as good as she is, you get the feeling she could do this in her sleep. When the movie gives her the obligatory the-ice-queen-is-human-too scene, she's heartbreaking, virtually unable to give her personal problems precedence over work concerns. For a moment, the film allows for the possibility that Miranda's tough persona is simply the only way for her to do her job as well as she must do it. But sympathy for the devil is short-lived. A few scenes later, Andy's learning her tidy little lesson: She doesn't want to make such sacrifices for this kind of job. Well, duh, sweetie. Lightweight and predictable, Prada has a few laughs and more than a few fine performances. But it's got nothing to say, except perhaps to suggest that even the most idealistic would-be journalist would consider selling her soul for a fashionably appointed closet. The movie happily accepts the fashion industry's obsession with super-skinny women (Andy is a proud size 4 by film's end), offers only the slightest insight into Miranda and never satisfyingly addresses the glaringly obvious question of why Andy doesn't just quit after a week. But without her misery and (possibly misplaced) determination, there'd be no movie. Prada is fluff, but at least it's well-acted fluff — if you want to escape into a world where only a size 0 is welcome.
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