Twenty years after The Devil Wears Prada carved out a place in pop culture with its memorable characters, quotable dialogue, and swoon-worthy fashion, director David Frankel and writer Lauren Weisberger reunite to deliver the latest in a long line of nostalgia-driven sequels: The Devil Wears Prada 2.
To the film’s credit, all four of its marquee stars return to step into the (expensive, designer) shoes of their original characters: Anne Hathaway as unlikely ingenue Andy, Meryl Streep as her icy boss Miranda, Emily Blunt as Miranda’s manic, perpetually overworked assistant, and Stanley Tucci as her loyal second-in-command, Nigel.
But where the original film’s sharp writing and incisive wit were what made it a modern classic, the sequel’s script is flimsy, tonally confused, and threadbare: existing to ferry characters from one reference to another. “Florals for spring,” “That’s all,” the Chanel boots, Andy’s cerulean sweater are all invoked to crowd-pleasing effect, but in overloading the script with constant nods to its predecessor, The Devil Wears Prada 2 renders itself incapable of establishing its own identity.
It’s as if the characters have been frozen in time. Nobody has grown or changed in any substantial way, and it leaves the film feeling shallow and superficial, where the original boasted deceptive depth. Though the film’s anti-AI messaging is admirable and Blunt is (yet again) an undeniable scene-stealer, there’s nothing groundbreaking about the seam-ripped and upcycled sequel that is The Devil Wears Prada 2.
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