The Devil Wears Prada
Review by Fritz Esker
Here's what will be probably my final World Cup ramblings. As it has reached the semi-finals, I find my interest waning a bit. The same thing happens sometimes with the NCAA tournament, i.e. that the opening rounds are far more exciting than the final ones, when we are typically left with the usual powerhouses (Brazil is gone, but Germany, Italy, and France have all won World Cups and are routinely considered soccer powerhouses). Sadly, the one underdog/team that usually doesn't make the semis is Portugal, and this year's Portuguese team is arguably the most loathsome, underhanded soccer team I've ever seen. If Portugal ends up playing Italy in the final, I doubt I'd even watch. Go Germany, go France.
Basketball fans may remember Karl Malone winning the 1997 MVP, even though Michael Jordan was clearly a superior player having a superior season. A probable reason that journalists did not vote for Jordan that year is because he had been so good for so long that people almost stopped noticing how good he was. A similar phenomenon has happened with Meryl Streep. People don't seem to discuss Streep as much anymore as a great actress even though she has had no discernible loss of skill. In all likelihood, it is because she just keeps turning out one excellent performance after another and people have come to take her greatness for granted because she is consistent.
For those viewers who may have forgotten how amazing Streep is, David Frankel's The Devil Wears Prada is a good reminder. Based on Lauren Weisberger's 2003 novel, which may or may not have been based on Weisberger's experience as assistant to Vogue's Anna Wintour, the film tells the story of Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway), a recent journalism graduate from Northwestern University (one of the best journalism schools in the country) who finds herself in New York City and unable to find work in the publishing world other than as the second assistant to Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), the casually vicious and demanding editor of the fictional Runway magazine. Andy takes the job, determined to succeed despite Miranda's ridiculous daily demands, and she eventually does succeed, to the detriment of her personal life.
While the film's central theme of the costs incurred when one sacrifices one's personal life for a career is nothing new (that theme goes back at least to A Christmas Carol), Frankel's film tells an engaging variation on that theme and efficiently details each minor step Andy takes on the road to completely selling her soul in the name of success. It establishes the fundamental insanity of sacrificing life for work, especially when most jobs will only end up breaking your heart/stabbing you in the back anyway. One other thing the film does well is establish how many recent graduates, when taking a job straight out of college that is not exactly what they dreamed of, will frequently say so at their new place of employment, thereby insulting, perhaps inadvertently, everyone who does work there.
Streep does an outstanding job of humanizing an almost completely unlikable character. Without sugarcoating her character's inner ugliness, Streep conveys Miranda's intelligence, drive, and even a minor sense of loss at the sacrifices Miranda has made to get to the top. Similarly, the film shows the silliness of the fashion industry, such as the fact that Hathaway's character is derided as being "fat" when she first arrives, it also succeeds in showing the glamour and appeal that draws people in.
The film's other performers all do very fine jobs. Hathaway holds her on as the straight woman acting opposite Streep's force of nature and Stanley Tucci gives a memorable performance as Nigel, Miranda's right hand man.
Overall, The Devil Wears Prada is a solid, enjoyable piece of entertainment. Given the lackluster quality of most of its competition this summer, the fact that is even enjoyable makes it feel like a Best Picture contender.