The Devil Wears Prada

Though it’s certainly not difficult to predict precisely where The Devil Wears Prada is going to go over its 109-minute running time, there’s simply no denying the effectiveness of virtually every aspect of the production – with the end result a breezy, thoroughly engaging piece of work that’s probably far more entertaining than it has any right to be. Anne Hathaway stars as Andy Sachs, a would-be writer who takes on a job at a world-renown fashion magazine as an assistant to the imperious editor-in-chief (Meryl Streep). There’s little doubt that The Devil Wears Prada gets off to a fairly inauspicious start, as the film initially seems to be establishing Streep’s Miranda Priestly as an absurdly over-the-top caricature (eg she insists upon riding an elevator alone). As the movie progresses, however, Streep is afforded the opportunity to turn Miranda into a distinctly three-dimensional figure – a development that’s due in no small part to Streep’s expectedly masterful performance. It’s consequently not terribly surprising to note that the film works best when dealing with Andy’s work-related misadventures; virtually everything revolving around her personal life comes off as trite and melodramatic, particularly as her boyfriend (Adrian Grenier, in a thankless role) becomes increasingly aware of her change from aspiring reporter to bona fide fashionista. In the end, though, it’s virtually impossible not to be won over by the film’s slick sensibility and peppy performances (the feel-good ending is particularly effective).

***1/2 out of ****