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The sequel, released 20 years after the original film, is geared towards women, who accounted for 75 percent of its ticket sales. The film knows its audience and, with the sequel, painted a designer-clad picture of a world where men are no longer needed. As the great Laura Dern said in the greatest movie of all time, Jurassic Park, “Dinosaurs eat man, woman inherits the earth.”
Let’s start at the top. Two decades have passed, and Miranda Priestley (Meryl Streep) is still one of the most iconic figures to ever grace the screen. Miranda is often painted as the titular devil, but that’s an oversimplification.
During a new episode of the On with Kara Swisher podcast—titled “Miranda Is Not the Villain—journalist Kara Swisher, who has a cameo as herself in the film, interviewed director David Frankel and screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna.
Frankel said he got the job in the first place because she never believed Miranda was a villain. “She’s trying to achieve excellence every day, and why does she have to be nice to accomplish that, you know?” he said. “There’s a long list of mostly men, of course, who are highly regarded for their work. They might be the GOATs of the business, and no one really questions how nice they are about accomplishing that.”
He added that Streep once told him that if her character were a man, there would be no movie.
The first movie wasn’t without its problems. It tried to wink at negative body stereotypes yet reinforced them. The cast was overwhelmingly white. It also overvalued the male characters and was miscategorized as a rom-com.
“It’s not a rom-com,” said Frankel of the original. It had some romance, yes. It had a lot of comedy. But the “romance” in the traditional sense, the triangle between Andy (Anne Hathaway), her mid boyfriend, and a hotshot (creepy) writer, wasn’t the core of the movie. Classifying it so weakens the point: The first movie was about growing up and following your dreams.
The sequel is about learning to live your dream within the confines of the system. Yet, it’s also a feminist utopia.
Miranda may not be a villain in the first movie, and she certainly isn’t in the second. Warning: Spoilers ahead.
In the first movie, Miranda’s livelihood was in the hands of an old white man, Irv (Tibor Feldman), who appears again as the big boss. Irv dies midway through the movie, and the fate of fictional magazine Runway is tossed between several men’s hands—first the smarmy son of Irv, played by B.J. Novak, then the unnerving Bezos/Musk mash-up, Benji Barnes, played by Justin Theroux.
However, the deus ex machina of the movie comes in the form of a lady, Barnes’ ex-wife, a philanthropic, artsy MacKensie Scott/Melina Gates proxy played by Lucy Liu.
The men aren’t even relevant enough to be the bad guys. While the billionaire boys play against each other, the true villain of the movie is the Lauren Sánchez-esque Emily (Emily Blunt). But even she finds redemption in the end, and she and Andy conclude the movie as friends.
Throughout the film, the men are supporting characters and nothing more. Stanley Tucci is back, and his Nigel is as encouraging and humble as ever. Barnes is dating Emily, who refers to him not as a lover or boyfriend but as a patron.
Both Andy and Miranda have helpful silver foxes in their corner, played by Patrick Brammall and Kenneth Branagh, respectively. The two leads’ significant others flit in and out of the story, opening doors, offering supportive hugs and pep talks, and causing little to no emotional turmoil, a pleasant change from the first movie, when a lot of time was spent on Andy and her boyfriends, and Miranda’s humanity only shows when her impending divorce devastates her.
Miranda, in particular, has a dynamic character change between the two movies. As Frankel explained it, “We’re seeing new colors from that character.”
Streep plays her softer, quicker to smile, more fluid in her movements. On the page, she’s written as more willing to learn from younger women.
Andy’s role in this story is to save Runway and, therefore, Miranda. Miranda’s new assistant (Simone Ashley) gives her gentle cues when she’s being fatphobic or otherwise speaking politically incorrectly, and, with a sigh, Miranda takes note, choosing to cause less harm. Yet she’s still the boss.
The movie’s relationship to motherhood is another point in the feminist column. Sequel Andy doesn’t mourn having prioritized her career over marriage and motherhood. But it’s not ignored, either.
With a bit of a shrug, Andy gives Emily the requisite exposition that, for the last couple of decades, she traveled all over “chasing stories” before landing back in NYC. Her eggs are frozen, but there’s no urgency.
Brosh McKenna said this character choice was insisted on by Hathaway herself. Andy has maintained her friendship with her friend Lily (Tracie Thomas) and is a fun auntie to her kid. It’s notable that Lily is a successful curator and lives in a gorgeous NYC apartment, but we never see a partner, which suggests she doesn’t rely on one to live.
Notably, the Andy character’s problematic boyfriend, Nate, played by Entourage’s Adrien Grenier, is not only nowhere to be seen, but had a superfluous cameo cut from the sequel.
Swisher asked the director and screenwriter if the answer to the question of the original film, “whether professional success is worth the tremendous personal sacrifice,” has changed.
In the first iteration, the answer was no, but the director and writer agreed that the work is worth it now, with the caveat that “the system is not going to care about you,” and that you need to do your best within the parameters you’re given.
Toward the end of the movie, Miranda mentions that she sacrificed time with her kids to stay at the top of her career and, with a smile, speaks about how much she loves her work. Andy agrees, if a little tentatively. She’s not ready to go full Miranda, but she’s not about to feel guilty for her life choices.
While the director has said they didn’t want the new film to feel like a “retread,” the sequel is absolutely formulaic. Its story beats mirror the first movie all the way to the last word—“Go.”
However, the real innovation here is that The Devil Wears Prada 2 has given us a complex view of adult women’s relationships and their own relationships with themselves, and leaves us with happy, successful women—none of whom are holding grudges against each other (except Lady Gaga, who has a comedic feud with Miranda).
The filmmakers discussed how difficult it is to make a living in journalism nowadays (Don’t we all know!), yet all our main characters end the movie with dream jobs and nice offices.
The romance of the movie is that, while it is impossible to “have it all,” if you help each other instead of stepping on people on your way to the top, you can have a pretty excellent life—no men needed or even particularly wanted. Realistic? No. But that’s the magic of the movie.
How ‘The Devil Wears Prada 2’ Made Men Irrelevant
The Devil Wears Prada 2 catwalked into theaters this weekend and was number one at the box office, bringing in $77 million domestically and $233 million worldwide during its first weekend, despite mixed reviews—including from the Daily Beast’s Obsessed.The sequel, released 20 years after the original film, is geared towards women, who accounted for 75 percent of its ticket sales. The film knows its audience and, with the sequel, painted a designer-clad picture of a world where men are no longer needed. As the great Laura Dern said in the greatest movie of all time, Jurassic Park, “Dinosaurs eat man, woman inherits the earth.”
Let’s start at the top. Two decades have passed, and Miranda Priestley (Meryl Streep) is still one of the most iconic figures to ever grace the screen. Miranda is often painted as the titular devil, but that’s an oversimplification.
During a new episode of the On with Kara Swisher podcast—titled “Miranda Is Not the Villain—journalist Kara Swisher, who has a cameo as herself in the film, interviewed director David Frankel and screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna.
Frankel said he got the job in the first place because she never believed Miranda was a villain. “She’s trying to achieve excellence every day, and why does she have to be nice to accomplish that, you know?” he said. “There’s a long list of mostly men, of course, who are highly regarded for their work. They might be the GOATs of the business, and no one really questions how nice they are about accomplishing that.”
He added that Streep once told him that if her character were a man, there would be no movie.
The first movie wasn’t without its problems. It tried to wink at negative body stereotypes yet reinforced them. The cast was overwhelmingly white. It also overvalued the male characters and was miscategorized as a rom-com.
“It’s not a rom-com,” said Frankel of the original. It had some romance, yes. It had a lot of comedy. But the “romance” in the traditional sense, the triangle between Andy (Anne Hathaway), her mid boyfriend, and a hotshot (creepy) writer, wasn’t the core of the movie. Classifying it so weakens the point: The first movie was about growing up and following your dreams.
The sequel is about learning to live your dream within the confines of the system. Yet, it’s also a feminist utopia.
Miranda may not be a villain in the first movie, and she certainly isn’t in the second. Warning: Spoilers ahead.
In the first movie, Miranda’s livelihood was in the hands of an old white man, Irv (Tibor Feldman), who appears again as the big boss. Irv dies midway through the movie, and the fate of fictional magazine Runway is tossed between several men’s hands—first the smarmy son of Irv, played by B.J. Novak, then the unnerving Bezos/Musk mash-up, Benji Barnes, played by Justin Theroux.
However, the deus ex machina of the movie comes in the form of a lady, Barnes’ ex-wife, a philanthropic, artsy MacKensie Scott/Melina Gates proxy played by Lucy Liu.
The men aren’t even relevant enough to be the bad guys. While the billionaire boys play against each other, the true villain of the movie is the Lauren Sánchez-esque Emily (Emily Blunt). But even she finds redemption in the end, and she and Andy conclude the movie as friends.
Throughout the film, the men are supporting characters and nothing more. Stanley Tucci is back, and his Nigel is as encouraging and humble as ever. Barnes is dating Emily, who refers to him not as a lover or boyfriend but as a patron.
Both Andy and Miranda have helpful silver foxes in their corner, played by Patrick Brammall and Kenneth Branagh, respectively. The two leads’ significant others flit in and out of the story, opening doors, offering supportive hugs and pep talks, and causing little to no emotional turmoil, a pleasant change from the first movie, when a lot of time was spent on Andy and her boyfriends, and Miranda’s humanity only shows when her impending divorce devastates her.
Miranda, in particular, has a dynamic character change between the two movies. As Frankel explained it, “We’re seeing new colors from that character.”
Streep plays her softer, quicker to smile, more fluid in her movements. On the page, she’s written as more willing to learn from younger women.
Andy’s role in this story is to save Runway and, therefore, Miranda. Miranda’s new assistant (Simone Ashley) gives her gentle cues when she’s being fatphobic or otherwise speaking politically incorrectly, and, with a sigh, Miranda takes note, choosing to cause less harm. Yet she’s still the boss.
The movie’s relationship to motherhood is another point in the feminist column. Sequel Andy doesn’t mourn having prioritized her career over marriage and motherhood. But it’s not ignored, either.
With a bit of a shrug, Andy gives Emily the requisite exposition that, for the last couple of decades, she traveled all over “chasing stories” before landing back in NYC. Her eggs are frozen, but there’s no urgency.
Brosh McKenna said this character choice was insisted on by Hathaway herself. Andy has maintained her friendship with her friend Lily (Tracie Thomas) and is a fun auntie to her kid. It’s notable that Lily is a successful curator and lives in a gorgeous NYC apartment, but we never see a partner, which suggests she doesn’t rely on one to live.
Notably, the Andy character’s problematic boyfriend, Nate, played by Entourage’s Adrien Grenier, is not only nowhere to be seen, but had a superfluous cameo cut from the sequel.
Swisher asked the director and screenwriter if the answer to the question of the original film, “whether professional success is worth the tremendous personal sacrifice,” has changed.
In the first iteration, the answer was no, but the director and writer agreed that the work is worth it now, with the caveat that “the system is not going to care about you,” and that you need to do your best within the parameters you’re given.
Toward the end of the movie, Miranda mentions that she sacrificed time with her kids to stay at the top of her career and, with a smile, speaks about how much she loves her work. Andy agrees, if a little tentatively. She’s not ready to go full Miranda, but she’s not about to feel guilty for her life choices.
While the director has said they didn’t want the new film to feel like a “retread,” the sequel is absolutely formulaic. Its story beats mirror the first movie all the way to the last word—“Go.”
However, the real innovation here is that The Devil Wears Prada 2 has given us a complex view of adult women’s relationships and their own relationships with themselves, and leaves us with happy, successful women—none of whom are holding grudges against each other (except Lady Gaga, who has a comedic feud with Miranda).
The filmmakers discussed how difficult it is to make a living in journalism nowadays (Don’t we all know!), yet all our main characters end the movie with dream jobs and nice offices.
The romance of the movie is that, while it is impossible to “have it all,” if you help each other instead of stepping on people on your way to the top, you can have a pretty excellent life—no men needed or even particularly wanted. Realistic? No. But that’s the magic of the movie.
