The Devil wears...

9/10/06

Primark. Prada, it ain't! Even La Streep can't save this mess.

It’s a bit hard to swallow the notion that The Devil Wears Prada is a biting satire.

This best-seller turned Hollywood-blockbuster is sharply-produced but ultimately fails to ridicule the fashion world as hoped.

Instead, this film is nothing more than a cliché-filled 2-hour episode of Sex and the City, minus the humour. It makes no apology in its blatant promotion of the fashion world, a vicious realm that it unconvincingly sets out to denigrate.

The film is headlined by the genuinely frightening Meryl Streep, who plays Runway front-woman Miranda Preistley aka The Devil. The routinely impressive Streep may be the only reason to see this; she’s spot on in her performance as the cold-blooded editor from hell. However, her relentless malevolence is so intense at times, that it may make you feel physically ill.

Perhaps that's the intention, but it distracts from any pleasure of seeing this usually pleasure-to-watch actress.

While Streep turns out a memorable performance, the film is too caught up in trying to amuse its’ target audience (apparently sadistic teenage girls). The endless, unfunny quips about eating disorders and unacceptable dress sizes are too glib to actually yield anything interesting or original.

The problem is that the film is just as aggressive as its unlikeable one-dimensional characters – and apart from a promising opening sequence – it sadly falls flat.

Anne Hathaway has been unfortunately type-cast as the ugly duckling Andy, who ‘accidently’ ends up applying for the high-profile position as Miranda Priestley’s second assistant (“a positon most girls would die for”).

Predictably, she transforms into a workaholic, self-centred Miranda clone- complete with beautiful hair, hips, and heels.

Right on time, she becomes aware of the nasty metamophosis and her moral conscience kicks in…and you can guess the rest. This formula was best done in Heathers, only to be imitated by the Mean Girls, and now this mess.

And of course, every bitch has a soft side. Cue the bad music and the fake smiles. Forced efforts to make you feel sympathy for Miranda’s sarcastic, nasty minions, played by Stanley Tucci and Emily Blunt, may also make you wretch.

Only Streep pulls off a scene of mild vulnerability…but then again, since when should we feel sympathy for The Devil?

Obviously I felt pressured to like the movie, especially with La Streep in modus high camp but a combination of nauseous characters, cheesy music and a poorly written screenplay proved far too much. I’m still frustrated I didn’t walk out earlier.

If you’d like to watch a real parody of the fashion world, I highly recommend watching Funny Face (1957), with the most deliciously camp opening number "Think Pink.”