Earlier this month, while the Tories were finally leaving office and a faint breath of a happier future glistened temptingly on the horizon, it was announced that a sequel to the 2006 film The Devil Wears Prada was in the works. The story will allegedly centre on antagonist Miranda Priestley, as iconically portrayed by Meryl Streep, as she navigates the decline of print media, clashing with her former assistant Emily (Emily Blunt) who now runs a luxury goods company and has advertising money to spare. Re-watching the original recently, it hasn’t lost a bit of its genius. It’s a masterpiece in structure, character and dialogue, with a stellar cast; no scene is wasted, and the writing is sharp and funny. There are some flaws; we are supposed to believe beautiful and thin actress Anne Hathaway is initially a dowdy nerd, having been put in an unflattering wig and padded round the middle, before becoming thin and glamourous almost instantaneously in a makeover montage. The gags and references to her weight are cruel and unnecessary too, but sadly reflective of the weight-obsessed culture at a high-end fashion magazine, although one would hope slightly less so in 2024.
In general however, the film holds up brilliantly; you can see why it made $327.7 million on a $41 million budget. It was so successful there was discussion of it becoming a TV show in the year after its release, although this never came to fruition – but since then Anne Hathaway has been asked constantly about the possibility of a sequel, which she has repeatedly dismissed, and as yet she has not announced an appearance in this upcoming film. Time will tell whether she will change her mind (I’d imagine there’s a stupendous amount of money on the table for even a cameo) and if she doesn’t, whether it was the right decision. A musical adaptation is already coming to London this autumn, starring Vanessa Williams (essentially reprising her Ugly Betty character Wilhelmina Slater, a show that owes a lot to the film and sadly shares much of the same attitude to weight. It’ll be interesting to see if this is makes it into the show. ) In many ways, a musical is the perfect way to re-enter the world of Runway; it’s an exciting new medium but with the same beloved characters and presumably, a la Mean Girls, the same beloved and famous lines. As in the film world, using existing intellectual property with a strong nostalgic element is the dream in terms of making new(ish) art while minimising financial risk. (Since I originally wrote this piece, a musical adaptation of 13 Going On 30 has been announced.) However in this case, I do think a musical could be an exciting re-invention, while providing a great lead role for Vanessa Williams and other older actresses (will Imelda Staunton attempt it if it runs for long enough? Let’s hope so. She’s completed the classics) Re-entering the world and making a new film is much riskier.
Here are some issues I think that the writers will encounter:
1. No Andy
There’s really no reason for Andy to appear in this film. She joined the Runway world, grew as a person, and exited for new opportunities. Emily and Miranda were great antagonists who both grew to develop a grudging respect for her despite their differences, but we necessarily gained little insight into their inner lives. Miranda’s brief disclosure of sadness when Andy discovers her divorce is notable in its singularity, because it’s the only moment the audience sees her as human. In some ways, Nigel (Stanley Tucci) would be an interesting character for the audience to root for, but given that he was hoping to leave Runway for new horizons and a personal life – which Miranda stymies in the film to save her own skin – it’s not clear where he would fit in.
2. The Focus
Centring the decline of print media switches the focus of the original from the fish out of water narrative in a glamourous and seductive world to a film based around the machinations of that world, which makes for an entirely different movie. We don’t see a great deal of Miranda actually working in the original; there’s the infamous blue belt scene, the staff visit to James Holt’s studio where he showcases his upcoming designs, and the staff meeting with Nigel (‘Florals for spring? Groundbreaking.’) The drama at the end of the film in which Miranda is nearly ousted from Runway is necessary because it shows Andy’s unironic dedication to Miranda, and the latter’s ultimate ruthlessness in sacrificing Nigel to save herself. In general, it’s more important that the audience is given a sense of her exacting taste, huge power within the industry, and the fear and loyalty she inspires, than the day to day work it takes to be an editor-in-chief. The changed power dynamic between Emily and Miranda would add interest, but it’s challenging to see how it would sustain an entire film. It may be that the writers choose to add an Andy proxy, who is learning the ropes in today’s Runway, but this risks exposing the absence of Hathaway’s ingenue charm even more. The novelty of a character suddenly immersed in a new environment has been lost, and it’s tricky to find a compelling replacement.
———————————————————————————————-
It would be remiss to write about TDWP without mentioning one of the great quandaries of our time: is Andy’s boyfriend Nate the villain? Initially, I was willing to give him some grace. At the beginning of the film, Andy starts her new job and is horrified by the materialism and poor workplace culture, particularly Miranda’s dismissive and ungrateful management. Nate agrees, and her friends joke about the irony of someone who cares so little about fashion working at such a place. A little later, we see them take her phone and toss it around as it rings with a call from Miranda, joking and laughing despite Andy’s obvious stress (and her just having bestowed extensive and valuable freebies on them.) Nate is more of a bystander in this scene; but we do see him seduced by Andy in her new clothes, first in the street, and later in their apartment after he prepares a nice dinner in anticipation of her quitting which she has then decided against – even though he claims he prefers Andy’s old clothes and by extension, the Andy that went along with them.
Their relationship really starts to suffer when she misses his birthday because she unexpectedly has to accompany Miranda and Emily to a gala, where the latter’s heavy cold lets Andy take the upper hand as she recalls a guest’s name for Miranda, despite being given minimal notice to learn them. Then, when she meets Nate at their friend Lily’s (Tracie Thom) art show – after a sexually charged encounter with Christian – he accuses her of sacrificing her integrity and becoming an unironic part of the Runway world. He has the self-awareness to admit that his job as a junior chef is not saving the world either – quite apart from the unsociable hours that presumably come with it, just like Andy’s – but it’s fair to say that by this stage in the film Andy has become very invested in her job. Given the stress and stakes of the role, it doesn’t seem unreasonable, although she has perhaps begun to fulfil her duties with 100% commitment rather than a degree of ironic separation, as previously. But at the same time, she’s started to see results and is able to hold her own.
At this stage, I had Nate down as being neither completely reasonable or unreasonable. He accuses her of losing her integrity, which seems a little rich – she’s no longer doing her job ironically and therefore succeeding at it. But Lily, who sees the encounter with Christian, also accuses Andy of changing, saying she now cares more about fashion than Nate and being on time to her art show and by extension, her. Both Lily and Nate seem to equate Andy starting to care about and succeed at her job with her sacrificing her values, but only because of the inherent shallowness of the Runway world. Arguably, Andy could’ve communicated better that she is just trying to prove herself in order to take full advantage of the opportunity, and has got a little sucked in, which given her workload wouldn’t be entirely surprising. She reacts angrily to being accused by Nate that she has become a Runway girl, because she also sees it as a failure of her values and integrity. After her arguments with Lily and then Nate, they agree on a break and she goes to Paris and finally has a one-night stand with Christian. (The fact that he turns out to be too good to be true is presumably meant to underscore the extent to which her judgement has failed.)
Later, in the aftermath of Andy’s departure from the magazine, she meets Nate for a coffee.
ANDY: You were right about everything. I turned my back on my friends and my family and everything I believed in. And for what?
NATE: For shoes. For shirts. For jackets, for belts…
ANDY: Nate. I’m sorry.
Not only does Andy not blame Nate at all, she entirely blames herself for forgetting what was important to her. But it’s made clear at the start that a year working for Miranda would allow her to write her own ticket in New York, so while she could apologise for letting things slide, this seems a step too far. What really irritated me was seeing Nate again make the point that she was seduced by the glamour and materialism of her job.
Firstly, it wasn’t really unreasonable for her to be a little sucked in by the world of fashion once she was actually wearing the designer outfits and beginning to find her feet, even if previously she has prided herself on her knowing distance from the clothes Runway sells and her colleagues wear. She asks Nigel for a makeover because she now recognises the status they hold. Nate also grudgingly admires her outfits multiple times. Secondly, while Andy wants to be a ‘serious’ writer, any entry-level experience has value, particularly some at Runway. It’s particularly galling that Nate follows this up by announcing that he has been offered a sous-chef role at a fancy restaurant in Boston; his grunt work making port wine reductions has finally paid off with a move up the ladder.
The final death knell in any rehabilitation for me was his reaction to Andy’s announcement that she has an interview that day. Nate says jokingly ‘And that’s what you’re wearing?’ It suggests it’s a vindication for him to succeed after putting in long hours and menial work, but not for her, because her previous experience is in fashion – which she hasn’t learnt anything from either, otherwise she’d be dressed better.
Verdict:
Nate is a villain.
Irredeemably so. They leave things on good terms, with Nate suggesting he could still make Andy’s favourite grilled cheeses for her in Boston – but it’s assumed this won’t happen because of her job offer in the next scene. Good for Andy. A sous-chef requires just as many miserable hours despite the slightly higher status, so hopefully he finds an unambitious Bostonian girlfriend with a stay at home, part-time job.
Her friends = possibility of redemption.
They embrace the perks of Andy’s position, but aren’t forgiving when she struggles to prioritise and actually tries hard. Lily wants to have her cake and eat it when she accepts free stuff but accuses Andy of changing by having learnt about fashion. But as with Nate, Andy could have communicated better. It’s surprising that Lily and Nate, both in industries that typically require a lot of minimally paid and thankless work before any success, are so quick to judge. It adds to Andy’s alienation that none of her friends and family understand how important and all-consuming her job feels despite its surface mundanity, but it ultimately means they seem ignorant (even more so in 2024, when endless free or poorly paid work is the minimum for launching a journalism career – then your publication will go bust or be absorbed into GQ.) We don’t see any more of Andy’s friends after her fight with Lily though – and Doug (Rich Summer) only appears in the freebie scene – so while they certainly don’t cover themselves in glory, they function more as reinforcements of Nate’s feelings and Andy’s alienation than stand-alone characters. In the original book, Lily is a very different and more complex character and overall, Andy is given a richer personal life, despite her lack of time for it.
I’d recommend reading the book, because it also really captures the relentlessness of the role (Book Andy is constantly exhausted and repeatedly reminds herself that she only has to last a year. It also has some classic examples of 2000s content that would now be immediately cut on the first edit, such as when Andy’s colleague tells her he had a one-night stand with an attractive man he met at a bar, and she responds ‘This is the age of AIDS, you know.’
———————————————————————————————-
I have to admit, after writing this piece and thinking more about the what makes the film so good, I’m still intrigued by the idea of a sequel; but history has proven the thrill of a seeing iconic roles being reprised is not enough to sustain a whole movie. Fortunately, Nate probably won’t be in it.