The Devil Wears Prada (2006, USA)

Ugh. I liked this movie much better when it was leaner, meaner, and called Swimming with Sharks. Despite a fun performance by Stanley Tucci (Can he be cast in every movie, ever? Thanks.), I found very little to recommend The Devil Wears Prada. The heroine is not worth rooting for, it’s neither terribly funny nor a bit romantic, and Streep’s lauded performance is little more than a fairly rote ice-queen number, despite the weak attempt to grant her a sliver of humanity in the third act.

But what really drove me up the wall? The gender politics, particularly as telegraphed by the film’s ending. The heroine’s ultimate triumphs are intended to be twofold – first, she regains the love of her ex-boyfriend by admitting that she was wrong about all of the decisions that she made over the course of the film. And this is supposed to mean exactly what to the audience? If the only Andy the movie ever gives us is morally compromised, then why exactly are we supposed to care? The second part is just as difficult – Andy finally gains the ultimate sign of approval from her boss, but she never actually sees it. Streep’s seldom-granted smile is kept private, so the heroine has to make do with a much smaller triumph – a bitchy job recommendation. There is no suture between daughter and mother figures – Andy may have left the nest, but nothing has really changed in the world of catty, evil women that she leaves behind. Perhaps the worst thing about the ending is that these two threads – the romantic and the career – aren’t compatible in any way. Andy tells her boyfriend that she made the wrong career choices, but those are the very same choices that end up landing her the real dream job? What? The only sense I can make of the dénouement is that young women really can have it all, but only if they completely internalize their moral compromises and self-delusion. Yay!