Have you ever scrolled past short videos that caution you about the evils of doomscrolling and brainrot? The dangers of modern day capitalism and consumerism? The over-consumptive nature of our uninspired population? Despite the artificial nature of these videos, they do contain a kernel of truth. You almost want to believe these people because their simple observations about our degraded modern-day society are so true and self-evident. Who today doesn’t bat an eye at our grocery and gas prices, or at the rise of artificial intelligence and the enshittification of our applications?
We’re inclined to believe these hypocrites, until these same people try to sell you on their own version of these evils — like a subscription-based service to monitor your subscriptions or an app to block your other apps. These companies point fingers at what’s ailing the world while simultaneously poisoning the well and profiting from their user base. Unfortunately, “The Devil Wears Prada 2” finds itself deep within this well, a belated and unnecessary sequel to the original film that attempts to criticize larger social issues but, ultimately, is a gear in the same machinery which propels mindless consumption.
Look no further at this film’s failure than the biggest story change from the original to the sequel: Taking place 20 years after the original, Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) is now a journalist. In the opening scene, we see Andy as an accomplished writer who has received an award for her journalistic prowess. Yet, at her award ceremony, Andy hears news that her entire newsroom has been laid off for ‘corporate efficiencies.’
This is an interesting set-up, and the film reunites Andy with familiar faces as she writes for the magazine Runway under Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) and Nigel Kipling (Stanley Tucci) to make a living post lay off. Over the course of two hours, we see Andy ingratiate herself within the coarse, tough environment of Runway, making inroads all while corporate interests, hoping to shrink journalism even further, surround her. The film comments on real life recent events like Teen Vogue magazine transitioning to a digital-only publication and the ongoing collapse of the journalism industry. Grappling with an increasingly digitized and technologically dependent world, the initial conflict of the film seems to focus on the fight to keep the journalism industry — whether it be the news or a fashion magazine — alive and printing.
However, the film’s initial promise of enlightening viewers on this critically encroaching issue quickly devolves into a nonsensical mess of rich, privileged people (somehow always suave and wearing cat-eye sunglasses) vying for power and fame. Take for instance: Andy getting an interview with Sasha Barnes (Lucy Liu), the elusive but once highly publicized philanthropist. At this point in the film, Andy is in dire straits with Miranda because her socially conscious articles are underperforming. In order to keep her job, she needs to chase viewership and sets out to interview Barnes; but we get a sense that Barnes is impossible to get a hold of.
This creates a significant obstacle for Andy, and likely for many journalists: the decision between writing biting criticism and churning out mindless, unsubstantial hits. Navigating such a tough situation could be a great moment of character development for Andy and give room for the film to comment on the vacuous nature of sensational, viewership-based journalism. Instead, Barnes randomly decides to give Runway an interview over a shoddy montage sequence, granting Andy the much needed break in her career. The journalistic dilemma disappears entirely from the film when Barnes claims that she only accepted such an interview because Andy has been writing good articles. Worse, Barnes’ help doesn’t make sense thematically since it abides by the premise of meritocracy: The capitalistic idea that if you do good enough work, you will be rewarded. However, these are the very same ideals that the opening of the film proves cannot survive when wealthy elites control corporations and the media.
The happy ending of “The Devil Wears Prada 2” only reinforces the thematic mess at hand as a rich donor saves Andy and Runway from their terrible scenario with a massive donation. The film doesn’t even begin to question what makes these rich people different from the very one that axed her entire crew in the opening. Ultimately, “The Devil Wears Prada 2” is a phony attempt at activism — having things to say about the world but not understanding the root cause of them. The film tries its hardest to warn us about the livelihoods that are lost during media consolidation — when AI replaces creative work or when austere business consultants butt in to increase the bottom line. But in its efforts to continually make jibes at our efficiency-maximizing society, one that doesn’t have time to appreciate art, the film proves to be a cash-grab of a film itself, with no solution and no value for the art it claims to defend.
The original “The Devil Wears Prada” follows Andy’s coming-of-age journey on identity, purpose and finding personal style. The film was about losing and reclaiming yourself amid distractions like dazzling lights and designer boots. The sequel has done the exact opposite in its attempt to make itself more relevant and impactful, contradicting its arguments about consumerism it sought to preach. In essence, “The Devil Wears Prada 2” has tried to carve a greater purpose and message from the blinding lights of modern-day society but found itself totally lost within it.
As a result, “The Devil Wears Prada 2” is not only incoherent but also downright boring. Like the Barnes-interview obstacle, Andy doesn’t suffer from any prolonged conflict, anything that pains her for more than five minutes. In fact, no character does. There are multiple storylines, such as Andy’s romance with Peter (Patrick Brammall), the return of Emily Charlton (Emily Blunt) fighting for corporate eliteness and Nigel trying to prove his worth, to name a few.
Yet it’s hard to believe the authenticity of these people’s plights when everything is resolved in a quick montage that should belong to a fashion reel rather than a film one. There is nothing of note: not the redundant performances from Streep, Tucci, Hathaway, and Blunt; not the lackluster, wardrobe-obsessed cinematography, and most definitely not the character ‘development.’ The result? A film that feels like it was born out of corporate interests, one that feels like austere business consultants wrote it, a film that, dare we say, feels created by AI.
Daily Arts Writers Ben Luu and Michelle Wu can be reached at benllv@umich.edu and michewu@umich.edu.
