Miranda Priestly isn’t the queen bitch she used to be in The Devil Wears Prada 2. Runway’s editor-in-chief, played once again with flair by Meryl Streep, is no longer the fashion world’s taste-making terror. Gone are the days when she could throw the biggest designers into despair, when the entire Elias-Clarke building trembled at the sound of her stilettos click-clacking on the office floor, or when even her own boss, Irv Ravitz, catered to her every whim (thanks to some gentle blackmailing, of course).
Miranda is now the one doing all the kowtowing. As Anne Hathaway’s Andy — and us, by proxy — are shocked to find out, Miranda has learned how to bow to her corporate overlords. She immediately agrees to advertisers forcing her to give them six pages of ads in the latest print issue (with a branded feature, no less!), and she says nothing when the suits from high up — grimey little Harvard grad finance bros wearing Arc’teryx puffer vests — call her things like “Miranda Beastly” (good God). And, to make matters so much worse, she must now hang up her coats and bagson her own.
Granted, Miranda’s new leaf makes for far fewer HR complaints (no more terrorizing poor, unsuspecting assistants!). But this former fashion god didn’t make these changes willingly. Publishing has changed, both in the movie’s universe and IRL. Ask any writer, editor, or publisher, and they’ll tell you that stories can no longer just be worth reading (because who still reads, anyway?). As Stanley Tucci’s Nigel so aptly put it, content must now be “downloadable,” “streamable,” “clickable,” or else they’ll be lost in the yawn of the digital ether. Miranda’s beloved Runway now hides behind a digital paywall, and its print issue is a ghost of the couture bible it once was. After years of setting the global cultural standard, Miranda no longer recognizes the industry she sold her soul to build.
Saving Grace
And so, as a sort of Hail Mary, Andy Sachs returns to Runway. While Miranda has spent the last two decades trying to keep her magazine alive, Andy has grown to become quite a seasoned writer. She is much more confident now, and the movie even opens with her earning an award for her efforts as an investigative journalist.
When Andy is asked to come on as Runway’s features editor, there’s an interesting dynamic that takes place between her and Miranda. Yes, there are still moments when Andy falters under her former/current boss’s icy gaze (which I find a little hard to believe, considering how she’s grown so much professionally in the past 20 years). But the two are sort of equals now, and they both share the same goal. Their job is to put out a magazine that still matters, despite the many outside forces telling them that publishing is a thing of yesteryear.
As cynical as we may have all become about the state of writing, literacy, attention spans, and an audience that continues to seek out clickable content, The Devil Wears Prada 2 surprisingly has much to say about where publishing can still go next.
But is their gumption enough? As Andy quickly finds out, only “other culture writers” seem to actually be reading the essays and profiles she puts out. Everything is about optics now, and, although a select few care about the narrative voice she’s trying to create at Runway, this features editor often finds herself still trying to appease her rich, tasteless oligarchs.
And my god, are there oligarchs. Beyond the McKinsey suits throwing around their strategies on how to optimize Runway’s metrics (whatever that means), there are new players in the fate of the magazine. There’s B.J. Novak’s Jay Ravitz, the company’s heir apparent, who is much more concerned with profitability (and giving Miranda fist bumps) than editorial work. And there’s Justin Theroux’s Benji Barnes, a tech bro billionaire who has quite the take on AI’s place in the writers’ room. While the movie definitely still has much of the glitz and glamor that made the original so iconic, this sequel sees Miranda, Andy, and the rest of Runway move with the shadow of their capitalist czars looming over them.
Now, despite dedicating an hour and a half to showing us just how dire the situation is at Runway, the movie decides to pivot to a more optimistic third act. This may or may not split audiences (especially if you know how accurate the film’s critique of the publishing industry is), but there’s definitely a lot of wish fulfillment going on in those final thirty minutes. Without giving too much away, the grand climax involves a massive, red-carpet runway in Milan, a new musical number from Lady Gaga (who, rather appropriately, has beef with Miranda), and a delightful helicopter ride that whisks our heroines away to glory.
Try as I might, I can’t fault how hopeful the film gets about running a magazine, particularly in the age of AI, SEO, and ads, ads, ads galore. There is something so admirable about how Miranda and Andy — a highly unlikely duo, but we all knew they’d find each other in the end — work so hard to maintain a publication that refuses to die. To them, print will never be dead, and there will always be a place for stories that matter. As cynical as we may have all become about the state of writing, literacy, attention spans, and an audience that continues to seek out clickable content, The Devil Wears Prada 2 surprisingly has much to say about where publishing can still go next.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 is now in Philippine cinemas.
