The Devil Wears Prada (2006)

Short: Recent journalism graduate Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) is offered a position as notorious "Runway" editor-in-chief Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep)'s second assistant. Although it doesn't line up with her career goals, Andy decides to take the job "millions of girls would kill for."

Confession: I've never read Lauren Weisberger's novel, but I know the Vogue/Wintour backstory.

And, based on this movie, I never want to read it. Stupid piece of shit, it must be. And why? Because it's impossible to sympathize with the protagonist.

The movie begins with a somewhat racy montage of women, including Andy, getting ready for work. Ladies are carefully choosing their every article, from outer- to underwear and top to bottom. Andy? Grabs pretty much any old thing from her closet. Okay, you think, they are setting up a contrast. I get it.

But, no, it couldn't possibly end there. Women are carefully selecting their breakfast foods (let's side step how ridiculously degrading this part was); Andy stops on her way to the interview to buy an onion bagel loaded with cream cheese. I already picked up on the contrast, but I guess we need to hammer it home for the slow ones in the audience (like the two older ladies sitting behind us. No, seriously, you two. Shut. Up.) But the problem with this part of the contrast isn't that Andy is chowing down, it's what she eats and when. She eats something that anyone would reasonably expect to stink up their breath, and she does it after she's out of the house. While she's on the way to an interview! Stinky breath is no way to make a good impression, and anyone with two brain cells to rub together knows that.

Oh, but then. Yes, there's more. We see all these various girls in various outfits doing what? Hailing cabs. I roll my eyes. "No, no. Just don't. Don't," I try to tell the movie. But it does. It just has to, doesn't it? Andy takes the subway. Listen to me, people: there's nothing wrong with taking a cab to make sure that you are on-time for an interview. Nothing at all. If you are going to take public transportation, I recommend that you take the bus before the bus you think you need in order to make it there early. You're welcome.

By the time "our" "heroine" is informing Miranda that she knows neither Priestly nor Runway and "everyone just calls [her] Andy," while Miranda is doesn't even bother with an eyeroll, I know all I need to know about both characters: Andy is unprofessional, whiny, and refuses to take responsibility for herself. Miranda is my hero.

As cruel and ruthless as Miranda is supposed to be and as Streep makes her, she also gives her an electric spark that no other character comes close to matching in this lifeless, paint-by-numbers piece. Barely raising her voice above a whisper-hush and fabulously flopping her coat and bag down on Andy's desk every morning, Streep also injects more humanity and pathos into her role than Hathaway manages for the whole of the film.

I don't blame Hathaway, specifically. Part of it is that she's overmatched and part of it is that Aline Brosh McKenna's script gives her nothing to work with and part of it is David Frankel's dull direction. The friendship dress down, the relationship trouble, and the eventual Kelly Taylor "I choose me" moment fail to feel earned, much less sensical. Most people take not quite the right job right out of college and put up with a lot for the reward. Why her friends and boyfriend think they are above it is beyond me.

Oh, and thanks to Stanley Tucci for being such a delight as fashion editor Nigel. Most men would have taken him to hammy heights, but Tucci keeps him grounded.

Patricia Fields' (of Sex and the City fame) costume design is alternatingly maddening and enviable. Just thought you might want to know.

I know that you might be thinking that it's supposed to be a trifle, but I don't think I am taking it too seriously. The movie barely does what it sets out to do, and that's a serious problem. Good thing Streep's around. B -