The Devil Wears Prada 2, imperfect as it is, is actually a better movie than its predecessor. That’s not to say you’ll necessarily enjoy it more: this is one downer of a fashion fantasy, a movie that’s bracingly honest about both the state of magazines and how that affects our perception of fashion today. Directed by David Frankel and written by Aline Brosh McKenna—as the earlier movie was, with both based on characters created by Lauren Weisberger—The Devil Wears Prada 2 has some problems: there’s barely enough tension in the plot to hold the thing together, and while certain characters profess to care about serious journalism above all else, their heads are a little too easily turned by the allure of posh, and costly, New York real estate that few real journalists could ever afford. But there’s also something pleasingly and realistically melancholy about The Devil Wears Prada 2. The earlier film was all about catty remarks, put-upon underlings, and crazy outfits, an equation that made it a success. But The Devil Wears Prada didn’t love fashion at all; instead, it presented fashion as something ridiculous, deserving of our mockery. The Devil Wears Prada 2 is both more affectionate toward fashion and more fiercely protective of what, at its best, it can be. Even more broadly, it considers what it means to live in a world that seems to care more about chasing the next thrill than it does about the pursuit of beauty. As comedies go, it might make you a little miserable, especially if you care at all about fashion. But then, comedies exist not only to make us laugh, but to point us toward truths we might otherwise have trouble articulating. This is a movie that knows it’s chronicling the end of an era—kind of like The Leopard, but for fashion magazines.
