I admit it without any delay: ever since news of the sequel to The Devil Wears Prada began to spread, I have feared the worst. For a year we have been accompanied by set sightings, questionable look choices, ever new involvements that only increased the risk of spoiling the film. On the management of the premieres and the related merch we have already talked about it, decrying them as choices that Miranda would not have approved of, so I will not dwell on them, not least because what really matters on this occasion is to talk about the film and only the film. And already from here emerges the biggest obstacle to the complete success of the product: the fact that it is a sequel. That is, of the second chapter of one of the most iconic stories of no less than two worlds, that of cinema and that of fashion. Of the former because of a narrative structure and characterization of the characters that is technically perfect, so much so that it is often cited in film classes; of the latter because of the fresh, in-depth and at the same time ironic look at the fashion system, and especially at fashion publishing, that the film goes through without seeking compromise. It is a well-known fact by now that a sequel never, except in very rare exceptions, lives up to the first one. In this specific case, penalizing expectations, in addition to all the reasons already mentioned, is the fact that Vogue itself – of which Runway was a kind of unspoken parody – decided to get involved. Maybe some people don’t know this, but it is said that before the 2006 release of the film, Anna Wintour was so opposed to a project that would paint her in any way that many brands and personalities would refuse to appear. Quite another matter for the sequel. Once the film became iconic and especially Vogue-approved, the question arises: would it have retained its essence?
Fashion, crisis and Italian salvation
All these premises explain how low my expectations, The Devil Wears Prada being one of my all-time favorite films, were. Instead, as I walked out of the theater, I was surprisingly relieved – at least in part. Partly because the operation was much safer than expected: references to the first chapter, even very literal ones, appear from the very first shot. We can read them as a sign of laziness or as a choice to play it safe, but in the end, if we have waited nearly two decades for this film, that feeling of familiarity does not displease at all and, indeed, avoids many of the lapses into cringe that so many expected. Then again, The Devil Wears Prada is a film about identity and what we are willing to do to construct and define our own-in this case that of Andy, played by Anne Hathaway. Knowing that the sequel has not completely lost its identity is somewhat reassuring. It has not lost it, but it has inevitably infused it, just like a project that takes into account its investors and those who supported it.
Nor does he hide it: between a crisis of Miranda’s image, that of publishing itself, and an unexpected twist, it is the advertisers themselves who will play a key role-and we will say no more about that to avoid spoilers. Then there is another key element: Italian fashion, which arrives almost as a rescue in extremis from the American crisis. It is exalted and enhanced thanks to the presence of inimitable names such as Dolce&Gabbana, which hosted the crew during its fashion show in Milan, but also Brunello Cucinelli. And above all, there is Milan, shown as the capital of global fashion, along with iconic locations such as Lake Como, which almost end up representing the film’s real lifeline. If the first chapter was a mirror of an industry that as yet knew no crisis, the disorientation that has characterized fashion in recent years is also felt here. Not so much because it is told explicitly, but because the film itself appears, at times, bewildered, and in this sense Italian fashion becomes the only foothold it seems to cling to.
Characters between confirmations and limitations
Among the many cameos by well-known characters who add absolutely nothing to the film, one of the few notable ones is that of Lady Gaga, who also contributes to the soundtrack. As for the main characters, the issue is more multifaceted. Miranda at times seems almost a parody of herself and seems to have lost some of her historic authority. A lack justified with jokes about political correctness or the fact that times have changed. Employees ready to turn to human resources and completely different work dynamics. In reality, rather than an evolution of the character, it seems a mirror of a system that has blunted its own excesses, making them less tolerable and, perhaps, less iconic.
Andy, on the other hand, does not look grown up at all. And I am not saying this because Anne Hathaway’s face is full of botox, but precisely because of the construction of the character: that Emily-in-Paris version of her as a savior paladin no longer works today. Fortunately we can count on Nigel, always flawless and consistent: a character who never changes, and that is precisely her strength, even managing to take a little revenge after the disappointment of the first film. Emily unfortunately remains a caricature of herself, but she maintains a certain solidity, despite being placed in a context that no one expected and that does not do her justice, lowering her potential when she could be so much more.
A nostalgia sequel: perhaps too much or perhaps necessary, given the times
Kind of like the whole film, which ultimately and perhaps inevitably chooses to present itself as yet another nostalgia sequel to an iconic time that will never return. And that’s fine, to avoid that sense of disorientation mentioned earlier, but it opens up questions. Because while this operation works precisely because of the constant reminder of what was, it also leaves one with a feeling of missed opportunity, as if the film never really had the courage to break away from its past to say something new and truly relevant about the present. The result is a product that is easy on the eyes, which also wrings a few smiles and a few moments of genuine pleasure, especially for those who viscerally loved the first chapter, but which rarely really surprises.
It is as if every choice was weighted not to displease anyone, and this is what somewhat betrays the soul of the first film: The Devil Wears Prada had become a cult because, under the glossy surface, it had the courage to be ruthless, while this sequel seems more interested in preserving that legacy than in questioning it. In the end, one leaves the theater with a twofold feeling: on the one hand, the comfort of having rediscovered familiar characters and atmospheres; on the other, the realization that that world as it was now belongs to another era. At a time when virtually every film that has made history is getting its sequel, that of The Devil Wears Prada is exactly what one expects from a sequel: that it will never be as iconic as the first one, but it demonstrates how nostalgia, today, is still one of the most powerful levers for engaging us.
[📸 Courtesy of Disney]
