The Devil Wears Prada 2 arrives with a supremely stacked cast and the return of beloved characters who have long since transcended the screen to become icons of an entire generation. The film leans heavily into nostalgia, bringing back familiar musical cues, fashion montages, and perfectly timed one-liners that made the original such a fan favourite.
And that is….well….about it.
At the end of the day, nostalgia alone is not enough to make a great film—or even a decent sequel. While seeing these characters again is undeniably fun, fond memories of the first movie cannot erase the problems of the second.
One of my biggest complaints about sequels is that many of them simply have no reason to exist. Surprisingly, that is not the problem here. Frankel's film actually has something meaningful to say. It tackles the changing state of the fashion industry, from fast fashion and the decline of print media to the struggle of passionate professionals trying to survive in a rapidly shifting world. These themes give the sequel a legitimate foundation, and at times, it explores them beautifully.
One of the film's strongest sequences takes place in Milan. During a dinner scene, Théroux's character—who does an excellent job of being absolutely insufferable—launches into a speech about AI's ability to replicate anything humans create, all while sitting in the shadow of one of humanity's greatest artistic achievements: The Last Supper. The symbolism is hardly subtle, but it works. The sequence continues as Miranda steps outside and finds herself surrounded by luxury fast-fashion brands. Emily remarks that they are the only things making money in fashion, reinforcing the critique of consumerism that was already present in the first film.
Similarly, Benji Barnes' character—an obvious parody of billionaire figures like Jeff Bezos —allows the film to explore the dangers of private equity and the increasingly absurd influence of ultra-wealthy owners. Yet the film ultimately undercuts its own critique. By the end, Lucy Liu's character, another private-equity owner, is presented as a triumphant solution simply because she replaces the previous billionaire. The film never fully grapples with the fact that the underlying problem remains exactly the same.
And if none of these critiques crossed your mind while watching, I completely understand. I still had fun despite finding much of the writing rough around the edges and frustratingly incomplete. The issue I genuinely could not get past was the character developments and how contradictory their arcs felt compared to the ending of the original film.
At the end of The Devil Wears Prada, Andy breaks away from Miranda after realizing she does not want to become someone willing to sacrifice her morals for career advancement. She walks away stronger, more confident, and determined to pursue journalism on her own terms. The sequel starts with her as an established journalist that is making a passionate speech about the importance of honor.
So tell me why she spends the better half of the film acting like she is still a freshman on her first job desperately trying to impress Miranda Priestly.
Does it help the nostalgic and comedic elements of the film? Sure. Does it make any sense for Andy's character? Not particularly.
I am not suggesting Andy left Runway hating Miranda. In fact, the original film clearly ends with a degree of mutual respect between them. But is that really enough for Andy to go to extraordinary lengths to save a company that treated her, frankly, terribly? The sequel repeatedly asks the audience to accept this without ever fully earning it even though they had the book subplot. If Andy was using the book as a reason to handle being near Miranda again, honestly it would make a lot more sense, but it was just another half baked thread that was never really followed through with.
Adding to the problem is the fact that Andy ends up doing almost everything because Miranda Priestly—of all people—is one of the most passive characters in the film. The only person more passive is Andy's boyfriend, who somehow manages to contribute so little that his entire presence raises a separate and equally important question: why does he exist? Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure the answer lies in the critique in the first film that some people took away that powerful women couldn't be successful and have families simultaneously. Adding Andy’s boyfriend to fix that critique was almost as unnecessary as it was laughable.
Furthermore, "Miranda Priestly is passive" is not a sentence I ever thought I would write.
What frustrates me is that I can see what the film was trying to do. It seems interested in portraying a powerful woman confronting an industry that is moving on without her—a world changing beneath her feet faster than she can control it. That's a compelling idea. Unfortunately, instead of exploring that tension, the film often feels as though the writers simply did not know what to do with Miranda. Rather than evolving the character, they sidelined her, making one of cinema's most commanding personalities feel oddly powerless.
Then there is Nigel, played once again by the always-excellent Stanley Tucci.
Arguably, Nigel gets the happiest ending in the film—at least, I think he does. The movie is surprisingly unclear on that point. It appears that he finally ends up running Runway's head office, which sounds like a well-earned victory. The problem is that the original film left us with Miranda betraying him, prompting Nigel to famously remark, "When the time is right, she'll pay me back."
Do I find it hard to believe Nigel would continue working with Miranda after all these years? No.
Do I find it hard to believe she may have cost him other opportunities along the way? Also no.
Do I find it hard to believe that, after all of that, he has absolutely no lingering resentment toward her whatsoever?
Yes.
Absolutely.
Perhaps even more unbelievable is the suggestion that Miranda somehow never realized she had been sidelining Nigel all these years. This is Miranda Priestly we are talking about—a woman who notices when someone wears the wrong shade of blue. The idea that she would be completely unaware of Nigel's sacrifices feels far more fictional than anything else in the movie.
Overall I had a lot of fun being reunited with such amazing characters, but much like other sequels this film will probably live in the forgotten category and when people mention the original icon, the sequel will not be grouped with it. In the words of Miranda Priestly…. That’s all.
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