Director: David Frankel
Starring: Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Stanley Tucci
Year: 2006
Reviewer: Reese Witherfork
Anne Hathaway stars as an ambitious, young journalist who knows nothing about fashion, but manages to lands herself a job as assistant to the editor in chief of Runway magazine (read: Vogue magazine). Meryl Streep plays Miranda Priestly, Hathaway’s immensely powerful boss: a woman who has the enviable ability to make her subordinates shit themselves, with just a few frosty remarks.
I’ll start by saying that Meryl Streep’s performance, alone, is worth the 8 bucks, or 5 pounds, or 9 thousand pesos, or whatever, that you’re going to spend on a ticket. The story itself is enjoyable (although it has a few minor problems, which I’ll get to in a minute) but every once in a while a movie rolls around where any problems with plot, story, camera work, or anything else become irrelevant, because one of the performances is so strong that it carries every other error made during the making of the film.
This is one of those films. Granted, I’m a fan of Meryl Streep. I would happily watch a 2 hour movie of Meryl Streep waiting for a bus, and I would probably also buy the director’s cut DVD. So, my prejudices are on the table. But, still, this performance really was extraordinary. There are a hundred actresses who could have played the Miranda Priestly character just as a straight bitch, without exploring the necessary complexities behind a character who’s at the helm of a multi billion dollar industry. Streep did the character justice (and then some) and in fact did such a good job that, as I said, I was willing to overlook some of the problems with the story.
Ahem, problemo number one: as Hathaway’s character begins to develop an interest in fashion and begins to work 24/7 (which is required, in order to keep her job), the tension in the plot is supposed to come from her strained relationship with her boyfriend. But here’s the problem: none of that works, because her boyfriend does nothing but belittle the fashion biz, which Hathaway’s character (and anyone watching the film) understands and has respect for. Really, her boyfriend is a whiney bitch for the whole movie and, as you see her character becoming more and more sucessful, you can’t understand why she would want that loser anyway. He’s gross, he sulks, and he has one eyebrow. Yuck. So none of that worked.
Problemo number two: the ending was dreadful. A complete cop out. Really, the ending very nearly undid all the brilliant work that Streep did through the film. If the ending of this film was an outfit, it would be Birkenstock sandals with a floral print dress; THAT’S how much it fucking sucked. However, I find that if I completely sever the last 15 minutes of the film from my mind, as well as the parts of the film that didn’t revolve around the Meryl Streep character, that this was a very fine film, indeed.
By the way, if you’re at all into fashion, this movie is a dream to look at. If you don’t see it in the theatres, at least grab it on DVD.
