The Devil Wears Prada 2: A Missed Opportunity to Reflect on Media’s Existential Crisis
There’s a moment in The Devil Wears Prada 2 that feels almost too real—painfully, cringingly real. Anne Hathaway’s Andy Sachs, now a celebrated investigative journalist, is mid-acceptance speech at a prestigious awards ceremony when she and her colleagues receive texts informing them they’ve been fired. It’s a scene that anyone in media today will recognize, not just for its drama but for its chilling accuracy. Personally, I think this moment could have been the foundation for a truly impactful film about the state of journalism. Instead, it’s more of a footnote in a movie that seems more interested in glitter than grit.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how the film tries to position itself as a commentary on the media industry’s struggles. The first Devil Wears Prada was a frothy, glamorous take on the fashion world, but this sequel aims higher—or at least, it pretends to. Andy’s return to Runway magazine, now as a features editor, is framed as a chance to bring integrity to a publication in crisis. But here’s the thing: the crisis isn’t just about Runway. It’s about an entire industry hemorrhaging talent, relevance, and purpose. And yet, the film treats this crisis like a chic accessory—something to dangle in front of the audience without ever truly examining.
From my perspective, the biggest missed opportunity here is the film’s refusal to grapple with the deeper issues facing journalism. Yes, Andy’s apartment has brown water spurting from the faucet, a nod to her financial struggles. But within minutes, she’s moving into a renovated apartment with a boring but wealthy boyfriend. It’s hard to feel for a character whose ‘struggles’ are solved by a plot device. What many people don’t realize is that this kind of glossing over is exactly what undermines the film’s attempt to be taken seriously. If you take a step back and think about it, the film’s portrayal of media workers as either glamorous elites or hapless victims does more harm than good.
One thing that immediately stands out is the film’s obsession with surface-level symbolism. Andy’s colleagues are laid off, but the real tragedy seems to be that they’ll have to fly coach to Fashion Week. Seriously? In an era where journalists are losing their jobs en masse, the idea that Ubering to an event is a hardship feels tone-deaf. This raises a deeper question: Who is this film for? Is it for the audience that wants to see Stanley Tucci deliver snappy one-liners, or is it for the journalists who are living the very crisis it pretends to depict?
A detail that I find especially interesting is the film’s treatment of Miranda Priestly. Meryl Streep’s character, the embodiment of ruthless ambition, is still commanding the screen, but even she feels like a caricature of her former self. The film hints at her vulnerability—her fear of being pushed out—but it never fully explores it. What this really suggests is that the film is more comfortable with clichés than complexity. It’s easier to show Miranda as a fashion titan than to examine how even the most powerful figures in media are at the mercy of corporate interests.
What this film doesn’t dare to say—and what I find most frustrating—is that the media’s current crisis is rooted in its reliance on the wealthiest one percent. The Jeff Bezos-like figure looming over Runway isn’t just a plot device; he’s a symbol of an industry that’s been sold out to the highest bidder. What many people don’t realize is that this dynamic has been playing out for decades. Rewatch the original Devil Wears Prada, and you’ll notice the absence of any mention of the internet or digital media. The seeds of today’s media hellscape were being planted back in 2006, and the film completely ignores that.
In my opinion, The Devil Wears Prada 2 had the potential to be a sharp, insightful critique of the media industry. Instead, it’s a glossy distraction—a film that wants to look like it’s saying something important without actually committing to it. It’s a shame, because the issues it touches on are more relevant than ever. Journalism is in crisis, and we need stories that reflect that reality, not just pay lip service to it.
As someone who’s worked in media, I can tell you that the industry is far more complex and far less glamorous than this film suggests. The real drama isn’t in the champagne-soaked parties or the designer outfits; it’s in the late nights, the unpaid invoices, and the constant fear of obsolescence. The Devil Wears Prada 2 could have captured that. Instead, it chose to play it safe—and in doing so, it missed the chance to be something truly meaningful.
Final Thought: This film is a reminder that even when Hollywood tries to tackle serious issues, it often ends up prioritizing style over substance. Personally, I think that’s a missed opportunity we can’t afford—especially when the stakes are this high.
