Posted on 05/16/2026 8:35:32 PM PDT by SeekAndFind
It’s been years since going to the movie theater seemed worth it. But the sequel to “The Devil Wears Prada” is truly different, worth every dime. Featuring many members of the original cast, this is a smart and hilarious sendup of modern corporate culture that was mercifully free of woke signalling.
Twenty years after Andy Sachs first stepped into the cruel offices of Runway magazine, this movie (directed by David Frankel, written by Aline Brosh McKenna) delivers a witty and incisive sequel. It transforms the original’s fashion-world fairy tale into a pointed critique of today’s media landscape: the triumph of HR bureaucracy, advertiser dominance, private equity predation, and McKinsey-style “optimization.”
Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt, and Stanley Tucci return to lampoon contemporary overlords. Its satirical bite and sumptuous production make it a delightful return to form. Tucci’s fashion choices, in particular struck me as hilariously creative, but should come with a warning not to try this at home.
Anne Hathaway’s Andrea “Andy” Sachs, now a seasoned journalist who has built a career in “real” reporting, is laid off along with her colleagues amid industry collapse. She gets a prestigious award at the same time she is fired. To pay the bills, she reluctantly returns to Runway as features editor to help navigate a PR crisis.
Meryl Streep reprises her role as Miranda Priestly, the imperious editor-in-chief, now slightly mellowed by time and personal life.
Emily Blunt returns as Emily Charlton, who has risen to oversee luxury retail at Dior, nursing old grudges. Stanley Tucci’s Nigel Kipling remains Miranda’s loyal right-hand man, offering wit and wisdom while piously deferring to the greatness of the big cheese.
Early on, Andy confronts the first overlord: the modern HR department. In the original, assistants fetched coffee and hung coats without complaint. Here, corporate policies prohibit such requests to avoid any hint of hierarchy or exploitation.
Andy’s innocent suggestion that a junior staffer help with her coat sparks a passive-aggressive HR intervention complete with sensitivity training pamphlets and passive reminders about “psychological safety.”
It’s a hilarious microcosm of how today’s workplace has traded overt tyranny for bureaucratic smothering. Miranda rolls her eyes, but even she must navigate the forms. This sets the tone: the devil now exhaustively hangs her own coats, wears business casual, and cites policy.
Next come the advertisers, the second overlord. A major scandal erupts when Runway praises a fast-fashion brand later exposed for labor abuses. Sponsors threaten to pull out, forcing Miranda to bend the knee. There it is: we all know how it works. Those who pay the bills pull the strings.
Andy watches in horror as editorial independence erodes: “No advertisers, no us,” Miranda explains with weary pragmatism. The film smartly shows how revenue pressures have neutered once-independent publications.
Real-life analogs abound. Think legacy magazines like Vogue (the inspiration for Runway, with Miranda as a heightened Anna Wintour) balancing prestige content against luxury-brand partnerships and digital metrics. It’s the same with all major media today. Think of this with every media disease scare and where it is driving.
The ultimate threat arrives with the levered up private equity overlords. Longtime Runway parent company chairman Irv Ravitz (Tibor Feldman, reprising his role) dies suddenly (that sounds familiar!). His spoiled and haughty son, B.J. Novak’s Jay Ravitz—a ridiculous, uncultured failson wearing athleisure—takes over Elias-Clarke.
No one likes him. He cares not. Everyone must obey him. Jay immediately hires McKinsey consultants to “restructure.” These clipboard-carrying MBAs (one smugly notes his Harvard credentials) propose slashing budgets, staff cuts, digital-first pivots, and “unleashing the beast” of cost optimization. The consultants dish out fashionable platitudes having nothing to do with anything.
Miranda’s flying coach becomes a running gag. Meanwhile, the consultants embody the soulless efficiency that has gutted real media empires not to mention financial firms, veterinarian clinics, and even bowling alleys.
Novak plays Jay with insufferable entitlement, making him a perfect punching bag for the film’s anti-nepo, anti-consulting satire.
Andy, drawing on her journalistic ideals, teams up with Emily to fend off the takeover. They enlist Emily’s billionaire boyfriend, Justin Theroux’s Benji Barnes—a buff, ridiculous tech bro with a Bezos-like laugh, vanity projects, and cocktail-hour flirtations with transhumanist fantasies about how in the future, we won’t need necks.
Betrayal lurks: Emily’s alliance hides revenge. Miranda had once sidelined her (“You’re not a visionary, you’re a vendor”), pushing her to Dior. Emily wants Benji to buy Runway so she can be featured on the cover. The scheme unravels in Italy during a high-stakes fashion event, complete with Judas imagery and emotional confrontations.
Enter the savior: Lucy Liu as Sasha Barnes, Benji’s divorced ex-wife—a wealthy, idealistic, and altruistic philanthropist. Sasha outbids Benji for controlling stake, preserving some editorial soul under a more benevolent owner. It’s a fantasy resolution, but a satisfying one that lets the characters reclaim agency.
Other new characters add flavor: Patrick Brammall as Andy’s grounded property-developer love interest Peter, and various cameos (including Lady Gaga playing herself). He points out that his own job forces him to gut beauty and history in the remake of older apartment buildings. Nothing he can do about it; it’s how he makes his living but at least he regrets it.
Thematically, “The Devil Wears Prada 2” excels as corporate satire. It skewers how HR has infantilized workplaces, advertisers dictate content, private equity hollows out culture, and consultants armed with spreadsheets destroy actual expertise.
Real analogs are everywhere: Condé Nast’s struggles, Vogue’s dance with billionaires, the Washington Post under tech ownership and pharma funding, or endless takeovers of mom and pops. It’s true not only in media but also in sports, medicine, food, and every other sector. Where has truth and beauty gone?
Financialization born of ZIRP has turned civilized commerce into a rapacious casino that cares nothing for principle, beauty, decency, real-world experience, or even rationality. Miranda evolves from pure villain to embattled guardian of excellence, humanized by her marriage and quiet apologies. Andy grows into a pragmatic idealist.
It’s not revolutionary cinema, but in an era of declining print and AI slop, its defense of craft, beauty, and independence is timely. It spoke to me at last and gave me many laugh-out-loud moments, with mercifully few gratuitous vulgarities and moral depredations.
“The Devil Wears Prada 2” is a sparkling success. It reminds us why we loved the original while updating its critique for 2026 realities. The devils have new suits—HR lanyards, pitch decks, and private-jet manifests—but the fight for something authentic endures. See it for the laughs, the fashion, and the surprisingly sharp commentary.
Everybody wants this.
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Thank you very much and God bless you,
Jim
I’m sure it’s fine. But movies about fashion, modern artists, entertainment people. They just make my skin crawl because I find those types so utterly insufferable. I never watch them
I love all these people bitching about corporate greed….who check their 401k every night. They don’t realize they are the core of the problem.
And they did all this mostly at home and over Zoom calls, right?
Will Meryl thank Harvey Weinstein this time, too?
About 500 words more than I care about the subject.
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