the devil creates content

a temu sequel

In the shadow of the Duomo, I saw The Devil Wears Prada 2. Throughout the surrounding piazza, advertisements for the sequel set in fashion's iconic second city spread behind the cathedral, including a selfie station featuring six-foot-tall red pumps with the film's trademark pitchfork heels. The May Day crowds—those shopping not protesting—happily posed with the diavolo.

Their excitement has already registered at the box office, both domestically and internationally. Early figures anticipate the film may clear $75 to $100M globally.

As a recent Fandango study reported, Gen Z and millennials are returning to theatres and to no one's surprise, all the summer's most anticipated movies are reboots or sequels, The Devil Wears Prada 2 included.

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Nostalgia is the greatest cultural force of our decade. Millennials want to relive their childhoods. Gen Z wants to relive someone else's. (47% of American 18-29 year-olds wish they lived in the 80s, 90s, or early 2000s, according to a recent NBC News Desk poll.)

The Zoomers yearn for the sidekick.

The Devil Wears Prada 2 delivers on what nostalgic audiences want: the same movie but different. Meryl Streep returns in cinematic Anna Wintour drag as Runway's editor-in-chief, Miranda Priestly. Anne Hathaway resumes her role as Andy Sachs, the plucky journalist slash self-insert for Lauren Weisberger, author of the original bestseller. Stanley Tucci is Nigel Kipling is André Leon Talley and Emily Blunt is Emily Charlton, recently revealed to be loosely based on celebrity stylist Leslie Fremar.

But the film quickly becomes bogged down in characters. We get three new assistants: a new Emily named Amari, played by Simone Ashley (clearly a mispronunciation of the LA streetwear brand Amiri); comedian-cum-podcaster Caleb Hearon as the new Andy, nicknamed Chair by his co-workers because he's not allowed to leave his desk; and Helen Shen as Jin Chao, Andy's striver sidekick. Andy's boyfriend Nate is absent—Adrian Grenier has been replaced by Patrick Brummel, who plays Andy's new love interest Peter, a depressingly middle-aged real estate developer. Tracie Thoms returns as Lily, Andy's best friend. Once again, she is gifted a bag. But rather than an of-the-moment it bag, she receives a semiotic stinker from Valentino.

Additions that drive the plot include BJ Novak as Jay Ravitz, Runway's new nepo-baby owner, and Justin Theroux as Benji Barnes, Emily's looksmaxxed billionaire boyfriend, a caricature of tech wealth so ignorant and eccentric that at a dinner party in the shadow of Leonardo's The Last Supper, he muses that he doesn't want to go to the moon, but rather the sun. Unaware of the irony, he declares his solar craft will be called Icarus. Lucy Liu plays his ex, Sasha Barnes, a fictionalized version of impact investor MacKenzie Scott, Jeff Bezos' former wife, technically a tech billionaire, but an ostensibly ethical one.

Cameos included but were not limited to: Tina Brown, Jenna Bush Hager, Winnie Harlow, Heidi Klum, Donatella Versace and Lady Gaga, who released a pastiche of Madonna's "Vogue" with Doechii for the film's original soundtrack. As in the franchise, "Vogue" is called "Runway."

Like all successful sequels, The Devil Wears Prada 2 relies on layers of self-referential in-jokes. We open with an establishing shot of the New York skyline, the post-9/11 absence of the Twin Towers now filled by One World Trade Center. The same opening song, "Suddenly I See" by KT Tunstall, plays as Andy Sachs once again bops through her morning routine.

Crosstown, Runway readies for their imitation Met Gala, unveiling a cerulean carpet. (Remember Miranda Priestly's infamous speech about the color blue?) In a twist, the theme is "Spring Florals." In 2006, Priestly could roll her eyes: "Florals? For spring? Groundbreaking." But Runway in 2026 is not Runway in 2006.

Concessions must be made.

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Inevitably with a film so mired in its own past, The Devil Wears Prada 2 lacks the timeliness and timelessness of the original. Similar to And Just Like That, the costumes are overblown and not particularly contemporary. They share a costume designer, Molly Rogers, who worked under Pat Field, the genius behind the iconic looks in Sex and the City and the original film. Down-to-earth Andy brags about her vintage Margiela and owns a pair of sequined gaucho pants. Emily works for Jonathan Anderson's Dior and yet seems to only wear logomaniacal pieces inspired by Demna's tenure at Balenciaga. And every female character wears the same cat-eyed sunglasses shape. Is it product placement or a trend I am unaware of?