Review: The Devil Wears Prada 2

The first Devil Wears Prada was, amongst other things, aspirational. If you worked hard and put up with a lot of crap, your dreams could come true; the comedy part was that Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) wanted to be a serious journalist but was stuck in the world of fashion - a world she came to realise was in its own way as serious and worthy of respect as any other.

In 2026, who aspires to work in the media? The most considered part of this sequel - which mostly does everything right without ever doing anything interesting - is the way it tackles this problem head-on. We're reunited with Andy as she's about to collect an award for journalism; the real prize comes when she and everyone else at her table get fired by text.

So she needs a job. Meanwhile, her former employer Runway is in trouble, having accidentally run a glowing story about a fashion label that secretly uses sweatshop labor. Now they're being mocked on the internet; worse, the advertisers are using it as an excuse to screw them over. Editor-in-chief Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) is less than impressed by the response imposed on her by the magazine's owner: Andy, icon of journalist legitimacy that she is, is now Runway's new features editor.

Nigel (Stanley Tucci) never left, so three-quarters of the old gang are back together, and former rival Emily (Emily Blunt) is now doing marketing at Dior so she's around as well. Andy struggles with the idea of putting together quality stories that also get clicks - Runway is now more of an online brand, with all the slashed budgets and dirty work that entails - but bigger financial problems are on the horizon.

Most of what passes for dramatic tension here comes from the tug-of-war between surviving in a barren media environment and continuing to peddle a very luxe image. It's not really surprising that it comes down to appeasing various members of the ultra-rich to allow them to exist; at least this has the honesty to wonder aloud if even the best possible option will still allow them editorial freedom.

None of this fits well with the glamourous escape promised by the world of high fashion, and the various character arcs are much more about surviving than thriving. Everyone is doing about as well as could be realistically expected, but this is not a film where you come out envious of anything beyond the outfits.

Those outfits are almost worth the price of admission on their own; it's an increasingly rare pleasure to see good-looking people dressed well on the big screen. It's also rare to see a cast list as overstuffed as this one. At a time when even big budget releases veer towards "two people, one room", this is packed with extraneous friends and lovers and assistants who turn up for a handful of scenes and leave no impact. 

Even Andy's new love interest (played by Australian Patrick Brammell) gets the bare minimum to create an arc (meet cute, first date, couch cuddle with ambiguous ending, reunited) in a subplot that might have been aspirational if their only topic of conversation wasn't rennovations.

Fortunately, the four leads are all fully focused, and the film makes sure we get plenty of hang time and snappy dialogue without being distracted by pointless drama. Andy is still an excitable puppy, Nigel is the caring mentor, Emily is quality comedy relief without going too broad, and ice-cold Miranda is as cutting as ever... just so long as you don't notice that the entire plot is driven by moments where her authority is undercut, or worked around, or simply ignored.

She's still got it, obviously; who doesn't love an icon that makes the case that keeping your emotions to yourself is how you succeed in life? But the promotion subplot that gives Miranda reason to care feels more like they're trying to kick her upstairs and out of the way; her vision remains big, it's just the screens that got small.

- Anthony Morris 

Review: The Deb

Much like weddings, debutante (or "deb") balls provide a rock solid structure for a film that wants to build up to a big finish. There's plenty to organise, people are under stress, there's the whole "find a date" angle, and the big night is an explosion of fancy outfits and dodgy dancing. So why not base a musical on the whole thing? Why not indeed.

When a feminist protest at her elite private school goes wrong - well, it doesn't go wrong exactly, it's just unclear how flashing the entire school was meant to achieve anything - the aggressively outspoken culture warrior Maeve Barker (Charlotte MacInnes) is sent out west to hide out with her country cousin Taylah Simpkins (Natalie Abbott) and her father Rick (Shane Jacobson) in the drought-stricken town of Dunburn.

Taylah is at the low end of the town's social ladder, constantly pranked by a trio of mean girls led by Annabelle (Stevie Jean), daughter of the town's beautician, Janette (Rebel Wilson, who also directs). Taylah's dreams of a date to the upcoming Deb ball have been dashed yet again; maybe her cool cousin will be able to help her out?

Maeve finds the whole thing a retrograde disaster with a big slice of sexism on top; the only way she can stand to be around any of the locals is by starting a podcast designed to mock and expose their backwards ways. This, of course, will not come back to bite her on the arse when she eventually warms to her cousin and her plight.

Based on a 2022 stage musical by Hannah Reilly and Meg Washington (Reilly also wrote the screenplay), parts of this are a reminder of just how quickly culture moves these days; the opening musical number 'FML' features bitchy teens with minor complaints about their pampered lives (never goes out of style) with what's best described as weaponised performative wokeness (which now feels very much like a 2022 thing).

The film is on steadier, if somewhat more well-trod, ground once it gets to the country. Reilly seems aware that audiences have seen this kind of thing before, and the story rushes through a number of familiar twists and turns (plus a few new ones) in a way that can feel a little breathless at times. 

Then again, there's a bunch of songs to fit in, and the numerous numbers are consistently catchy. Abbott and MacInnes are charismatic stand-outs both musically and as actors, keeping their characters relatable despite the occasional whiplash change in standing or situation. The tone is camp, except when it's not, and at times it's a little tricky to separate the comedy from the moments we're meant to care about.

Rebel Wilson is also in this, so you know what to expect there. Whatever comedic flair she displayed a decade or so ago has largely faded; even as the main antagonist she's miscast. Her directing (this is her debut behind the movie camera) is competent at best, and that's mostly during the musical numbers where the choreography is doing the hard work.

Dunburn is largely populated by stock stereotypes animated by ham-fisted performances (the local cop is played by Sam Simmons, which should give you an idea of what's being served up), which become even more jarring when things take a turn for the serious towards the end - so much so that a comedy cameo from the late Julian McMahon, while funny in isolation, simply doesn't work. 

High energy is always welcome in a comedy musical, but at times this feels like a film of two parts: the songs, the leads and a sweet subplot involving Rick make this an entertaining romp with heart, while Wilson and much of the supporting cast are going for the kind of broad strokes that often distinguishes Australian big screen comedy.  

Well, maybe "distinguishes" isn't quite the right word. 

- Anthony Morris 

Review: The Drama

Much of the early discussion around The Drama has been focused on spoiler culture. The film's plot involves a revelation around twenty minutes in that critics have been asked not to mention - so don't go looking for it here. 

That said, if critics hadn't been warned ahead of time, it's unlikely anyone would have considered it a spoiler. It's basically just what the movie is about, like trying to hide the fact that Star Wars takes place in a galaxy far, far away. What can be said at this stage is this: couple Charlie (Robert Patterson) and Emma (Zendaya) are hurtling towards their looming wedding when one of them reveals something that turns everything on its head.

It's the nature of what's revealed that's the big secret, which is a bit weird because as far as shocking revelations go it doesn't quite work. It's like writer / director Kristoffer Borgli tried to think of the most inflammatory thing he could (for a US audience at least) that was also politically neutral - it's something nobody on either side of that divided nation can support.

The thing is, the character (okay, its Emma) didn't actually go through with it, and it's fairly easy to imagine anyone hearing about it (it's revealed during a drunken session of "what's the worst thing you've ever done") just thinking that yeah, teens do tend to get a bit excessive, let's move on. 

For the story to properly hang together, this reveal needs to be earth-shattering and basically unforgivable, the kind of thing that would change how you see someone forever. Instead, the revelation is a bit wobbly, something that needs to be sold to us over and over rather than hitting like a hammer. 

Fortunately, much of this burden falls on Patterson, who is basically playing a Hugh Grant character from the 1990s. It's extremely plausible that he would obsess over even a minor revelation, so his gradual but growing commitment to the worst possible decisions - which drives a lot of the comedy here - works well.

He's not the only one obsessed, though Emma is largely focused on dredging up her past. Neither of them are in the right headspace heading into a big fancy wedding, and their constant stumbles over many of the decisions required only add to the growing sense of doom.

There's a long tradition of films where the selling point is the walk back to the car afterwards where couples get to ask "what would you do if that happened to us?". The question is as important as the resolution, and on that level, this succeeds - which again, is probably why critics have been asked not to reveal that side of things.

Aside from that, what's left? The romance is deftly established then slowly demolished, helped along by two likable (for the most part) performances. Weddings always make for great drama, and this takes full advantage. 

As cringe comedies go, this isn't all that cringe-worthy. The big laughs come from comedy juxtapositions and oblivious outsiders; Charlie's slow-motion car-crash approach to messing things up never quite hits the high notes. 

That's possibly because it's all in character for him: the movie begins with him retelling the story of how they met-cute, only it's based on him lying about having read a book then telling that lie into Emma's deaf ear, giving him a chance to get out but instead he doubles down (and later on, doubles down again). 

This is just how he rolls, and Emma loves him anyway. A feel good - or at least, not an aggressively feel-bad - ending is all but guaranteed, no matter how badly things go wrong. How badly, you ask? When it comes to the central dilemma, it's safe to reveal this: it involves a gun.

- Anthony Morris