Matthew Lickona 7 a.m., April 24
The Devil Wears Prada
Working-girl comedy in the vein of, oh, say, Working Girl, the eager, gifted, underemployed, and underpaid secretary ("A million girls would kill for that job") and the imperious, capricious, queen-bee boss. An ice queen, more descriptively, with snow-white hair, just a bit of sludge showing through at the neck, and an anemic, cryonic complexion. Meryl Streep, in the latter part, is interesting as always, talking in a narcotized, uninflected voice that betrays no emotion deeper than a sigh. But Anne Hathaway, talking with a clothespin on her nose, doesn't quite fill the bill as "the smart fat girl." Or to put it more flatteringly, the offenses of her weight and her wardrobe are not overstated. Disappointingly, the possibilities of the fashion-industry setting, from Lauren Weisberger's fang-baring novel, largely go by in a blur of montages and a blizzard of name-dropping. With Stanley Tucci, Emily Blunt, Simon Baker, and Adrien Grenier; directed by David Frankel. 2006.
— Duncan Shepherd
- Rated PG-13