Well, first off, congratulations to Meryl Streep for not being dead. I was fairly confident she was. So good for her.
The Devil Wears Prada is based on a book by an author I’m sure no one will be confusing with Hemmingway anytime soon.
Judging that the poster doesn’t feature any actual person and instead is just the image of a huge shoe, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that it’s probably pretty short on exploding cars and there’s a fair chance you won’t be seeing Anne Hathaway save the world from aliens.
No, no, in other words, it looks to be one of THOSE films. You know the ones, the ones your wife/girlfriend drags you to and you spend the next two hours playing an imaginary game of Madden 2006 in your head or wishing for death. And not even a quick death, you’ll take a slow, painful Braveheart-like death. Yeah, Braveheart, now that was a good film.
But back to this nonsense. I’m also going to go ahead and assume that it’s about the fashion industry. And Streep is mean to plucky upstart Hathaway. And I’ll go on to assume that Hathaway probably hands Streep her comeuppance in the end. Oh, and she probably has a group of equally plucky friends or a boyfriend who looks like he just walked out of an American Eagle ad, supports her unconditionally, doesn’t even know what a Playstation is, and who never finds SportsCenter more interesting than her long winded stories about how everyone at work hates her. Because that guy totally exists.
Essentially, this is what you’re gonna get. A power struggle between an alpha female and a young upstart in which the young female wins, proving the old adage that old age and treachery will never win against some screenwriter’s delusional fantasies. So Hathaway will no doubt end the film with the great job, great apartment, fantastic shoes, and solid relationship with a man that only serves the purpose of making the rest of us males look bad.
Basically if you have ovaries, I’m sure you’ll love it.