I thought the book, The Devil Wears Prada, was decidedly uneven and, at time, cliché, but I did look forward to renting the film because I thought Meryl Streep would be an amazing Miranda Priestly. And yes, Streep was chillingly perfect as the “devil” with her sotto voce delivery and expressionless facile features. The movie maintained some of the naiveté and youthful ignorance of the Andrea (Andy) character but removed most of the pseudo-intellectual, self-righteous snobbery that peppered the book (e.g., the boyfriend, Nate, is making his way up the culinary ladder whereas in the book he worked with disadvantaged children).
The designer clothes are amazing, everyone is thin and beautiful, and you can’t help but feel a bit of empathy for Andy as the fashionistas outwardly make fun of her clothing, “Do you have something better to do? Maybe going to an ugly skirt convention?” Anne Hathaway is very endearing and resistant as Andy, but some of the character’s mannerisms were a bit too reminiscent of Sex and the City’s Charlotte character.
Rent the move, skip the book.