Here’s the thing about sequels. They don’t have to be great. They don’t even have to be good, necessarily. They just have to exist for a reason. Any reason. “We had an idea” is a reason. “We wanted to check in on these characters twenty years later” is a reason. Even “we all needed a paycheck and a paid trip to Milan” fine. Whatever. Just give me something.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 gives me nothing. And I mean nothing.
I walked out of the theater actually kind of angry. Not because it ruined the original, it doesn’t. That movie’s still perfect, go watch it again tonight. I’m angry because this sequel spends two hours running in place, sweating, and asking me to be impressed by the effort.
So here’s the setup. Andy Sachs, sorry, Andrea now, she’s a Serious Journalist, gets fired via text message. While accepting an award. Along with every other journalist at her table. It’s supposed to be this darkly comic commentary on how the industry’s a dumpster fire. And okay, fair. That part’s actually true. We are all terrified all the time. But the movie doesn’t do anything with that terror. It just uses it as a forklift to get Andy back into Runway Magazine.
Meanwhile, Miranda Priestley is in trouble. Runway isn’t cool anymore. She’s lost her edge. She did a big spread on a fashion brand that turned out to be running sweatshops, so now everyone hates her. And — get this, she’s not allowed to throw her coat at people anymore. The movie treats this as tragedy. I’m not joking. There’s a whole scene where she sighs mournfully and places her coat on a hook herself, like a commoner. I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly sprained something.
So Andy comes back to Runway as the new features editor, against Miranda’s wishes. Emily’s still there, ice-cold and fabulous. Stanley Tucci shows up to say witty things and be the only person in the room with any self-awareness. Kenneth Branagh plays Miranda’s husband, which sounds like a big deal, but he has absolutely nothing to do except be nice and supportive. Which, fine. Refreshing, even. But you could have replaced him with a potted plant and lost nothing.
Here’s my real problem.
The original Devil Wears Prada had that scene. You know the one. Andy laughs at fashion, and Miranda destroys her with the cerulean monologue. It’s not just a takedown, it’s a lesson. It’s the movie saying, “Don’t be so quick to dismiss things you don’t understand.” It’s brilliant writing.
This sequel has multiple scenes where Miranda mocks serious journalism. Calls it irrelevant. Says nobody reads long articles anymore. And Andy, Andy, who has spent twenty years as a journalist, just stands there. Takes it. Doesn’t push back. Doesn’t say, “Actually, Miranda, journalism is cerulean too.” That line was right there. I yelled it at the screen. My girlfriend shushed me.
But here’s the thing that really gets me. The movie pretends Andy’s arc from the first film didn’t happen. Remember the ending? She walks away from Runway. She chooses integrity over Miranda’s approval. That was the whole point. She grew. And now, twenty years later, she’s still desperate for Miranda to say “good job.” They even redo the impossible-task scene from the first movie, Andy has to get some impossible thing done to prove herself, but it’s less interesting, less clever, and less satisfying. It’s karaoke night at the Devil Wears Prada bar. Everyone’s singing the hits, but nobody’s hitting the notes.
Look, Meryl Streep is great. Of course she is. She could play a toaster and I’d watch. Anne Hathaway is great. Emily Blunt and Stanley Tucci are great. They still have chemistry. You can feel it flickering under the surface, like they’re all trying really hard to make the material work. But you can’t polish a script that doesn’t know what it wants to say.
Does it want to be about journalism? Then show me why journalism matters. Give me a scene where Andy’s writing actually changes something.
Does it want to be about Miranda’s redemption? Then let her earn it. Don’t just have her lose her power and get sad about coats.
Does it want to be about the friendship between these women? Then give them more than two scenes together where they aren’t fighting over a headline.
I don’t know what this movie wants. And honestly, I don’t think it knows either.
The worst part? I didn’t hate watching it. That’s the trap. The cast is so charming, the production design is so pretty, and the nostalgia dopamine hits just often enough that you don’t realize you’re being bored until the credits roll. It’s not painful. It’s just… pointless. Like eating a whole bag of popcorn and realizing you weren’t even hungry.
So who is this for?
If you just want to see Meryl Streep be mean again? Fine. You’ll get about ten minutes of that, sprinkled across two hours.
If you loved the original and want something that honors its intelligence? Stay home. Rewatch the first one. Order takeout. You’ll have a better night.
Me? I’m giving it two stars, and that’s purely for the cast’s effort and the one shot of Kenneth Branagh making tea like a normal person. Everything else? It could have been a group text.
Actually, no. It could have been a single email with “seen” receipts turned off.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 Parents Guide
Look, I sat through this movie so you don’t have to be surprised when your teenager asks to see it. The good news? It’s not gonna scar anyone. The bad news? It’s boring in ways that might actually hurt more than violence. But here’s the actual breakdown for parents who want the real answer, not some studio press release.
The MPA gave it PG-13 for strong language and some suggestive references. That’s accurate. It’s not harsher than that. But let me break down what that actually means scene by scene, because “suggestive references” could mean anything from a dirty joke to… well, you’ll see.
Violence & Intensity: Almost nothing. Seriously. This is not an action movie. The most violent thing that happens is Miranda Priestley sighing with disappointment, which, okay, that is emotionally brutal if you’re on the receiving end. But physically? Zero punches. Zero weapons. No blood. No one gets pushed into traffic or thrown down stairs.
There’s one mildly intense scene where Andy is racing against a deadline and the screen does that fast-cut, loud-music thing to make you feel stressed. Your average middle schooler has felt worse anxiety during a group project. There’s also a scene where journalists get fired via text message, which might hit different if your family has been through a layoff. But intensity-wise? It’s a drama about people in nice clothes having conversations in nice rooms. Your kid has seen scarier things in a Pixar movie.
Language: Expect a handful of “shit” — maybe four or five. One “bullshit.” A couple of “damn” and “hell” for seasoning. Emily Blunt drops one “bitch” that lands with some force, aimed at a subordinate. There’s no “fuck”, I was genuinely surprised. Usually these sequels go harder to seem edgy. This one restrained itself.
Sexual Content / Nudity: Almost nothing. This surprised me too.
There are no sex scenes. No nudity. No one in underwear. No one hooking up. The most sexually charged moment is when Miranda’s husband (Kenneth Branagh, just making tea, being nice) kisses her on the cheek and she almost smiles. That’s it.
There are suggestive references as the rating says — a few jokes about affairs in the fashion world, one comment about someone trying to “sleep their way to a better desk” (which gets an eye roll from another character), and a brief scene at a party where two background characters are dancing a little too close. That’s the extent of it.
Drugs, Alcohol & Smoking: You’ll see champagne at parties. A lot of champagne. Rich people in movies love champagne. Characters drink it at galas, at launches, at dinners. No one gets drunk. No one acts sloppy. It’s just the visual shorthand for “these are fancy adults.”
There’s one scene where Miranda pours herself a glass of red wine after a long day and stares out a window. Very “sad mom in a prestige drama” energy. No smoking — not even a single cigarette. No drugs. No mention of drugs. No pill bottles, no powder, no joints.
Age Recommendations
Here’s my honest take, not the official line.
Ages 8–10: Too boring. They won’t care about journalism layoffs or Miranda’s career crisis. They’ll ask for their iPad an hour in. Save everyone the trouble.
Ages 11–12: Mature enough to sit through it, but they might not get it. The themes — job insecurity, selling out, the death of print media — are adult concerns. They’ll follow the plot about Andy wanting Miranda’s approval, but the deeper stuff will whoosh right over their heads. Language is fine for this age if you’re cool with “shit” and “bitch.”
Ages 13–15: The sweet spot. They’re old enough for the PG-13 rating. They understand workplace dynamics. They’ve probably seen the original on TikTok or Netflix. Nothing in this sequel is gonna shock them or give them nightmares. The worst thing they’ll experience is secondhand embarrassment from Andy making the same mistakes she made twenty years ago.
Ages 16+: They’re fine. There’s nothing here they haven’t seen in a Marvel movie or a network TV drama. The real question isn’t “is it appropriate” — it’s “is it worth their time.” And honestly? Probably not. The original is better in every way. Show them that instead.
Bottom line for parents: The Devil Wears Prada 2 is a PG-13 for language and a few suggestive jokes, not content. No violence. No nudity. No drugs. The most intense thing about it is the disappointment. If your kid wants to see it because they love Anne Hathaway or Meryl Streep, they’ll be fine. Just maybe watch the original with them afterward so they understand what a good version of this story looks like.
