★★½☆☆
While resurrecting beloved characters and revisiting an IP that once stood perfectly well on its own, The Devil Wears Prada 2 never recaptures the charisma, elegance, or cultural sharpness that defined the original. Instead, it functions as a hollow imitation—one that remembers the iconography, but forgets the craftsmanship that made it iconic in the first place.
“A sequel that remembers the brand, but forgets the artistry that made it iconic.”
Aline Brosh McKenna returns to pen the screenplay, yet the script feels less like a continuation than a recycled reconstruction. The framework mirrors the original film almost beat for beat: the impossible task, the strained professional relationships, the emotional balancing act between career and personal identity. Only this time, the stakes feel dramatically reduced. The structure remains, but the urgency is gone.
The film’s greatest flaw is its inability to understand how much the original relied on evolution. Characters here are written as though they have learned nothing over the years. Miranda Priestly’s detachment once worked because it existed alongside razor-sharp awareness and intimidating control. Here, moments where she seemingly forgets major figures from her own professional orbit feel less like calculated characterization and more like narrative regression designed to artificially recreate old dynamics.
David Frankel’s return to the director’s chair only further highlights how disconnected the sequel feels from its predecessor. The original The Devil Wears Prada thrived on rhythm. Scenes moved with precision, balancing fast-paced dialogue with carefully constructed visual storytelling that elevated the world of fashion into something aspirational and cinematic. This sequel lacks that energy entirely.
The pacing drags despite the film’s attempts at sophistication, while emotional moments arrive with the mechanical obligation of story beats being checked off a list. What once felt observant and sharply constructed now feels perfunctory.
“What once felt stylish and observational now plays like an obligation to nostalgia.”
Fashion itself also loses its cinematic power here, which is perhaps the film’s most surprising failure. A film centered around fashion should understand the visual language of presentation—the importance of pause, texture, framing, and movement. The original film understood that clothing was not simply wardrobe design, but storytelling.
There is a noticeable absence of visual admiration in the way this sequel captures its fashion sequences. The camera rarely lingers long enough for outfits to fully register. Runway moments pass by with the same flat rhythm as exposition scenes, stripping the glamour and spectacle from what should be centerpiece moments.
That absence becomes even more noticeable when remembering comments David Frankel once made regarding the original film’s design philosophy—particularly his belief that fashion begins with the shoes, with every detail built outward from that foundation. That philosophy could be felt throughout the original film’s construction. Costumes, cinematography, pacing, and editing all worked together to romanticize the world being presented.
Here, that attention to detail feels almost entirely absent.
Florian Ballhaus’s cinematography is technically polished but visually anonymous. The compositions are clean, yet lacking personality or visual distinction. Scenes never develop a unique visual rhythm, and the film struggles to separate emotionally driven character moments from the heightened glamour of the fashion world surrounding them.
“The film captures fashion as clothing rather than spectacle.”
Even Molly Rogers’ costume design feels underutilized—not because the work itself lacks quality, but because the film rarely knows how to showcase it. The designs exist within the frame without ever becoming cinematic focal points. The movie consistently fails to understand when to slow down and allow style, texture, and presentation to dominate the screen.
In the end, The Devil Wears Prada 2 feels less like a thoughtfully crafted sequel and more like a nostalgic reunion built around brand recognition. It reunites familiar faces and revisits familiar themes, but without the sharp direction, layered character work, or visual sophistication that once made the original resonate so strongly.
What remains is not a continuation, but an echo—one that reminds audiences why the first film endured while simultaneously proving how difficult that magic was to recreate.
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