Miranda Priestly Flies Coach: ‘The Devil Wears Prada 2’ Returns with Bitter Satire and Familiar Glamour

Key facts

• The sequel arrives 20 years after the original 2006 film, directed by David Frankel and written by Aline Brosh McKenna.
• Meryl Streep reprises Miranda Priestly, who now flies coach and must hang up her own coat after an HR complaint.
• Anne Hathaway’s Andy Sachs is laid off from her journalism job via text message before being hired as Runway’s features editor.
• Justin Theroux plays tech billionaire Benji Barnes, a Jeff Bezos-like figure who attempts to buy Runway as a toy.
• Emily Blunt returns as Emily Charlton, now head of luxury retail at Dior, wielding power over her former boss.
• The film features cameos by Lady Gaga, Donatella Versace, and a cloud of New York media elites.
• Andy’s acceptance speech at a journalism award goes viral after her publication folds, citing a $500 million write-down and an $11 million CEO salary.
• The sequel includes a turquoise belt callback, a Milan Fashion Week stop, and a digitally scrubbed Manhattan skyline omitting 262 Fifth Avenue.

A Humbled Runway and a Media World in Crisis

Two decades after Andy Sachs first navigated the treacherous corridors of Runway magazine, the sequel opens on a landscape transformed by corporate consolidation and digital disruption. Miranda Priestly, once an imperious goddess of fashion, now flies coach and hangs up her own coat after human resources curbed her abusive habits. The magazine itself is a shadow of its former self, its budgets slashed and its credibility damaged by a fast-fashion scandal involving sweatshop labor. Andy, now a serious journalist at a hard-hitting outlet called The Vanguard, is abruptly laid off via text message during an awards dinner. Her acceptance speech—decrying a $500 million write-down while the CEO took home $11 million—goes viral. With suspiciously fortuitous timing, Elias-Clarke chairman Irv Ravitz (Tibor Feldman) offers her the position of features editor at Runway, hoping she can salvage the publication’s reputation. The film’s satire sharpens as it targets the death of journalism, the hollow promises of tech billionaires, and the luxury real estate boom in New York. Benji Barnes (Justin Theroux), a Jeff Bezos-like figure, attempts to buy Runway as a toy for his calculating new girlfriend, seeing no value in media while searching for a new planet to ravage. Meanwhile, Andy’s new love interest, Australian architect Peter (Patrick Brammall), designs high-end apartment blocks—a contradiction she initially decries but later embraces.

The Core Trio Reconfigured: Andy, Miranda, and Emily

The sequel deftly repositions the three central women into new adversarial roles. Miranda, who scarcely remembers Andy, vehemently opposes her hiring and waits for her to fail. Andy, now more confident and backed by a new generation of assistants (Helen J. Shen, Simone Ashley, Caleb Hearon), must earn Miranda’s grudging respect once again. Emily Charlton (Emily Blunt), Miranda’s former assistant, now oversees luxury retail at Dior, exacting small revenges on her old boss and offering Andy a moment of sincerity: “You’re much more confident.” The power dynamic between Andy and Miranda remains intact, but the stakes have escalated. Andy is no longer a naive ingénue but a seasoned journalist fighting to save a crumbling media empire. Her shifting perspective reshapes the audience’s own prejudices, making even Runway’s gargantuan excesses seem worth defending against the encroaching tyranny of know-nothing billionaires. Miranda, meanwhile, has been defanged by domestic bliss with her latest husband (Kenneth Branagh), though she still coos, “Boy, I love working,” with a warmth that merges actor and character.

Familiar Beats and Callbacks: Nostalgia as Strategy

The sequel leans heavily on nostalgia, recycling the original’s plot beats with heightened circumstances. Andy dishing with Nigel (Stanley Tucci) in the cafeteria, Nigel picking out an outfit for a Hamptons trip, a frantic backstairs scheme to protect Miranda from a corporate coup—all return. The film even resurrects Andy’s awful blue polyblend sweater, a touchstone for connoisseurs. A Madonna-scored dress-up montage and a glimpse of the turquoise belt that, per Miranda’s prophecy, has trickled down to an open-air market reinforce the original’s pop-cultural hold. Yet the film also undercuts its own self-intoxication. The lavish shoots and stories elicit little more than a scroll and a yawn. The cool commercial logic of fashion—transforming beautiful originals into cheaply reproducible goods—echoes Hollywood’s cannibalization of its own successes. The movie gestures toward the real world but unequivocally sells the fantasy, a contradiction that may cause whiplash but will satisfy the target audience.

Satire with a Soft Edge: The Sequel’s Ambivalent Critique

Screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna aims for relevancy by padding the story with quasi-topical points. The sharpest is a commentary on the death of journalism, underscored by Andy’s viral speech and the film’s own strategy of keeping critics gagged until influencers shape the narrative. The introduction of tech billionaire Benji Barnes provides a thin satire of American oligarchy, but the thread barely rises above a comedy sketch. Similarly, a dig at the luxury real estate boom is undermined when Andy, after sanctimonious objections, moves into the very high-end apartment block she criticized. The film’s stance on conspicuous wealth remains ambiguous. A twinkly shot of the Manhattan skyline has been digitally scrubbed to remove 262 Fifth Avenue, the Russian-owned skyscraper that blocks the Empire State Building’s south view. The movie gestures toward real-world issues but ultimately sells the fantasy, leaving viewers to wonder whether it critiques or endorses ostentatious luxury.

Performances and Cameos: Star Power Meets Familiarity

Meryl Streep delivers Miranda with supreme poise and acid tongue, though her second go-round unfolds as a series of micro-indignities. Anne Hathaway shoulders Andy’s mix of steeliness and flightiness with consummate grace, while Emily Blunt steals scenes as the ice queen of aspirational couture. Stanley Tucci returns as Nigel, never butchering a bon mot, and Kenneth Branagh appears bizarrely as a lead violinist in a string quartet. The film is stuffed with wall-to-wall cameos, including Lady Gaga, Donatella Versace, and a cloud of New York media elites—a sign of desperation managed well enough. Notably absent is Anna Wintour, the Vogue editor on whom Miranda is modeled, the white whale of cameos.

Outlook: A Glossy Fairy Tale for a Doom-Laden Era

The Devil Wears Prada 2 sells a truckload of preposterous goods but sells them awfully well, with unfeigned assurance and the appropriate ratio of cynicism to hope. As industries and their titans are brought low, the film suggests that the best we can ask for is the satisfaction of doing good work and the lasting friendships forged along the way. For the huge fanbase who just want glamour and romance, this sequel will be just what they ordered. For detractors, the shallowness, toothless satire, and anemic storyline remain, but the film’s good-natured buoyancy and nostalgic charm may prove irresistible.

The bottom line

• The sequel reunites the original cast and creative team, recycling plot beats with heightened stakes and a more self-aware satire.
• Miranda Priestly is humbled by HR complaints, coach travel, and a rare editorial lapse, while Andy Sachs returns as a seasoned journalist fighting to save a crumbling media empire.
• The film critiques the death of journalism, tech oligarchy, and luxury real estate, but often undercuts its own critique with fantasy and nostalgia.
• Key cameos include Lady Gaga, Donatella Versace, and a host of New York media elites, but Anna Wintour remains absent.
• The movie’s ambiguous stance on conspicuous wealth and its digital scrubbing of the Manhattan skyline reflect a tension between critique and endorsement.
• Despite its flaws, the sequel offers buoyant entertainment and a satisfying reunion for fans of the original.