Movie Review Black Los Angeles

BlackNLA Movie Reviews

*****THE REEL DEAL: Reviewz from the Street*****

by Edwardo Jackson

BIASES: late 20s black male; frustrated screenwriter who favors action, comedy, and glossy, big budget movies over indie flicks, kiddie flicks, and weepy Merchant Ivory fare

THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA (PG-13)

MOVIE BIASES: Didn't read the book but the clothes must be, like, so
to die for!

MAJOR PLAYERS: Meryl Streep (A Prairie Home Companion), Anne Hathaway
(Brokeback Mountain), Stanley Tucci (The Terminal), adapted from a novel by Lauren Weisberger, and director David Frankel (TV's "Entourage")

Slightly frumpy, size six aspiring journalist Andy Sachs (Hathaway) reluctantly applies for a job as second assistant to the editor-in-chief of a high fashion magazine called Runway, with nary a clue about its editor. Nearly hustled out in her pre-interview with icy, snippy, bitchy British first assistant Emily (Emily Blunt), Andy gets her first taste of Runway's legendary editrix, the sotto voce tyrant Miranda Priestley (Streep). Despite having "no sense of style or fashion," Andy gets the job, setting off an endless string of commands and crapwork that tests her mettle. Thanks to the help of sarcastic yet smugly obliging co-worker Nigel (Tucci), Andy, out of pure survival, dives into this glossy, glamorous world with a Jenny
Jones-worthy makeover that has her live-in boyfriend Nate (Adrian Grenier) worried and cheesy freelance writer Christian (Simon Baker) attracted. Will Andy be able to navigate the age-old working girl conundrum of balancing her personal and her professional while enduring one hellacious year that would be able to write her own
ticket to any magazine job in the country?

Let's get this out of the way: the clothes are divine. I mean, the shoe game in this flick is serious. Not that I care that much about fashion (I don't) or that I know that much about fashion (I don't), but the wardrobe designer, Patricia Field (TV's "Sex and the City") will probably get nominated for an Oscar.

Okay, now onto things which matter. From a plucky, decent but threadbare plotted script by Aline Brosh McKenna (Laws of Attraction), Frankel effectively tosses us into the world of high-end fashion through the eyes of Andy, simultaneously mocking its exclusivity but demonstrating its broad impact on the world. The script's depiction of backstabbing office politics is spot on; having been an assistant in
several fields including entertainment, I recognize assistant's purgatory when I see it. Although Miranda's demands/antics reach a level of self-parodying insanity, Frankel never quite takes the plunge into farce - to his and the movie's benefit. Blunt, Tucci, and Baker make themselves at home with thinly drawn supporting roles (except for poor Baker: His Vegas lounge lizard of a freelancer fires off pick-up
lines so tired, it's a miracle they made it out of his mouth. Baker looks embarrassed to be playing him - and should be). In spite of a character written so one-dimensional she ought to be an NBA shooting guard, Emily Blunt and her playground slide of red hair is at least entertaining in her uber-bitchiness. Once again, Adrian Grenier, as Andy's supportive, no-fuss boyfriend, is outshined by his peers, a la "Entourage." But in "Prada," that's the point.

Anne Hathaway continues to impress, cleaning up from a carbs-eating, brown shag-haired fashion emergency into a well-dressed, well-coiffed, "Glamazon." Proving she's got acting chops to not get blown out of frame with the venerable Streep (more on her in a minute), Hathaway instills Andy with a sweet, hardened ambition, fighting back against the Cruella de Vil of bosses by killing her with kindness. Whether she's toughing it out during another Miranda blame barrage or ignoring
the snide office remarks about her (gasp!) "fat" size six frame, Anne Hathaway imbues Andy with more heart than Weisberger's whiny, flat character deserves.

But as every review will tell you - and this one is no different - Meryl Streep IS the "Devil" - in the best possible way. Never raising her voice above a whisper, Streep's Miranda Priestley is a nightmare of outsized expectations, who dismisses inferiors (well, just about everyone) with a lightly acidic "That's all." Streep, silvery white
mane and all, terrorizes and electrifies with a withering glare that sends grown men and women scurrying like cockroaches when the light comes on ("She's not happy unless everyone around her is suicidal," complains Andy). But this effortless, brilliant performance by Streep, which may even warrant a hard Oscar look for an otherwise recyclable light comedy, includes a humanizing touch of naked emotional gravitas that, I'm told, Weisberger's one-sided, pulp bitch-a-thon lacks.

"You sold your soul the first day you put on that pair of Jimmy Choos." Is Emily right - do clothes make the (wo)man, or vice versa? No matter where you stand on this issue, accessorize your holiday week with "Prada."

@@@ REELS
(THREE REELS)
It's pretty hot – go give it a shot.

Like what you read? Agree/disagree with The Reel Deal? Think he's talkin' out his...HUSH YO' MOUF! (I'm only talkin' about The Reel Deal!) Email him at ReelReviewz@aol.com!

Edwardo Jackson is the author of the novels EVER AFTER and NEVA HAFTA, (Villard/Random House), a writer for UrbanFilmPremiere.com, and an LA-based screenwriter. Visit his website at www.edwardojackson.com




			BlackNLA Movie Reviews ***THE REEL DEAL: Reviewz from the Street*** by Edwardo Jackson BIASES: late 20s black male; frustrated screenwriter who favors action, comedy, and glossy, big budget movies over indie flicks, kiddie flicks, and weepy Merchant Ivory fare THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA (PG-13) MOVIE BIASES: Didn't read the book but the clothes must be, like, so to die for! MAJOR PLAYERS: Meryl Streep (A Prairie Home Companion), Anne Hathaway (Brokeback Mountain), Stanley Tucci (The Terminal), adapted from a novel by Lauren Weisberger, and director David Frankel (TV's "Entourage") Slightly frumpy, size six aspiring journalist Andy Sachs (Hathaway) reluctantly applies for a job as second assistant to the editor-in-chief of a high fashion magazine called Runway, with nary a clue about its editor. Nearly hustled out in her pre-interview with icy, snippy, bitchy British first assistant Emily (Emily Blunt), Andy gets her first taste of Runway's legendary editrix, the sotto voce tyrant Miranda Priestley (Streep). Despite having "no sense of style or fashion," Andy gets the job, setting off an endless string of commands and crapwork that tests her mettle. Thanks to the help of sarcastic yet smugly obliging co-worker Nigel (Tucci), Andy, out of pure survival, dives into this glossy, glamorous world with a Jenny Jones-worthy makeover that has her live-in boyfriend Nate (Adrian Grenier) worried and cheesy freelance writer Christian (Simon Baker) attracted. Will Andy be able to navigate the age-old working girl conundrum of balancing her personal and her professional while enduring one hellacious year that would be able to write her own ticket to any magazine job in the country? Let's get this out of the way: the clothes are divine. I mean, the shoe game in this flick is serious. Not that I care that much about fashion (I don't) or that I know that much about fashion (I don't), but the wardrobe designer, Patricia Field (TV's "Sex and the City") will probably get nominated for an Oscar. Okay, now onto things which matter. From a plucky, decent but threadbare plotted script by Aline Brosh McKenna (Laws of Attraction), Frankel effectively tosses us into the world of high-end fashion through the eyes of Andy, simultaneously mocking its exclusivity but demonstrating its broad impact on the world. The script's depiction of backstabbing office politics is spot on; having been an assistant in several fields including entertainment, I recognize assistant's purgatory when I see it. Although Miranda's demands/antics reach a level of self-parodying insanity, Frankel never quite takes the plunge into farce - to his and the movie's benefit. Blunt, Tucci, and Baker make themselves at home with thinly drawn supporting roles (except for poor Baker: His Vegas lounge lizard of a freelancer fires off pick-up lines so tired, it's a miracle they made it out of his mouth. Baker looks embarrassed to be playing him - and should be). In spite of a character written so one-dimensional she ought to be an NBA shooting guard, Emily Blunt and her playground slide of red hair is at least entertaining in her uber-bitchiness. Once again, Adrian Grenier, as Andy's supportive, no-fuss boyfriend, is outshined by his peers, a la "Entourage." But in "Prada," that's the point. Anne Hathaway continues to impress, cleaning up from a carbs-eating, brown shag-haired fashion emergency into a well-dressed, well-coiffed, "Glamazon." Proving she's got acting chops to not get blown out of frame with the venerable Streep (more on her in a minute), Hathaway instills Andy with a sweet, hardened ambition, fighting back against the Cruella de Vil of bosses by killing her with kindness. Whether she's toughing it out during another Miranda blame barrage or ignoring the snide office remarks about her (gasp!) "fat" size six frame, Anne Hathaway imbues Andy with more heart than Weisberger's whiny, flat character deserves. But as every review will tell you - and this one is no different - Meryl Streep IS the "Devil" - in the best possible way. Never raising her voice above a whisper, Streep's Miranda Priestley is a nightmare of outsized expectations, who dismisses inferiors (well, just about everyone) with a lightly acidic "That's all." Streep, silvery white mane and all, terrorizes and electrifies with a withering glare that sends grown men and women scurrying like cockroaches when the light comes on ("She's not happy unless everyone around her is suicidal," complains Andy). But this effortless, brilliant performance by Streep, which may even warrant a hard Oscar look for an otherwise recyclable light comedy, includes a humanizing touch of naked emotional gravitas that, I'm told, Weisberger's one-sided, pulp bitch-a-thon lacks. "You sold your soul the first day you put on that pair of Jimmy Choos." Is Emily right - do clothes make the (wo)man, or vice versa? No matter where you stand on this issue, accessorize your holiday week with "Prada." @@@ REELS (THREE REELS) It's pretty hot – go give it a shot. Like what you read? Agree/disagree with The Reel Deal? Think he's talkin' out his...HUSH YO' MOUF! (I'm only talkin' about The Reel Deal!) Email him at ReelReviewz@aol.com! Edwardo Jackson is the author of the novels EVER AFTER and NEVA HAFTA, (Villard/Random House), a writer for UrbanFilmPremiere.com, and an LA-based screenwriter. Visit his website at www.edwardojackson.com © 2004, Edwardo Jackson