One part fantasy, one part incisive satire on the fashion industry, The Devil Wears Prada, on paper, may not be more than another formulaic entry where a young innocent gets caught up in the temptations of power and influence. I know little about the fashion industry other than what I can gleam from TV’s insanely watchable Project Runway and even I was charmed. Andrea (Anne Hathaway) is an idealistic journalism student paying the bills working as the assistant to Runway magazine’s ferocious editor in chief, Miranda (Meryl Streep). Andrea’s plain style of dress draws sneers and snickers from her rail-thin, nose-raising colleagues, and some smart snark from Miranda, who always seems to eviscerate people without raising the timber of her voice. The movie is typical with its rise-and-fall power structure, but even though it may be lightweight, The Devil Wears Prada is lots of fluffy fun, and all signs of life point to Streep. It’s almost a foregone conclusion that you’ll get a worthy Streep performance, but she’s totally unleashed in The Devil Wears Prada. Every time she sweeps into a scene she commands attention and steals the movie. We’re all just living in this woman’s world on borrowed time, and she knows it. Streep is in grand comedic form, dominating the movie with glares; just an inching of her facial expression can cause titters. It’s a juicy role and, mark my words, the most Oscar-nominated actress in history is going to get another nom for this performance. Hathaway proves to hold her own as well beyond those dark doe-eyes and cherry stem lips. The movie starts to drag in a third act trip to Paris, and Andrea’s empathy seems to get a bit out of tune (she feels worse about being better at her job than a co-worker than missing her boyfriend’s birthday). The Devil Wears Prada is an enjoyable, easily digestible piece of high-gloss fluff elevated by Streep’s dominating turn as a fashion lioness.

Nate’s Grade: B