In an ideal world, legacy sequels happen because filmmakers have a new story to tell, not because a studio sees a recognizable IP and simply wants to cash in on nostalgia. At their best, these films bring back beloved characters with a fresh take that makes the onscreen reunion feel earned. To be fair, sometimes that happens: Top Gun: Maverick and Beetlejuice Beetlejuice are recent examples of successful legacy sequels that found smart new ways into their respective familiar worlds and gave us a reason to care. Sadly, The Devil Wears Prada 2 lands amongst a much larger pile of sequels that confuse recognition for inspiration. With most of the key talent returning, both in front of and behind the camera, the movie rarely feels fueled by real creativity. It has all the right pieces but very little of the spark that made the original movie entertaining. Which makes the letdown sting even more, because The Devil Wears Prada was more than just a popular hit; it became a cultural touchstone. Audiences have carried that movie with them for almost twenty years. So, when this sequel was announced, the appeal wasn’t just about having the chance to see Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) and Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) again. It was about seeing them in a story sharp enough, funny enough, and alive enough to justify their return.

Unfortunately, that story never really arrives.

The movie shows its hand almost immediately. Opening with a riff on the first movie’s opening montage, The Devil Wears Prada 2 too often feels less like a true follow-up than a glossier reenactment. There are familiar images, repeated character beats, and callbacks that seem intent on making us remember the first movie versus showing us anything new. Which is too bad, because the setup has real potential. In the twenty years since the original, fashion media and print journalism have changed quite a bit. Glossy magazines no longer command the same cultural authority they once did. Which raises a strong question: who is Miranda Priestly if Runway is no longer the center of the fashion world? That is a rich idea for a sequel, and for a little while, the movie seems like it might explore it.

As for Andy, she has spent the years since the first movie doing exactly what its ending suggested she would: building a serious career outside the world of fashion. The sequel, though, quickly pulls her back into Miranda’s world after she’s laid off from her job as a reporter at a vaunted publication, just as Runway is facing a storm of bad press over claims that one of the brands it supported has been found guilty of using sweatshop labor. To fix its image, the magazine’s publisher brings Andy in as the new features editor. It’s the kind of setup that could have produced more comic fiction and real thematic tension.

Instead, the screenplay seems far more interested in repeating safer, older rhythms than digging into its fresher ideas. Part of what made the original movie so good was that it wasn’t just funny; it also offered keen observations on ambition, identity, and the compromises people make to get ahead. This sequel also touches on other big ideas: the collapse of print media, the way billionaires strip institutions under the guise of saving them, and the struggle of older brands trying to remain relevant. But it never takes the time to fully explore any of them. Just when the movie seems like it’s going to say something, it backs away and returns to safer territory.

What really hurts the movie is how quickly it avoids its own conflicts. Hardships, career crises, and other moments that feel like potential crossroads for Andy or Miranda are quickly brushed aside through glossy montages and narrative shortcuts. Problems arise, a pop song kicks in, celebrity cameos abound, and the tension is gone before it has any real time to build. All of which gives the film a light, almost empty feeling. That weightlessness is most damaging to Miranda herself. In the original, Streep made restraint feel like a weapon; a pause or a glance could take the air out of a room. Here, though, Miranda feels oddly defanged. Streep still knows how to land a cutting look or glance, but the character no longer has the same impact or power.

Hathaway fares a little better, though the script doesn’t do Andy any real favors. The strangest choice is shoehorning in a romantic subplot with a love interest who is as bland as bland gets. It adds almost nothing to Andy’s story or the character’s arc, and to make matters worse, Hathaway and Patrick Brammall have so little chemistry that their scenes feel less swoon-worthy and more like extra material meant to pad out the film’s running time. Emily Blunt still gets laughs as Emily Charlton, but she too seems slightly muted compared with her star-making first outing. The one clear bright spot is Stanley Tucci. As Nigel, he remains these films’ secret weapon: perfect comic timing, effortlessly charming, supplying a warmth that never becomes sentimental. Whenever Tucci’s onscreen, the movie briefly remembers how to be fun.

The Devil Wears Prada 2 isn’t awful, but it is incredibly frustrating because you can easily see hints of a better movie throughout that never manages to come together. That said, the main cast is still incredibly appealing, the clothes still look great, and the whole thing has the glossy finish of a big studio movie. But style can only carry a movie so far. Unfortunately, the sharpness and emotional edge that helped make the first movie resonate are in short supply here, which makes the entire movie feel even more disappointing. For a movie so obsessed with style, its greatest flaw is how unremarkable it ultimately turns out to be.

The Devil Wears Prada 2 is currently playing in wide release.

REVIEW: “The Devil Wears Prada 2”

REVIEW: “Hokum”