77 - The Devil Wears Prada review

Working for top fashion mag editor Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) would certainly be daunting for anyone. She’s the type of boss who demands her assistant obtain an unpublished Harry Potter manuscript within four hours, along with her usual Starbucks. She never screams, but the way she icily demeans those who draw her ire are much worse. Miranda goes through so many assistants, that she calls the new assistant by the name of the last one.

Make no mistake, The Devil Wears Prada is a chick flick. The story of Andy(Anne Hathaway), a naïve small town girl who works for the tyrannical Miranda, doesn’t have a macho second throughout its running time. Lavish fashion, loving shots of the Big Apple, a gentle boyfriend who functions simply to remind Andy of the important things, and a feel good message that reminds us that career isn’t everything.

But to my surprise, the film contained some pointed satire, and had another, unexpected moral. Though the feel-good aspect takes center stage, The Devil Wears Prada ultimately sympathizes with Miranda and her cruel method of business, arguing that the much glamorized world of fashion can be relentlessly difficult to thrive in, but if you can’t take the heat, you shouldn’t be in the kitchen.

At first, Miranda’s jarring habit of not rewarding success and viciously punishing failure drives Andy to the brink of quitting, but as Miranda’s second-in-command Nigel (Stanely Tucci, easily scoring 75% of the laughs) points out, what did she expect? A gold star on the homework and a kiss on the forehead? Andy’s job, as painful as it may be, makes her the envy of thousands (if not millions) of women who want an entryway into the fashion world, so if Miranda has burnt her out this quickly, should she really be here?

The colossal amount of energy and money spent on designer labels likely seems ridiculous to anyone not enamored with the industry, but the film manages to make those spent resources seem not only necessary, but reasonable. The clothes most of us wear had to be designed, manufactured, and sold to us, constituting the livelihood of millions. What we wear can speak volumes about who we are, whether we realize it, so should the industry be written off simply as merely shallow or hedonistic?

As Andy goes deeper into the plane of existence her co-workers inhabit, those close to her furrow their brows and express concern, particularly her boyfriend Nate (Adrian Grenier, the very definition of hedonism on Entourage). These stale scenes are unfortunately overlong, hammering the point home ad nauseam. We understand that her social life is in serious peril if she remains on 24-hour call for Miranda, but does everyone she know have to lay on nagging guilt trips? How about a supportive friend who appreciates the $1900 purses Anne can suddenly distribute for free?

The Devil Wears Prada may succumb to the urge to pander to the girlish cravings of the target audience, but it does so well, and definitely better than most films of its type. I never doubted that Andy would eventually see the light, but I was surprised at how Miranda turned out to be the devil not because she works her employees hard, but because she turns them into younger versions of herself. If a date movie can make you chuckle and give the audience something to think about, even if for a few minutes, it has done more than required of it.

3 out of 5

76 - Kiss Kiss Bang Bang review

The title of Kiss Kiss Bang Bang comes from Pauline Kael’s declaration that those four words are the briefest description of the appeal of the movies as possible. Taking that into account you might imagine Shane Black’s directorial debut to be a Hollywood satire, but instead it serves as a sly joke to the enlightened audience member, one of many breaches of the fourth wall.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is a gruesome, often hilarious action flick, the kind Black used to specialize in writing but now has moved on to directing. While none of his prior films were particularly serious at any time, but here Black cuts loose more with side-splitting dialogue and references to the mechanics of film than he does gun fights and girls, though it has those, too.

Robert Downey Jr. stars as Harry Lockhart, a petty thief that amusingly stumbles into Hollywood in a manner that Black might feel resembles his own rise, at least in spirit. Harry teams up with Gay Perry (Val Kilmer), a tough and matter-of-factly gay detective, to study detective work for a role.

Harry and Perry stumble upon a dead body that ends up involving Harmony (Michelle Monaghan), Harry’s high school dream girl, and the funniest corpse joke I’ve ever seen. When Harmony has a supposedly unrelated death on her hands, Harry eagerly pretends to be a real detective in order to cozy up to the one that got away. From there, the story takes on the form of a twisted mystery-noir.

Without a top-notch performance in each role, the film likely couldn’t succeed. Noirs rely not on their ridiculous plots, but on the characters trapped inside of them. Robert Downey Jr. was the right choice for Harry, a man so used to things going wrong that the loss of a finger doesn’t so much upset him as it does inconvenience him. Where many actors would be tempted to ham up Gay Perry, Kilmer plays it mostly straight, pun not intended, providing a much needed noir know-how. Monaghan has the sort of cute to her that nearly becomes overwhelming, but doesn’t leave us wondering why Harry would go through so much for her.

Watch as Harmony mistakenly thinks Harry was groping her and writes it off as no big deal; like all noir heroes, Harry’s sensibilities are deeply chivalric, whether or not he realizes it. To him, a woman’s appeal increases along with the revelation of her screwy demons, something that strangely affects more men than most would think. It’s the one part of the story that may not be tongue in cheek, but also one of the highlights.

Harry’s almost playful narration leads us through the seriously convoluted plot. He often stops the frame mid-cycle in order to mock film convention, which while not reaching the post-modern brilliance of Adaptation, provides some seriously funny moments. During one scene, a previously dead hero enters the room in a wheelchair, followed by every other character killed thus far, as Harry bemoans the tendency of important but dead characters to walk back into frame at the screenplay’s convenience. Black knows what cliches are necessary to put a film like this together, and instead of playing dumb, he wisely embraces and acknowledges them.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang’s detractors have said that the film is self-congratulatory, always too happy with itself. They may have a point, but I disagree; Black displays a winning combination of confidence and smarts, blended together to make a deliriously entertaining movie. Black knew he wasn’t making high art, but he did make a damn good movie, which is the only thing that really matters. Everything comes with a wink and a smile, like the guy at the party who reminds the guests to stop taking things too seriously, because it’s all about having fun. In this case, he’d be right.

4 out of 5