Missing the open net, part 1

[...being the first installment in the continuing series of blog postings around the theme of "how on earth did they manage to screw that up?"]

Me and my wife recently watched David Frankel's movie version of The Devil Wears Prada. She had read the novel, I hadn't. As the end titles began to roll we concluded that we were somewhat entertained but not too excited.

Why did I want to watch a fashion world comedy in the first place, being a person who could not care less of trend bags and who believed for years Manolo Blahnik was probably some freakish secondary character in a Cronenberg movie? Two reasons: 1. New York comedies (should) equal witty dialogue, lifestyle satire and other nice things like that. 2. Meryl Streep. With these two barrels, this cinematic shotgun should have given a decent blast. But no, not quite.

Reason #2 worked out very well, thank you again, Ms. Streep. But Reason #1 simply vaporized in no time at all. I guess it's unavoidable when a movie slaps a socio-cultural-economic phenomenon in the face with one hand while catering to the whims and demands of the same phenomenon on the other. The hopeless schizophrenia with which the movie treats the fashion world steers the story and its themes into a brick wall. The dialogue and the characters fall mostly flat because the film doesn't have guts to take a stand in any direction.

Having said that, the acting of Streep and, even more remarkably, Stanley Tucci, gives you at least some of your money's worth. I admired Tucci's extremely skillful balancing act, navigating between broad stereotype, pathos and realism. It's a performance worthy of a much better picture, and one that injected a dose of real life into what was otherwise off-the-shelf formula.