The Devil Wears Prada 2 and the Importance of Complaining

“Who asked for a sequel to The Devil Wears Prada?” Probably the young Gen-X and elder millenial women who have propelled the original to the position of 68th most popular film of all-time on Letterboxd (the 10th most popular of the ‘00s, and the most-watched of 2006). With the success of legacyquels such as The Force Awakens and Top Gun: Maverick, along with the triumphs of female-geared IP like Barbie and Wicked, it was only a matter of time before audiences got to return to the offices of Runway Magazine.

The original Devil Wears Prada was a fun, frothy piece of escapism and a time capsule of 2006 fashion, music, and cultural norms (it may be the most pro-eating disorder movie ever made). The Devil Wears Prada 2 makes an admirable attempt to do the same for 2026, but in doing so, exposes how much the world and filmmaking have devolved over the past two decades.

Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) is now an award-winning investigative reporter, but— as is common in today’s media landscape— she and her entire team have just been laid off. Luckily, Andy quickly picks up a new gig as features editor at her old stomping grounds of Runway when her former boss and editor-in-chief Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) comes under fire for promoting a brand that uses sweatshop labor. Runway is a shell of its old self, surviving on clickbait and cheap video content, and now Andy and Miranda must implore advertisers— including Emily (Emily Blunt), Miranda’s former assistant, now working for Dior— to not sever their ties.

Rounding out the returning cast is Stanley Tucci as Nigel, Runway’s fashion director, who serves to offer pithy one-liners and emotional support to Miranda as she navigates the billionaire class for a potential promotion or sale of the magazine, as well as Andy, who strikes up a new relationship with an Australian contractor (Patrick Brammall) and contemplates a book deal for an exposé on Miranda.

If The Devil Wears Prada 2 wished to maintain the escapist feel of the original, it could have just pretended that the print industry is healthy and fine, and I’m glad it doesn’t do that. It actually tries to reckon with the ways media, fashion, and office power dynamics have changed (there are a couple solid digs at H.R. culture and the body positivity movement), and it lends Andy and Miranda new layers of depth. Hathaway and Streep both get to explore world-worn sides to their characters, and their growth feels earned and real. Tucci too gets to adds a touch of graceful melancholy to the proceedings.

But to faithfully depict the media industry in 2026 is to remind the audience of just how awful things are now. Billionaires (depicted as indifferent and stupid by B.J. Novak and Justin Theroux, respectively, instead of realistically evil/pedophilic) influence coverage to their own ends and wipe out swaths of jobs on whims. Nobody wants to read magazines anymore, let alone books. There’s one chilling scene where Andy scrolls through Instagram, and it plays like an ad for Disney’s now-cancelled partnership with OpenAI.

Our inescapable modern nightmare continues through the parades of cameos by models, designers, and Jon Batiste, for some reason. Cameos are par for the course in any studio movie today, because executives and marketing teams are desperate for celebrity and influencer engagement. But there’s something that feels especially sinister about TDWP2’s cameos, because they largely play out at extravagant party scenes set in the Hamptons and Milan’s Fashion Week. The opulent wealth and gaudy outfits on display took me out of the movie and into the Capitol of the Hunger Games.

All this would be easier to swallow if the movie at least looked good. The original is a masterclass in rom-com lighting and film photography. Watching it feels like a warm bath. TDWP2, unfortunately, was filmed digitally and follows the maddening trend of never, ever, not ever lighting the actors’ faces. The movie apparently shot on location in Manhattan and Italy, but you’d never know, because the flat, washed out cinematography looks so fake and bland.

Nevertheless, there’s still some pleasure to be had from seeing Hathaway, Streep, Tucci, and even Blunt (who I run hot or cold on) together on the big screen. Movie stars, man!

New cast members are pretty unremarkable. It’s hard to take Brammall very seriously as a romantic lead after all the Australian children’s media (Bluey, The Wiggles, H2O: Just Add Water) that I’ve been consuming. Comedian Caleb Hearon plays a new Runway assistant, but they don’t let him be funny. Kenneth Branagh plays Miranda’s new husband, styled suspiciously like disgraced O.U.R. founder Tim Ballard.

If you liked the original Devil Wears Prada, you’ll probably have a nice enough time at the sequel, but I doubt it will give you the same lasting warm-and-fuzzies that the original does. At least TDWP2 kind of knows it’s a bummer, and it tries to smooth things over with some pat assurances that media is evolving but its importance remains. I’d feel a lot better about that message if I was writing this review for a job, not a hobby, but alas.

I spent the bulk of the last week hemming & hawing over what to write about for the second issue of Pan & Scan, because I’m still figuring out the tone and format of the newsletter, and I don’t want to drive away any potential readers too soon. Do I write a piece on some movie trend to solidify this as a film-based blog? Should I cover a non-movie-related bit of pop culture to show some well-roundedness? Can I jump head-first into politics to show you I can talk about serious matters? Did I bite off more than I can chew promising regular articles as well as movie reviews? (yes)

I started Pan & Scan because I want to be able to talk about anything and everything that’s on my mind, and my hope is that you as the reader will be able to find some solidarity or solace knowing that someone else feels the same way about stuff. Or perhaps you’ll learn something new or consider a topic from an angle you hadn’t thought of before. I want to make recommendations and dole out advice, based on what I enjoy and life lessons I’ve learned, but I also want to be able to rant and rail against things that piss me off.

Unfortunately, a lot of stuff these days pisses me off. And I want to write about it!

But I can already hear the voices of friends and family members, both conservative and liberal, saying, “What good does complaining do? You’re just adding to the world’s negativity. Let people enjoy things.”

I’m here to tell you that the world needs complainers, now more than ever!

When we tell people to stop complaining, we open the door for exploitation, corruption, and abuse. When we tell people to accept things as they are, we block progress and uphold systems of bigotry and oppression. When we tell people that better things aren’t possible, we push them into feelings of alienation, detachment, and radicalism.

Obviously, complaining doesn’t inherently fix things, and any comfort we get from complaining isn’t lasting. It takes action to turn complaining into anything productive. But some people try to quell complaining in order to prevent action. “Nothing’s wrong, stop talking about it.”

Others say, “Stop complaining, and do something about it,” which feels like sound advice because, yes, you should do something actionable with your grievances, but it’s the complaining out loud that will awake potential allies and comrades to their material conditions and spurn them to action. Hence, why there’s always an anti-complaining contingent who are really trying to nip action in the bud.

Also, it bears saying that when people say stuff like, “Well, what are you going to do about it?” they probably already know there’s nothing you can do, and they’re rubbing it in your face.

The truth is that complaining is good, because it promotes free speech and public debate, helps hold public and organizational leaders accountable, and it stirs positive change. Think about it. Without the complainers of the world, women and minorities wouldn’t be allowed to vote. Workers would have no weekend. Cars wouldn’t have seatbelts, and public spaces would still be full of cigarette smoke.

Right now, there are people in power who want to undo all this progress. People who would sell out your rights in a heartbeat if it meant a bit of profit for them. People who benefit from silencing dissent in order to thwart any potential rebellion.

These are the people who want you to shut up and quit complaining. So I’m not going to!

“Sam, won’t all the negativity damage your mental health, emotional wellbeing, and your very soul?”

Okay, well, first of all, late capitalism, fascism, techno-feudalism, or whatever you want to call our current state of affairs is already damaging your and my mental health/emotional wellbeing. Lack of housing and healthcare, along with being fed a never-ending slew of ads and propaganda is bringing us all down, consciously or unconsciously.

Second, there is a counterbalance to complaining that will keep your soul intact: sincerity. Sincerity is one of the most important virtues a person can hold. The dictionary calls it “the quality of being free from pretense, deceit, or hypocrisy.” I call it having a conscience. It’s having principles, morals, and ethics. It’s keeping an open mind and heart to new ideas and to change.

Sincerity is believing in a common, collective good. To move through life sincerely is to root for mankind and the earth we share. It’s believing in equality and striving for equity. Sincerity is recognizing and promoting great art. It’s defining your life by love, rather than hate.

I don’t complain out of any hate, bigotry, or entitlement. I complain because I value all human life, and I know we could have it so, so, so much better than we currently do. Better things are possible. Nothing is set in stone, no matter how hard they try to convince you otherwise.

So when I use this space to complain about movies, culture, politics, religion, or any other topic, please know that I don’t do it to spread negativity, misery, or animosity. I do it to spread hope that the world can be a better place.

And I hope to counterbalance my complaints with sincerity: I’ll talk about movies I love, music I want to share, things I’m excited about. I’ll talk about marriage and parenthood, which are the greatest, sincerest loves and sources of joy I’ve ever felt.

So with all that in mind, I hope you can enjoy Pan & Scan, even if you don’t always agree with me, and that you can know my intentions are rooted in hope and sincerity. Call me a hater all you want, but know that I’m a lover where it counts.

Don’t take that the wrong way.

Happy Star Wars Day! I just learned the first recorded usage of “May the 4th be with you” was in an ad the Conservative party took out to congratulate Margaret Thatcher on her election to Prime Minister. Gross!

Kacey Musgraves dropped her new album, Middle of Nowhere, on Friday. I’ve never been a country guy, but not all country artists are funny, sexy stoners like Kacey.

One of my low-key favorite bands, Young the Giant, also released a new album Friday. I say “low-key” because they’re the type of band I forget I like so much until I’m listening to their stuff, and then I’m like, “Oh yeah, these guys are great.” Sadly, their new record, Victory Garden, sounds like the kind of bland, adult contemporary music you might hear in a dentist’s office. Maybe it’ll grow on me, but it’s no Home of the Strange.

I’m also into making homemade pretzels now, thanks to this recipe from the New York Times. It’s just store-bought pizza dough, boiled with some baking soda and molasses, then baked. My 2-year-old is begging me to make more!

We got Mortal Kombat II, Billie Eilish: Hit Me Hard & Soft 3-D, The Sheep Detectives coming out this week. I’ll be reviewing at least one of them!

Also, I’ll stop writing about what I’m going to write, I promise!