The Devil Wears Prada

I don't usually do movie reviews. And I the handful of times I have mentioned a movie it was because I liked it. Not this time.

Now, I don't get out much. And I really don't go to many movies at the movie theater. Ellie May doesn't let me -- but that's another story altogether. So forgive me when I mention a movie that's 3 years old. That's what happens when you only watch Netflix and your queue gets up around 200 flicks. But something about this movie really bothered me -- probably partly because it was well liked by critics and even nominated/received many awards.

The movie is predictable, but this might be a spoiler if you haven't seen it. You have been warned.

The premise of the movie is that being smart and working hard really isn't enough for a chick to succeed in a cut throat business world. In order for the fat girl^[1] to succeed she not only needs to conform, but it's also very important to dress like one of Elliot Spitzer's $2000/hour call girls. Sure, as a red blooded stereotypical male, those outfits (with $100 unmentionables underneath) are appealing... for about one night -- then they can be stored away in the closet next to the catwoman outfit and the loincloth bikini. I'd also like to point out to all you gals that pay to dress like this every day that you're doing it to impress other women -- not to impress men. We wouldn't know a Jimmy Choo if you threw one at us. But, as I so often do, I'm weaving away from the point.

And of course, there is the subplot where you begin to disregard your homely boyfriend^[2] and go for the smooth, slick guy.

Oh, and there's the additional implication that in order to be a successful woman business magnate you have to be an insensitive overbearing bitch. I mean: I'm not all touchy feely and I know whoever is in charge has to be a dickhead every now and then. But I have never seen a CEO that showed utter contempt for his or her administrative assistant. In fact, most of them owe a big part of their success to their "lowly secretary."

Movies are fantasy. I get that. But if you're going to portray a fantasy, have the main chick walk in and tell off the head bitch and walk out -- and let the main bitch realize her mistake. Otherwise it's just ... not recommended.

Notes

1. By fat, I mean only 6 pounds underweight
2. And by homely boyfriend I mean Adrian Grenier who looks like he stepped off the cover of GQ magazine. They don't try to dress him down at all, either.